#and ask for a more concrete estimate and update this if its more than that

[grantihare]

so mordred is sick and we're short on testing money

ive posted a few times about mordred being sick lately, and his xray wiped out most of our money for the next two weeks. if it is lung worms or a bad virus, im afraid of it getting worse and possibly doing permanent damage in the time before our next payday since hes already been dealing with it for so long. he and his sister are my everything, i couldnt stand it if anything happened to them that we could help.

so please, dont put yourself in a tough situation just to help us out, but if you have enough to remain comfortable after donating we would appreciate it so much. if youd like something in return my partner would draw anything youd like, their art blog is here , just send one of us a msg/ask and theyll get started on it as soon as theyre back from work

im in ko/fi jail rn and working on getting it back up, right now i only have pypl here

(including the extra gas to/from the vet, medical waste fee, and estimated tax)

81/231

#it will probably be a little higher than that if they throw in some equipment fee like last time but im going to call tomorrow #and ask for a more concrete estimate and update this if its more than that #last time she said the viral test is just a swab but maybe thats a lab fee?? stressful i wish theyd just put a chart on their site ugh #again pls dont donate if itll put you in a tough spot i dont want anyone to go without on our account #but thank you to anyone who helps even just with boosting #i love mordred more than anything and id take out a loan if i had to but were trying to get an apartment so the credit hit would screw us #so were trying to avoid that if at all possible #ty in advance again for boosting #will repay with cat pics if wanted

[streaminn]

Obligated commissions post, hello gang!

Here to commission me? well here are my prices and examples :) More examples of commissions can be seen in the tag #commission work !!

Busts: 15-25$ (sketches -> colored)

half body! 25-35$ (Sketches -> colored) *can be from hips to above

also if the lineart looks a lil different for the colored trans enid, its bc i didn't do that. I sketched it, a mutual lined it then I colored it!

Fullbody 35-45$ (sketches -> colored)

Note! Prices can change and vary depending on what is being commissioned! None of these are concrete

+10-15 usd per person

+5-10 usd depending on the background

There can be additional charges due to paypal fees

Can Draw!

Fanart

oc's/humanoids

pngtuber models

character sheets

horror, gore (not excessive)

Chibi

NSfW

Might Draw (We'll need to talk about these requests)

full on furries (not so experienced)

excessive gore/horror (same excuse as above)

comics

honestly, if it isn't in the Can Draw, let's talk about it.

Will not:

hate art

anything political

if it crosses my boundaries

Terms and Service! (this is a long one)

The client may ask for progress updates every 2-4 days, if not longer, should the commissionee not be in contact.

The art may take longer than the estimated time the artist gives. Should that be an issue or concern, the client must tell the artist.

In commissioning the artist, the client acknowledges that the artist is a student and that this is not the artist's full time job, and the client should not expect the artist to be able to treat it as such.

IMAGE RIGHTS

The client may not, in any way shape or form, use the art in a commission product for NFTs, no matter how much they offer to pay the artist. Should NFTs be made of the art without consent, the client gives full consent for the artist to take legal action against them.

The client may make minor edits to the completed commission (e.g. cropping, adding text/borders, changing brightness/contrast/hue/saturation...

The client may use/reupload the commission for personal/non-commercial use, but only if proper credit to the artist and a linkback to any of the artist's social media is provided.

If the commission includes characters that do not belong the client, additional credit to the owner(s)/creator(s) of said characters must be provided when using/reuploading for personal/non-commercial use.

The client may not use the commission for any commercial use unless discussed with the artist beforehand.

^ Should the client use the art for commercial use, provided the artist's consent, the artist will receive an agreed-upon percentage of the sales profits.

The client MUST credit the artist for any usage of the art on any platform.

The client MUST ask the artist if they want to use their art as a reference, and proceed to credit each time the reference is used. REVISION POLICIES Once the coloring stage begins, the only major revisions permitted are details that the artist may have missed and was specified by the client in the order while the commission was still in the sketching/lineart stage (e.g. a missing tattoo that's essential to the character's design).

If the client is unsatisfied with the commission, the artist is willing to discuss and make minor edits as stated prior (e.g. adjusting colors). However, the artist will not redraw the piece and expects full payment, as the client should have specified in the sketch stage changes they wanted to be made.

The client may not hire another artist to adjust the image without the commissionee's consent.

The artist is willing to edit the image post commission for the commissioner, but may charge a small fee depending on what is being asked of them. Upon commissioning the artist, the client automatically agrees to the terms of service provided, as it is assumed they have read them.

-

...and that's about it? Just don't expect me to be obligated to draw something. Depending on how much commissions i'm getting and how busy i am, the art will take atleast a few days to a week!

If you got references, provide them! It'll help alot. You can also ask for progress updates, just don't mind me accidentally not seeing the message bc this is tumblr and I don't get notifs for some reason.

as of rn, im accepting payment through ko-fi and paypal

But ye! That's about it, thanks for seeing this yall

#commissions open #commission work

[strange-alien11]

The Berlin Wall

The Berlin Wall was a guarded concretebarrier that encircled West Berlin of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG; West Germany) from 1961 to 1989, separating it from East Berlin and the German Democratic Republic (GDR; East Germany). Construction of the Berlin Wall was commenced by the government of the GDR on 13 August 1961. It included guard towers placed along large concrete walls, accompanied by a wide area (later known as the "death strip") that contained anti-vehicle trenches, beds of nails and other defenses. The primary intention for the Wall's construction was to prevent East German citizens from fleeing to the West.

Soon after the construction of the Berlin Wall in August 1961, a stand-off occurred between US and Soviet tanks on either side of Checkpoint Charlie. It began on 22 October as a dispute over whether East German border guards were authorized to examine the travel documents of a US diplomat based in West Berlin named Allan Lightner heading to East Berlin to watch an opera show there, since according to the agreement between all four Allied powers occupying Germany, there was to be free movement for Allied forces in Berlin and that no German military forces from either West Germany or East Germany were to be based in the city, and moreover the Western Allies did not (initially) recognise the East German state and its right to remain in its self-declared capital of East Berlin.

The Death of Peter Fechter

On 17 August 1962, a teenaged East German, Peter Fechter, was shot in the pelvis by East German guards while trying to escape from East Berlin. His body lay tangled in a barbed wire fence as he bled to death in full view of the world's media. He could not be rescued from West Berlin because he was a few metres inside the Soviet sector. East German border guards were reluctant to approach him for fear of provoking Western soldiers, one of whom had shot an East German border guard just days earlier. More than an hour later, Fechter's body was removed by the East German guards. A spontaneous demonstration formed on the American side of the checkpoint, protesting against the action of the East and the inaction of the West.

During the years of the Wall, around 5,000 people successfully defected to West Berlin. The number of people who died trying to cross the Wall, or as a result of the Wall's existence, has been disputed. The most vocal claims by Alexandra Hildebrandt, director of the Checkpoint Charlie Museum and widow of the museum's founder, estimated the death toll to be well above 200.

The East German government issued shooting orders (Schießbefehl) to border guards dealing with defectors, though such orders are not the same as "shoot to kill" orders. GDR officials denied issuing the latter.

In an October 1973 order later discovered by researchers, guards were instructed that people attempting to cross the Wall were criminals and needed to be shot

Do not hesitate to use your firearm, not even when the border is breached in the company of women and children, which is a tactic the traitors have often used

Fall

1989 Günter Schabowski, the party boss in East Berlin and the spokesman for the SED Politburo, had the task of announcing the new regulations. However, he had not been involved in the discussions about the new regulations and had not been fully updated Shortly before a press conference on 9 November, he was handed a note announcing the changes, but given no further instructions on how to handle the information. These regulations had only been completed a few hours earlier and were to take effect the following day, so as to allow time to inform the border guards. But this starting time delay was not communicated to Schabowski. At the end of the press conference, Schabowski read out loud the note he had been given. A reporter, ANSA's Riccardo Ehrman, asked when the regulations would take effect. After a few seconds' hesitation, Schabowski replied, "As far as I know, it takes effect immediately, without delay". After hearing the broadcast, East Germans began gathering at the Wall, at the six checkpoints between East and West Berlin, demanding that border guards immediately open the gates. The evening of 9 November 1989 is known as the night the Wall came down.

#berlin #berlin wall #the wall #pink floyd #murales #history #escape #cold war

[jay-avian]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you @rickie-the-storyteller for tagging me here!

This is another short story I wrote for my fiction class, but waited to post until after I edited it. I'd love to get any sort of feedback or suggestions if you have any!

I'm going to tag people above the cut just in case people don't want to read the long post just yet: @fleurtygurl @sleepyowlwrites @willtheweaver @theeccentricraven @lyra-brie and whoever else wants to share their amazing works!

Title: The Black Rose Project (genre: sci-fi horror) (content warning: kidnapping, experimentation [nothing is explicitly mentioned as far as what happens during the processes])

“The Latest in Bioengineering: Aether Lab Revives the Ecosystem”

“In the fast-paced, technology-oriented world we live in today, animal species have been dwindling at a much quicker pace than first estimated. Many species are unable to adapt, leading to their eventual extinction. And when certain species fade out, balance is shifted across the ecosystems. The lack of predators has led to a massive uptick in wild prey numbers…

“Dr. Adam O’Donnell and his team have worked for years to not only revive animal species but revitalize them. Known as the “New Eden Project”, the series of experiments works towards giving the species special genetic traits to navigate the changing world. When asked about the thought process behind the experiments, Dr. O’Donnell commented: “If animals are expected to thrive in this new age, they need to be able to stand their ground, to learn and adapt to new challenges and possible threats.” This revelation makes the future of the ecosystems look bright, but time will surely tell...”

It hadn’t been long before New Eden had taken off in popularity. There was talk everywhere about those “crazy sons o’ bitches” down at Aether. They had done the impossible. Well, I suppose the improbable now. But there hasn’t been news from them for a while now. People are starting to become doubtful. The papers have asked me to try and get some updates. The reporter previously taking on this story had passed away in a car crash about a week ago. Poor Nick could never seem to catch a break. I had only really talked with him in the office, but he was cute. He seemed really passionate about this story too. He would talk with me about the project and all his theories about what they were going to do next.

The project started with just modifying the embryos. Those turned out pretty much fine. The problem is something else. There’s been news and rumors about how they’ve started trying to speed up the process by essentially 3-D printing their monsters. Theoretically, it should work. Technically, it does. They use the same technology that duplicates cells, tissues, and whatnot, but on a much larger scale. After that, give the “corpse” a jumpstart and you’re good to go. But there’s more to it than that. No one can seem to predict how these beasts will act. Empty shells breathing but barely moving. Without any parents or previous experience to guide them, they’re like lost… Well, I hesitate to say souls. You can’t manufacture those. Their brains don’t function like they’re supposed to. Quite frankly, I’m scared to see how they’ll end up fixing this problem.

It’s a Sunday morning when I decide to go. There won’t be many people there, though I don’t think these scientists are exactly a religious bunch. I drive up to the lab and survey the parking lot. There are only five cars besides mine, not including the couple of trucks that belong to the lab itself. The lab isn’t that big overall, only being three stories tall. Its walls are mostly concrete with a few large windows into the first floor cafeteria and the top floors’ offices. I take Nick’s old notebook from the passenger seat and enter through the sliding glass doors into the reception area. The foyer’s floor is an ocean blue, speckled and bright. The desk I walk up to is painted a much lighter blue across the front. The blonde lady sitting at the desk is playing cards with herself.

“Excuse me?” I ask. She looks up at me. She doesn’t look nearly old or stuffy enough to be working here. Probably a student looking for an internship. “Hi, I was wondering if I could take a tour?”

“Sure,” she says. She moves over to her computer. “Could I get your name and who you’re with?”

“My name is Natalie Kostova, and this is just for a class paper. Springfield Tech under Professor Bartram.” My go-to excuse for people who aren’t as willing to talk. Scientists are usually hard to get info out of. Granted, they don’t want others to steal their data, their discoveries, their glory. But vague answers don’t make for an interesting story.

She types at her keyboard. “Okay!” She turns to me, smiling. “You can go ahead and have a seat in the cafeteria. I’ll have someone come up to walk you around.”

I look around and find the big open cafe. The furniture is very modern: plain colors, sleek and curving shapes. A couple of sofas and armchairs are lined near the walls and windows. There’s only one other person sitting at one of the tables eating a sub. I decide to get myself a soda from one of the vending machines before I sit down. While I wait, I flip through Nick’s notes as a refresher. Most of what’s written has been mentioned in the papers already. There’s also a few drawings of some of the experiments. I flip to the next page and there’s another drawing. It’s much more unsettling than the ones before. It’s a bigger dog-looking thing with a toned body. What if? is written and underlined on the next page, followed by bullet points. Super mutants. Guard dogs. War? Just because?

People next?

I hear footsteps in the distance. I slam the notebook shut and look up to find Dr. O’Donnell himself. “Good morning, Ms. Kostova,” he says as he walks up. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was in the middle of something that needed attention.”

I stand to meet him. “No worries. I understand how important it is to finish something you start. Can’t leave something half done.”

He laughs. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. Now, what’s this about a class paper?”

I straighten up and put on a smile. “Ah, I uh, just wanted to learn more about bioengineering and all of the possibilities.”

“Very well. Let’s get you familiar then, shall we?”

I follow him to the elevator. After we both enter, he presses the button for B1. Turns out, there are five floors in total: the three upper levels I saw, and two lower ones. The door closes and we start going down.

“Why the need for basement floors?” I ask.

“The bottom two floors are where we do most of our bigger projects. The upper floors are mainly offices and smaller labs.”

That seems fair enough, though I hope I’ll still be able to get a signal from down here.

The elevator doors open. Dr. O’Donnell starts walking ahead. We walk down a hall lined with doors and large windows. The first few rooms are filled with large machines. One of the bigger ones looks like a massive 3D-printer. One of the rooms has an MRI scanner and a heart monitor machine. He explains to me the basics of genetic modification. I take down what notes I can just in case. We head towards a set of glass doors that lead back outside. Out here are pathways that lead to enclosures set up almost like a zoo. We walk along and he showcases many of the animals kept here. Many of the predatory animals here seem to have bigger ears and paws, while some seem to be more “streamlined” in their looks. Dr. O’Donnell talks about their behavior and how finicky the animals can get at times.

“We sometimes bring in control groups,” he continues. “So we can get a gauge for the specimens’ mental progress as well as for further assimilation.” He pauses and looks at me. I try to write some more, thinking that’s what he’s expecting. “That’s a nice notebook you have. Where’d you get it?”

“Hm?” I look up. “I, uh, got it from a friend.”

“I see…” He starts fidgeting, rubbing his fingers together.

There’s no way he doesn’t know. “Yeah, it belonged to a classmate of mine. I forgot my bio notes at home and this is what I had in my car.” I should ask him something quick. “Oh, before I forget, I heard on the news that you guys were trying to make animals from scratch? How has that been working out?”

Dr. O’Donnell perks up. “Ah, well, we still haven’t quite gotten their behavior down yet. Instead, we’ve been trying to modify some of our control group specimens in their adult stages.”

“Oh really?” I ask, trying to look interested. “Do you think I could take a look? That sounds really cool!”

“I’m afraid I can’t quite show you that yet. It’s still in its early experimental stages and well, in all honesty, I don’t feel ready enough to showcase them…” He’s rubbing his hands together now, his eyes looking for his thoughts. “Oh, but you’re so eager. I’d hate for you to leave empty-handed. Why don’t I show you something else?”

Something feels off. I take a step back. I ought to wait to have someone else with me. But who knows when I’m going to get another decent chance to find my answers? Nick’s answers? “...Sure. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I follow him to the elevator. I walk a bit slower and check my phone; it only has one bar of service. “At Aether right now” I text my supervisor. “Might have something big. Send in cameras” Here’s hoping it sends.

We enter the elevator and he presses the button for B2. “What I am about to show you is another larger project I’ve been working on. I call it the Black Rose Project.”

“Is it similar to New Eden?” I ask.

“In a way, yes. The end goal is somewhat similar…” The doors open, but he doesn’t move. “But before I get into specifics, would you like to take a guess at what the black rose means?”

He stops to turn to me. I look at the doctor. He seems genuinely curious, like a teacher wanting to hear their students’ take on a matter. “Doesn’t… Black usually means death, right? Like you’re mourning for someone?”

“It can have that meaning, yes. But there’s also a second meaning to it.” Dr. O’Donnell walks forward into a large room with branching hallways. It reminds me of a hospital office. “You see, when something dies, it can give way to something new. Old leaves die so new ones may appear, old doors close so new ones may open… the old self dies so it may become like new.”

He swipes his card against a scanner. The door opens. He gestures towards the room. I peek my head in first, then ease my way in. There’s a person lying on a cot in the corner. I feel myself freeze up and my heart start beating faster. They’re wearing a hospital gown, or at least something similar.

“Go on,” O’Donnell says. “It’s harmless.”

“What did you do? Who is that?”

“I would imagine you would recognize that “classmate” of yours.”

“W-what?” I take a look at the body’s face. It looks somewhat familiar: the hair, the nose, the cheekbones– I rush over and grab his too-big shoulders. His body has an extremely toned build; it’s not what he used to look like. “Nick? Nick?!”

“Yes, he’s actually alive, despite what you heard of him last week. I made sure you reporters got a false story… As I’ve said before, building from scratch hasn’t exactly been working thus far. I was hoping I didn’t have to work like this, but at this point, discovery requires some sacrifices to be made.”

I hear the door close behind me. I whip around, rush towards the door, and start trying to force it open. “HEY! Let me out!” The voice is faint from the other side. I stop banging at the door and I still can’t make out what he’s saying. Behind me, there’s some soft shuffling.

“...Natalie?”

“Local Reporter “Missing””

“A few days ago, Natalie Kostova, one of our own reporters, went missing after attempting an interview at Aether Labs. She was last heard from by text message asking for cameramen. When they arrived on scene, they were dismissed immediately. Claims were made that Kostova had left minutes before, as evident by her car being absent in the parking lot. Investigations are currently underway, but so far, attempts to search the labs have been unfruitful…”

#creative writing #original writing #writers of tumblr #writing community #the black rose project

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Mariea Gosdin says she gave ghosts a place to stay when she bought a property in Greenville, GA. From 1896 until 1986, this structure served as the Meriwether County Jail. Now the section of the building that was once the jailer’s residence is a cozy two-bedroom, 1,450-square-foot home.

Gosdin paid a measly $5,000 for the property back in 2009. It’s now available for $499,000.

“I just so happened to be at a county commissioner’s meeting, and they were about to vote to tear it down, and I just went crazy,” Gosdin says of the day she heard that the property she had always coveted might be available.

Instead of bringing in the wrecking ball, the county decided to accept closed bids. Many folks looked at the property, but in the end, only Gosdin put in a bid.

Despite the paltry offer, the commissioners accepted the bid because it would have cost more than $5,000 to tear the place down.

For Gosdin, the work was only just beginning. What was once the jailer’s residence was completely separate from the jail area. And its walls are about 2 feet thick. The downstairs bathroom used to be a holding cell.

Everything had to be updated, and Gosdin estimates she spent more than $200,000 on the renovations. She said, “Everything had to be torn apart before I could put it back together.”

“It was horrible. There were like nine layers of flooring downstairs and many layers of paint on the upstairs floors, but I finally got down to the hardwood floors,” she says. In a nod to the building’s past, a cell door leads into a toilet in this bathroom.

Despite its history, the renovated home has a cozy feel, with high ceilings and lots of wood and brick.

She has an art studio in the attic. It’s her favorite room in the former jail & offers the best views—but comes with a creepy history. It’s where they hung prisoners. But, in her extensive research about the property, she says she found no evidence of people being hanged in the room.

You could see the mechanics of how it worked,” she explains. “There is a large beam up there with an iron ring screwed into it that they tied a noose to. It was directly over a wooden door, with a lever attached to it.”

Beautiful porch with pecan trees on the property. She loves the home, but wants to build a country house near her children.

The section of the structure that served as the 8,500-square-foot jail hasn’t been touched and awaits a new buyer’s ideas. It used to have at least 48 beds - there’s no power or plumbing.

“It’s peeling paint, rust, steel, and concrete. The beds are still in there that the prisoners slept on. I don’t want to touch it,” she says. “It looks just like it did when they built it, and I don’t want to mess with it.”

While the jail was in operation for nearly a century, it became notorious, and apparently some former residents still voice their complaints. Gosdin laughed when asked about the presence of ghosts.

“Everyone asks me that. I’ve had some weird stuff happen, and I have pictures with my ghost in it,” she says. “My lights go on and off sometimes, doors open and close sometimes, I hear pots and pans. I hear a room full of people talking, and when I notice it, it will abruptly stop. It’s like an auditorium full of people talking, and then it stops.”

The apparitions at least seem friendly. “If they scared me, I would leave. I talk to them,” Gosdin says. The spirits aren’t always around. “Sometimes, I’ll go months and nothing, and then I wonder if I have changed something they don’t like or if I changed something and they do like it and are just letting me know.”

https://www.realtor.com/

#historic county jail conversion #converted jail #unique property #long post

[becausewerehere]

Hey, there! I thought I’d drop by with a little (long-overdue) update on Because We’re Here. I’ve just re-read the last devlog post (the, uh, February 2020 update) and oh gosh, it’s like unearthing a time capsule! I was very optimistic 2020 was going to be a productive year, wasn’t I? Uh. Whoops.

Like last time, please manage your expectations! :’D This isn’t a very big update at all, and it’s more talking about the process rather than the game itself - but I thought I’d check in and just let you handful of faithful devlog-checkers know that the project’s still ticking along, haha.

Act III Development Update!

Act III is taking a bit longer than I’d hoped back in February, but it’s coming along! I've been trying not to burn myself out like I did with Act II (those last few months before publishing it were rough! And took me a good few months to recover ^^;) but also, it’s obviously been a bit difficult to stay focused and energetic throughout most of this year, and I’ve had a couple of points where confidence wasn’t really in ample supply either. What a year. Hoo boy. (This probably isn’t a very professional tone of voice for a project update, but that’s fine, I’ve long since accepted what kind of shambolic operation I’m running here and I’m sure you have too. xD)

The good news is: I’ve been on a bit of a roll for the past couple of months! I'm feeling much more clearheaded while I write, and I’m starting to get back to the level of gamedev optimism and energy I had in February. Which feels great! Obviously all those other factors mean that Act III isn't going to be released in 2020 as I’d hoped, but I doubt many of you are expecting that at this point, hah. :') However, I really want to get it out in springtime. As any of you familiar with the project's development will know, I'm effectively working as a solo dev and timetables may change, so that's very far from a guarantee, but that's what I'm currently aiming for! So watch this space!

(I will also mention that, with the work that’s been done so far, Act IV is unliiiikely to take a full year after Act III, and it's very plausible that that'll also be out in 2021 (albeit late 2021). But again, I really can't talk timings with any degree of certainty just yet!)

Anyway, the main thing I wanted to say today is: I'm actually going to start this devlog up again in the new year, and open with a proper, detailed update in earlyish 2021 -  looking more at where Act III (and IV!) are at that point. I’m aiming to have work on Act III almost complete and it sent off to my handful of beta-readers by then! But in any case, I’ll be able to give a much more concrete estimate of timings and so on.

It feels good to have broken the seal on posting again - this is me trying to slowly return to the world of Being Online. But for the most part, I'm staying true to my online nature (which is: hermit) and I’m going to keep quietly working on Act III for the rest of this year. And by January I’ll have done more of the programming and integrating the graphics, so I ought to be able to give some nice screenshots, and I’ll actually tell you a little bit about the act. And maybe launch the Steam page shortly after!! Exciting.

Though in the meantime, I might try and be around a little more than I have been. I was thinking of posting some more fanart up on here - I’ve had some really nice pieces come in on Discord and Twitter since Act II was released, and I’d like to keep them collected here with the rest! ;D

The Leftfield Collection

A really cool thing that happened (that I teased in the February update but ended up going a bit quiet on social media and didn’t get around to properly announcing on here) is Because We’re Here got accepted into the avant-garde Leftfield Collection showcase for the EGX Rezzed expo in London! It was supposed to be in March, but obviously fate had other ideas. Although BWH was briefly in a digital Rezzed showcase that got featured on the Steam front page and I got a couple hundred extra wishlists from it, so that was a really nice boost!

There was a neat article written about the collection on Rock Paper Shotgun here! I was very excited to go and exhibit there because I had such fun at AdventureX last November, so it was quite a disappointment that Rezzed couldn’t go ahead! But, I mean... by that point, it was definitely for the better. So, c’est la vie. In any case, I was super honoured to have had BWH selected for it, and it was really lovely to be included on a lineup with so many cool and interesting games! ^^

Alrighty, Then.

So that’s the Act III update. Thank you all for your patience! It's (QUITE OBVIOUSLY) been a strange old year. I know that a good amount of my setbacks this year have been shared by basically everyone in the world, ha. And I’m aware of how lucky I am that 'unproductivity and nerves' is roughly the extent of my 2020 troubles, so I can’t really complain. I hope you're all doing okay with everything the year has thrown at us so far.

I’ve had fewer people getting in touch and asking me about Act III than I did about Act II, and I think that’s a combination of ‘pandemic; delays understandable’ and hopefully ‘Act II left people a lot more sated than Act I’ ahaha. But fear not... Act III is definitely still on its way. And things are going well! I hope you have a good rest of the year, and I’ll update you properly (and if things have gone to plan, maybe start on a longer run-up to release this time around) next year! :D 

~~~~~~

Because We’re Here is a bittersweet otome visual novel in an unforgiving WW1-inspired setting.

Acts I + II are out now on itch.io and Steam!

You can also support Studio Elfriede on Ko-Fi! You’ll help towards the cost of the new Act III artwork, and get in the Special Thanks if you’re not already~

#because we're here #studio elfriede #otome #otoge #otomearmada #dating sim #visual novel #vn #oelvn #evn #renpy #indie gaming #history #ww1 #first world war #egx rezzed #leftfield collection #english visual novel #indiedev #vndev

[wallmountedairconditioning]

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1. Experience

Expertise goes together with enough experience. The most effective a/c firm should have considerable years of experience. Generally, select a firm with greater than five years of experience. Experienced ac system installers will choose smart strategies that will certainly enhance work efficiency. A reliable a/c unit installer must use techniques that will please clients' desires. In addition, a specialist with extensive information about different types of an air conditioning unit. There are various things you must take into consideration when mounting various types of an air conditioning system.

2. License and also Insurance Coverage Cover

Lawful records are vital when it involves ac unit servicing. A licensed firm will supply top quality services within the scheduled period. It is very important to make sure that the papers are official and updated. A transparent a/c unit company with a terrific track record will give you concrete details about its services. Dealing with an unlicensed air conditioning system might trigger some problems, specifically if there are mishaps in the line of obligation. Furthermore, an insured firm will certainly cover clinical expenditures, therefore reducing your threat of incurring losses.

3. Preparation

The best a/c installer should be prompt, specifically if you require emergency solutions. A trusted firm will certainly work smart to please clients' demands. A company that won't obtain in a timely manner will certainly lose clients, therefore increasing the threat of incurring unnecessary losses. It's, for that reason, essential to evaluate and assess the solutions supplied by an ac unit firm prior to deciding. Rapid solutions and also preparation will certainly help you save time and money.

4. Expense

Different air conditioning system companies will bill varying expenses. For that reason, it is very important to inspect the estimate of a number of firms before picking a firm that matches your spending plan. Stay clear of firms that quote economical price because some absence experience or some essential legal papers. On the other hand, stay clear of expensive companies and also select economical solutions that suit your needs.

5. Online Reviews

Lately, most clear air companies have main internet sites where they portray their services as well as experience. Furthermore, previous clients leave a remark that will certainly assist future customers to make sound choices. Prior to hiring a/c solutions, it is essential to inspect previous reviews. A trustworthy a/c installer has favorable reviews as well as remarkable rankings. Also, you should ask the firm to supply you with at the very least two previous clients who'll offer you more info.

Working with the best hvac repairman near me system services will ensure your ac unit system is functioning correctly. On top of that, there will be no more maintenance expenses.

[ingek73]

WORLD NEWS 08/01/2020 06:00 am ET

Meghan Markle, Prince Harry Fans Hatch ‘Unforgettable’ Plan To Mark Royals’ Birthdays

The Sussex Squad is at it again — this time with a scholarship #InspiredByMeghan.

By Carly Ledbetter

The Sussex Squad has something special in mind for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle’s birthdays.

Meghan Markle and Prince Harry both have birthdays coming up, which means one thing: the Sussex Squad has a plan.

The Sussex Squad is a group of supporters of the royal couple who regularly join forces around major holidays and birthdays to celebrate Meghan and Harry through charitable endeavors. Generally, organizers pick causes to contribute to, alert the rest of the Sussex Squad via social media of the effort and begin fundraising and donating in the days leading up to their deadline.

Dani Trin, a recent college graduate based in Portugal, helped create and oversee the latest campaign for Meghan’s birthday on Aug. 4 and Harry’s on Sept. 15.

Last week, she announced the “unforgettable” initiative on Twitter: scholarships for women’s education in partnership with the Campaign for Female Education, also known as Camfed. The non-profit organization works to eradicate poverty by educating African women.

The scholarships, dedicated to Meghan, is appropriately called the #InspiredByMeghan Scholarship. Donations from Sussex Squad members will support young African women through a year of technical and vocational training, specifically in the areas of nursing, engineering and journalism. As of Friday evening, the squad had raised more than $45,700.

HuffPost contacted Trin via email about the Sussex Squad’s history of charitable campaigns for their faves, how the most recent fundraising efforts came to be and what it’s been like getting recognition from the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.

The Squad first began organizing charitable efforts for the couple in 2018, when Meghan was pregnant with their son, Archie. The subsequent online movement was called the #GlobalSussexBabyShower and raised thousands of dollars for charities including Camfed, WellChild, which aids seriously ill children and Mayhew, an animal welfare group for which Meghan is a patron.

The Squad has since celebrated other major milestones in the couple’s life, leading a #HappyFathersDayPrinceHarry, which raised thousands for charities supported by Harry, and #ArchieDay, a celebration of Archie’s first birthday.

For the latter occasion, fans raised over $40,000 for coronavirus relief and, through the efforts of a separate group, planted over 111,500 trees in honor of the little one, along with donating to six charities focused on conservation.

This latest initiative is different, as all of the efforts are focused on one single charity, instead of three or four.

Trin wasn’t originally planning to do something for Meghan’s birthday, telling HuffPost she was burnt out from the organizing surrounding #ArchieDay. She’d also been focusing on graduating amid the worldwide pandemic.

But after someone asked her what she on tap as the next fundraising project on behalf of Harry and Meghan, she decided to do something for the duchesses’ birthday. She said that she’d been considering setting up a scholarship in Meghan’s name for some time and decided to go through with it.

“We were researching on how to set up scholarship funds and realized that it could get complicated having to deal with taxes and other people’s money,” she said. “So the best way to do it, it would be to have a non-profit organization to do it for us.”

Trin and fellow Squad member Elle Harris, who lives in New York and helped organize both the Global Sussex Baby Shower campaign and #ArchieDay, decided to partner with Camfed ― not only because of the work it does, but also due to the organization’s previous involvement with the duke and duchess and the Sussex squad. Harris told HuffPost that their last fundraising effort for Camfed led to 118 scholarships for young women.

WPA POOL VIA GETTY IMAGES

Journalist Anne McElvoy, Camfed Regional Director Zimbabwe’s Angeline Murimirwa, British campaigner Chrisann Jarrett, the Duchess of Sussex, Annie Lennox, Adwoa Aboah and former Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard attend a panel discussion convened by the Queen’s Commonwealth Trust to mark International Women’s Day on March 8, 2019 in London.

Together, the two organized the new scholarship effort, communicating over the phone, Twitter and email, while Trin organized Zoom calls to coordinate with the non-profit. Over 100 members of the Squad knew about the project, but they were able to keep things under wraps until their chosen launch date ― a date chosen based on previous virtual fundraisers and the estimated length of time to run the campaign.

A Camfed spokeswoman told HuffPost by email on Wednesday that this sort of activism from fans of celebrities is “absolutely unique” in the group’s experience

“We are uplifted by, and in awe of what they are doing,” the spokeswoman said. “The Sussex Squad has turned its inspiration into concrete action to make the world a better place.”

Calling the scholarships “empowering,” she added, “With this #InspiredByMeghan fundraiser, the Squad has created a really purposeful movement for good on Twitter. It’s not only about being inspired, but also being inspiring. You can feel the passion, momentum, and the belonging this engenders, and we are really proud and energized to be part of it.”

Trin said she chose the hashtag #inspiredbyMeghan “because, for me personally, it is thanks to Meghan that I realized how female education is one of the most single important areas to work on to better society.” She added that she wants to bring awareness to the cause and help as many girls as possible to continue their education.

Harris echoed Trin’s thoughts and said the group is continually “inspired by the example set by Meghan and Harry in their humanitarian work.”

“We’ve always operated as more than the common fan group. We’ve strived to make our admiration for Meghan and Harry mean more than tweets and Instagram posts,” she said. “We hope to make a difference in the lived lives of promising girls and young women.”

The Camfed account has been tweeting updates on money raised and scholarships earned.

Trin’s fundraising efforts and online support of the Sussexes have earned her a call in the past from none other than the duke and duchess. She said they called to express their thanks for the fundraiser in honor of Archie’s birthday and the continued online support.

“I think I might have rambled a bit, I’m not sure, but I remember telling her how proud of them we all are and that we’ll be here supporting,” Trin said. “I’m surprised I was able to form coherent sentences.”

While the call was unexpected, Trin added that she didn’t consider it completely surprising. “Before she joined the royal family, Meghan was into connecting with people through her social media and blog,” she said.

After keeping the news to herself for a bit, Trin tweeted about the call and Sussex Squad members responded with glee.

“I feel like everyone was pretty excited. It’s always nice to get recognition from Harry and Meghan,” she said.

“I think Meghan will absolutely love this birthday gift. I would even go as far as to say we are giving her the best birthday gift this year,” she said, before quipping that the latest birthday fundraising efforts are going to put a little bit of pressure on the duke. “Tell Harry to step it up.”

#royals #meghan markle #prince harry #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #duke and duchess of sussex #sussex squad #inspiredbymeghan #camfed #yay sussex squad #global sussex baby shower #archie day

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 4

“Well,” Ansgar set his pint down and folded his hands deliberately upon the table. “My business philosophy has always been one of going above and beyond the least. The least isn’t good enough, you see. Even, sometimes, my best isn’t…,” his hesitation was involuntary, but he recovered, tipping his chin beneath a haughty, prideful expression, “my best isn’t good enough… in my estimation.”

He shrugged, reaching for his pint and once again bringing it to his lips. “So, Joline Lindberg,” he took a sip of his beer and licked his lips, “what I am saying – what I am proposing, is that I… that Martinsson Construction, that is, provides you… the Stockholm Opera House, that is… with funding, some amount that you and I agree upon to meet some need for the gala. Whatever need isn’t met yet, whether it be the catering, or something structural, or transport, or security, or music, or, whatever it is where you see a need,” he set his glass back down again, punctuating his point, “I will provide it - not only the money but the manpower, the assitance.”

“So,” he said, his grin broad and honest. “What do you say to that sort of thing? Not an obligation, then, but a…,” he squinted in momentary thought, “a partnership?”

And with that, he held out his hand to her.

“A partnership,” she whispered reverently. The offer was more than she ever hoped to gain by borrowing her mother’s car and burgled shoes. It represented more than she sought to gain from meetings with Wiessing. “That’s a triumph for Career Jo!”

To a symphony of clinking glasse, scraping silverware and chatting people, Joline noticed a gentle breeze wafted her hand into his. Heartily she gripped and shook, “I’d love that really.”

His handshake was powerful, and his hand hot, strong and oddly tender. A silent force, but active reserve in play. He could use them to handle delicate china or deliver untold devastation.

“So this gala of yours, when is it? How can I help?” Ansgar Martinsson inquired after their hands lingered slight longer than custom.

Jo sat back beaming at the win for the Opera House. “Uh, same night as our season debut, the seventh of September. In the lobby. My staff has most everything sorted, being that it’s only a few weeks from now.”

Ansgar produced his mobile from the hidden breast pocket of his blazer. Swiping those long graceful fingers over the display, he entered some personal notes. “Please got on. I’m listening.” His direction sounded curt and clipped, but his tone was soft, sure and non-threatening.

Jo admired his directness, his business sense and his ability to multitask. He asked appropriate questions as Jo rattled off many of the details that she recalled from memory. The caterer had been scheduled, the staff to serve drinks, musicians hired, security increased and a photographer hired.

Ansgar gestured for the waiter to refill their drinks while he continued to make notes or sent succinct messages to Britta.

“I do have an idea – well, several to be fair – for the gala,” Jo finally circled round. “And beyond actually. I wanted to hold an auction, silent or grand – I’m still thinking it through. Fund raising for future projects in and around the Opera House.”

He’d put down his mobile to dedicate all of his attention to her plan. His legs stretched out underneath the table, one ankle crossed over the other. He watched as she got more excited.

“That’s where I need you,” she met his direct gaze. “Your contacts, your posh friends and business associates and their deep pockets. Come to the gala and bid up past costumes or set pieces or props. I’d like to restore and re-imagine that little theatre in the west wing, for intimate concerts and workshops for the university. The Globe did it years ago, and it works as another revenue stream all year round. But I need funding to do that. I’ll also need you to estimate the cost of that… a goal for such an auction.”

Ansgar nodded. “I’ll start making some contacts this afternoon, get some calls going,” he said. He knew, though, with those posh friends and business associates, those contacts weren’t as strong as they’d been before he… before he left. Some of those contacts he hadn’t even reconnected with since he’d been back, others had left him some rather negative emails and voice mails after reading the news of his return.

Where the hell have you been?

Why didn’t you tell me you were back?

How fucking irresponsible can you be?

Screw you, Martinsson. I thought you were dead.

Sorry, Sgar. I’ve got a new joint venture with….

We’ve moved on. Moved on. Moved on.

He smiled, bunching up his napkin and resting it on the side of his plate. “Shall we go? I can drive you back to my office. I believe your car is still there.”

“Yeah,” she said. “My car’s still at your office.”

The woman had dreams, big ones, and she reminded him of himself. She was tenacious, ambitious, and that ambition was attractive. He found himself smiling as she talked in the car, as he listened - as she spoke of funding sources and writing grants and relationship building and plans plans and more plans.

“And when I was in America, I worked for a major university, in their theatre department. I ran the fine arts center, and spent most of my time revamping the talent schedule, getting the stage equipment updated, and… hey, have you ever been to America?”

Ansgar pulled his car into its parking spot, shoved it into gear, and turned off the ignition. “Yeah,” was all he said, his voice curt and clipped. “I’ve been.”  He unfolded himself from the car and walked around the back. He opened her door and offered her his hand.

She placed her hand in his and stood. Ansgar felt a strange chill go through him, as if he was being scanned - she’d looked up at him, her eyes narrowing with a cock of her head. She studied him for a split second that seemed an eternity. “You okay? You seem a little bit off just now.”

Ansgar swallowed, giving his head a small shake. “Yes, I’m fine,” he said. Lowering his head, he gestured widely with his left hand. “This way. Your car is in the car park upstairs.”

“Thank you for lunch,” she commented towards the taller man’s back, his loafers clicking on the smooth concrete. The mention of America triggered him, in a small way, deflated him. He tried to hide it by leading the way to the car park. “By the way…” Her feet skipped a step to meet his stride and walk beside him. “It was unexpected, productive… thank you for that!”

“You are quite welcome. It was a pleasure.” Another bland automatic response, his thoughts elsewhere.

Jo didn’t take offense, only kept a steady gait with him. “Next business meal’s on me.”

He side-eyed her to check for truth or for an extra limb or appendage. Usually, back in his other life, when women learned who Ansgar was and what he was worth, the question of payment landed on him. All the time.

The sun beamed down on them then as they stepped out from the private carport overhang to the guest lot. No third arm or extra nose on the woman… no airs, no attitudes; she just was. He wondered if she handled his moody like she did her talent.

He found a smile, a weak and surprised one, underneath the mountain of memories. “We’ll see about that,” he responded noncommittally.

“May I ask you something? It’s a bit rhetorical, a lot personal, and entirely none of my business.” The two stopped at the door of the mini, the smell of Linnea, petrol and damp wafting off the river. “This is me,” she announced with an off-hand gesture.

Ansgar surveyed the car shortly, then the woman, and then the car once more. One eyebrow cocked up in disbelief. “This is not you.”

Jo cracked a smile. “Borrowed me. My ride…” she shrugged, searching for the right phrase, “uh, not appropriate for the skirt.”

“Ah!”

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Jo turned fully to her companion as they stood in the summer sun as it pressed down into them. She glanced at her feet, digging her hands deep into the rear pockets of her jeans.

Ansgar dared, as he always would regardless the woman, a trailing stare down her body. While she contemplated her shoes against the pavement, he drank in her long legs, firm thighs, and curve of her breasts, accentuated by the strain of black cotton. He yanked his focus from her just as she looked up again.

“I was gonna say… gonna ask,” she clicked her tongue against her teeth, losing some of her nerve. She’d be disappointed in herself if she didn’t speak her mind. “You said that you’d been away,” she squinted in curiosity, “Are you happy being home? Are you happy here?”

His nostrils flared. His lips pressed together into a tight straight line. The entitlement… the brazen…

Her hands flew up to beg mercy. “It’s none of my damn business. Don’t answer. Only food for thought… rhetorical, ‘member?” Another shrug lifted her shoulder, this one offered up in apology. “Thank you again for lunch… and your attention. Truly.” She produced her business card from her back pocket and slipped it into the pocket of his blazer.

“Ring me, won’t you? When you schedule work in the theatre? I’ll be there to help, yeah?” She didn’t let his silence get to her. “I’d fancy a lesson so I know what to look for… in the future.”

Jo felt that she’d shocked him enough for their first meeting. She voted against a friendly gesture of a kiss on each cheek. He seemed so in need of something nice, something pleasant, but she perhaps wasn’t the right person to extend that. Not yet.

She folded herself into the car, waving out the oppressive heat. “Until next time, Herr Martinsson.”

“Until next time, Froken Lindberg,” he said, giving her a polite bow of the head. He set his hand on the car frame, but it was she who closed it, leaning over and pulling the door closed with a tinny thunk. He lifted the same hand in a gesture of farewell as she started the small car, put it into gear, looked over her shoulder and backed it out, shifting again to drive away.

He lowered his hand as he watched after her for a moment. “No, if you must know,” he murmured. “I’m not happy being home. I’m not happy here. I’m not happy anywhere. Not yet at least.”

And he turned on his heel and strode back into his building.

***

Later, in the early evening, after he’d spent hours on the phone (angrily and heatedly lecturing… threatening… his sprinkler subcontractor, warning his surety agent, seeking counsel from his construction solicitor, chewing out his mechanical engineer, and instructing his public relations manager with regard to the gala) and another few hours bent over Opera House plans and specs, he sat back, yawned, and stretched. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck this all to hell.”

He hadn’t anticipated spending the entire day on the Opera House. He hadn’t anticipated coming back to face a shit-storm like he was facing, both physically with the coordination of work, or on a public relations level. What would it do for the press to learn that Martinsson Construction’s flagship project for the past three and a half years had sprung massive leaks? What would it do indeed?

It would do a massive pile of fuck all, that’s what it’d do.

Or perhaps, he thought he had anticipated it. He’d trusted his staff – or perhaps, when he left all that time ago, he hadn’t even given it any thought as to whether he could trust anyone who would carry on the business in his absence. He simply didn’t care, not then. There were other things to care about. Or not.

Perhaps he should have cared.

He’d left no note, no word, no nothing to the Board, only a quick email from a new, nondescript and untraceable Gmail account to his solicitors, telling them that he was taking leave from his position as CEO for the foreseeable future, that they should put the temporary succession plan in place, and that he would advise upon his return.

What else could he have expected?

And from Joline Lindberg? What more should I expect?

He shook his head, taken aback by the thought of her that slithered its way into his tired mind. The image of her, her anticipatory grin, those curves tightly wrapped in that pair of jeans, that blacker than black shirt showing off every bit of her, of her on that motorcycle she talked about, and… Damn it!

He scrubbed at his face, coursing his hands down to stretch his skin, his mouth gaping open as his fingers pulled down on the edge of his jaw to curve around and pull at the tight, aching flesh of his neck.

… and then he closed his eyes, and the thought of her invaded again. He found his fingers splayed, pressing lower, down his chest, over his stomach to his groin and…

Fuck! No! No fucking way!

He shook his hand violently. “She’s a client, you arse,” he muttered, sneering in self-disgust. “Dickhead.”  He woke up his computer, and opened his emails. Something to do, something to get his mind off of…

FROM: [email protected]

Ansgar sighed, chuckled mirthlessly to himself, and opened the email.

Jo slumped further into her computer chair, one foot tucked under her and the other poised on the lip. She bobbed her head, her chin brushing her knee. She chewed absently on the end of her pen, reading over her email… again. The screensaver popped up and littered her document with digital air-borne balloons, bouncing this way and that. A sign from some almighty spirit to save her from, in fact, confirming her brand of crazy for the man that she spent most of her afternoon.

Her mouth spluttered around her pen as she tried to call out to her mother. “Mamma?” she spat, her tongue falling out of her mouth momentarily. She threw the oral fixation aside and tried again, “Mamma?” She called blindly through the house from the comfort of her office, which was little more than a closet. She kept her desk, chair, laptop and a poster of The Globe in London on her wall. To this day, her favorite gig she’d ever done, and it was only a fortnight workshop.

“Joly, I’m… fine.”

“Are ya? Really? Can I get something for ya?” She untangled her limbs and padded along the champagne colored rug.

“No, no… Joly, I’m fine.”

Jo followed the sound of her mother’s voice to her room at the opposite of end of the hallway. She found the woman in her favorite chair near the window, knitting another scarf or booties or mittens for her grandsons that the eight year olds had outgrown about four years ago. “Did you take your meds, mamma?”

“You didn’t need to come in here. I heard yer mouth.”

Choosing to ignore the snark, Jo bent and kissed her mother’s forehead. She did it every night, not only as an ‘I love you’ but also to check her temperature subtly. Her mother hated the fuss, and Jo adapted her behavior to it. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yeah, yeah… I have. What are you working on in there?” Emelie jerked her head towards the door, her fingers working like magic, over and under, cross and weaving, gracing the yarn in a spell.

“Proving to my… partner… that I am as mad as he believes me to be.”

“Brilliant pastime, my dear.”

Jo checked over her mother’s levels and notes from earlier in the day before her treatments. She said nothing, only noted it to herself. She felt just a pang of guilt for not having gone with her to hospital that day.

“Joly, come away from there. I’m fine.” Her needles clicked and danced, progressing along whatever project it was.

“I’m going with you for the next—“

“Joly, torturing your… partner with your neurosis is time better spent than bothering over me.”

“Neuroses if you please, mamma.”

With that, Jo exited her mother’s room and headed back to her office to reconsider sending that email once more. She dropped into her chair just as she had before, swiping her middle finger over the touchpad to rouse it and chase away the balloons.

She read:

TO: [email protected]                       20:33pm  1 attachment

Herr Martinsson,

Please forgive the unexpected email AND the Stanley person who gave me your email. Not to worry, I don’t believe it was his true identity and you’ll be pleased to know that he didn’t give it up without a fight. Your employees do respect your privacy to the utmost.

I had some additional thoughts regarding the Opera House because I needed the distraction more than anything else. I sat down at my computer and wrote a formal proposal, see attached. I assumed that you would like some sort of project proposal and a contract between us. An understanding, if you will.

If you’d like to email me back, I’d appreciate knowing if you’re available, if you’re open to more ravings of a lunatic…

Or you can tell me to bugger off in your colorful way. I await your response.

Yours,

Joline Lindberg

And then she foolishly hit send.

#the best intentions

[ralphburch24-blog]

The Time You Remodel Your Home remember the Air conditioner

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Because of the large distances involved most of these numerous trips involve using a motor vehicle. When hiring a home improvement contractor in Central Florida, communication is very important. To make sure you get accurate estimates to contrast and compare, it is important to provide the contractor with what you expect from the home improvement job. The materials you choose for your home improvement job can drastically increase the remodeling cost. When you receive bids from different home improvement contractors, choosing the best one can be quite difficult. Comparing quotes offered by different contractors can help you go with the best one that suits your budget and requirements. By carrying out different home improvement tasks, you can enhance the overall appeal of your home. Painting your room, updating your kitchen, bathroom and master bedroom are some things you can do to increase the value of your home. 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Heavy excavating equipment, several tons of aggregate back-fill material, and other items might be easily accessible by a professional contracting company, but not the average homeowner. If you're waterproofing and beautifying the inside of your home on your own, then don't expect to pay much for the materials you need to get the job done. But hiring a professional waterproofing company, which might need to use some expensive products to fix your home, can end up costing you a significant amount of money. In addition, this cabinetry possesses zero air pollutants. Furthermore, this type of cabinetry is treated with water-based finishes, stains and topcoats as well as being eco-friendly synthetic veneers. As s result of such, no damage is done to the environment in order to obtain the wood, i.e. the rainforests are not depleted. Additionally, the disposal of the products would not further contribute to the deterioration of the environment. Moreover, these green cabinets can not only be used for commercial and residential use, but also can be tailored to accommodate generally any design style, including traditional or contemporary; regardless of which design company you use. Not only is green cabinetry eco-friendly, but it is also healthy for the individuals in the home. In fact, numerous people are treated every single year for exposure to the chemicals used in treating many of the products found our homes. While examples of such chemicals are commonly known, i.e. bleach, others are not as widely known, i.e. formaldehyde, and can be just as deadly, if not more. People like to renovate their house every couple of years. People don't necessarily renovate the house in full in one attempt, but rather than renovate an existing room or floor at one by one. People like to renovate their house every couple of years. People don't necessarily renovate the house in full in one attempt, but rather than renovate an existing room or floor at one by one. Normally everyone tries to avoid doing any major home improvements in the winter, purely because of the weather conditions and the daylight hours also. In winters its obvious that its cold and chilly days, and in the morning its dark, and therefore it also gets dark at a very early time so there's not enough daylight hours that workmen can work and get the project finished quickly. Its always better to work in the summer where its completely opposite, where you have plenty of daylight and the temperature and weather is absolutely brilliant. You have a wider selection and many of these stores will send samples if you ask for them. You can buy unique countertops that are shipped, carpeting, flooring, and paneling - just about everything imaginable. You may want to discuss the possibility of damage upon shipping to see what their policies are on returns. Be aware that because the product is being shipped that you may have to pay shipping charges. This can offset the discount price if you are somewhere that is fairly remote. Get a quote for the shipping before you commit to buying your materials online. You don’t want to agree to a discount price only to find out you are paying more once the shipping is added in. Warehouse Clubs Places like Sam’s and Costco’s may not have a large selection of home improvement products like flooring or carpeting, but they do have a good selection of tools at great prices. While you may not end up doing a whole lot of home improvement shopping at a warehouse club, you can get some good deals on tools to do the job. For improving your power bill and Maintaining comfot in your home. Pro Air Mechanical www.proairmechanical.com is your best choice for reliable , honest , advise. Pro Air Mechanical " The Problem Solvers"

#home-improvement-loans #home-improvement-cast #home-improvement-stores #home-improvement-contractor #home-improvement-license #home-improvement-store-near-me #home-improvement-neighbor #home-improvement-license-nj #home-improvement

[rhythmantics]

im new here so idk if its been asked yet but, are you still writing 'it will not obey you'? and if so, do you happen to have an estimate for about when you might update it next?

yes i am! it’s just taking a while. I can’t give you a concrete date, because what’s really holding me up is the rewriting process more than the writing one. But here, have some art?

#the secret saturdays #it will not obey you #Anonymous

[pdad58]

A Passover Unlike Any Other

Amid the Covid-19 pandemic, the Jewish holiday that begins next week will be celebrated in new ways—and gain new meanings.

ILLUSTRATION: RUTH GWILY

By Adam Kirsch

Updated April 3, 2020 12:25 pm ET

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How is this night different from all other nights? That question, which Jews ask every year as part of the Passover celebration, will get a new answer in 2020. When the holiday begins on Wednesday night, for many Jews it will be the first time in their lives that they cannot attend a Seder—the ritual meal that commemorates the Israelites’ journey from slavery in Egypt to freedom in their Promised Land.

According to a 2013 Pew Research Center poll, the Seder is the most widely practiced Jewish tradition in the U.S.: Only 23% of American Jews regularly attend a synagogue, but 70% go to a Seder. In the age of Covid-19, however, bringing together old and young people in a small space to share food is simply too dangerous. In Israel, where all gatherings of more than 10 people have been banned, the Health Ministry has urged Jews to limit their Seders to their nuclear family. Chabad, the international Jewish outreach organization, has posted a list of frequently asked questions on its website, including “Can I at least invite my neighbors?” The answer is “no, no and no!”

This advice is in keeping with the traditional Jewish principle that the preservation of life overrides almost any other duty. And a Seder is a religious duty, not just a chance to see extended family and enjoy holiday dishes.

SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS

How will you celebrate Passover this year? Join the conversation below.

Seder means “order” in Hebrew, and it involves an ordered series of ritual actions, prayers, songs and stories—15 steps in all, which are recorded in the Haggada, the Passover prayer book. The core of the Seder is a long script, usually recited by the guests in turn, which narrates the Exodus and draws out its meaning. One reason why Passover is the quintessential Jewish holiday is that you celebrate it by talking about it. As the Haggada says, “everyone who discusses the exodus from Egypt at length is praiseworthy.”

In fact, the Bible implies that while the purpose of Passover is to remember the exodus, the exodus took place in part so that Jews could celebrate Passover. “And this day shall be unto you for a memorial; and ye shall keep it a feast to the Lord throughout your generations; ye shall keep it a feast by an ordinance for ever,” God tells Moses and Aaron in Exodus 12, on the eve of the Israelites’ flight from Egypt. That Biblical passage is the origin of Passover practices that Jews still follow today—such as eating matzo, unleavened bread, in memory of the Israelites who had to flee before their dough had a chance to rise. 

Over the last 2,000 years, Jews have managed to celebrate Passover in the face of far worse challenges than Covid-19.

Over the last 2,000 years, Jews have managed to celebrate Passover in the face of far worse challenges than Covid-19. In the year 70, the ancient historian Josephus reports, the Roman general Titus besieged Jerusalem three days before Passover, at a time when the city’s population was swelled by the vast numbers of pilgrims who came to offer a Passover sacrifice in the Temple. The result was pestilence—or as we would now say, an epidemic—and famine, which according to Josephus’s estimate killed 1.1 million people. Yet the holiday went on—as it did even in Auschwitz during World War II, where some survivors recalled clandestine Seders conducted without a Haggada.

By comparison, the Passover obstacles of 2020 seem minor. The internet is already full of guides for conducting a virtual Seder, in which guests can read and pray together while eating separately. Orthodox Jews ordinarily don’t use electronic devices on holidays, but this year may be different. Last week, 14 rabbinic authorities in Israel issued a statement permitting the use of Zoom or Skype to connect people during the Seder, provided that the app is turned on before the holiday begins and not turned off until it ends. Other rabbis disagreed, however, and practice will probably vary from household to household.

ILLUSTRATION: RUTH GWILY

However people connect on Passover this year, they will likely find new resonances in the Seder. Everyone is thinking about the importance of handwashing these days, as a way to prevent transmission of the coronavirus, but washing your hands has been one of the first steps in the Seder for many centuries, as a preliminary to handling food. One Passover meme making the rounds lately rewrites the order of the Seder so that instead of handwashing occurring once, it’s repeated between every stage of the meal.

Covid-19 also gives new concreteness to the section of the Seder dealing with the ten plagues. The Book of Exodus relates that, in order to convince the Pharaoh to “let my people go,” God sent Egypt a series of afflictions: water turned to blood, the land was inundated by frogs and locusts, cattle were killed by disease, day turned to night. Yet each time Pharaoh refused to relent, until the worst plague of all, when every firstborn child in Egypt died on the same night. In this way God requited the genocidal decree of Pharaoh, who had ordered all Israelite boys to be killed at birth.

But the Israelites were spared, since God had sent them into a kind of quarantine: “None of you shall go out at the door of his house until the morning,” he instructed Moses and Aaron. The name of the holiday commemorates this event, as the Haggada explains: “It is a Passover offering to the Lord, because He passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt when He struck the Egyptians with a plague, and He saved our houses.”

MORE IN IDEAS

A Passover Unlike Any Other April 3, 2020 

The Science of Staying Connected April 2, 2020

Amy Compton-Phillips: A New Frontier for Medical Technology March 28, 2020 

W. Bradford Wilcox: Marriage With Family at Its Center March 28, 2020 

For most people alive today, the idea of a plague that strikes a whole nation—so that “there was not a house where there was not one dead,” as the Bible says—was until recently hard to imagine. Covid-19 is nowhere near that deadly, but it has given us an inkling of the fear of and vulnerability to disease that all human societies lived with until the 20th century. For the Jews of Europe, times of plague were doubly dangerous, since they were often blamed by their Christian neighbors. During the Black Death of 1348, hundreds of Jewish communities in Western Europe were attacked, despite the intervention of Pope Clement VI, who pointed out that Jews were dying from the plague just like everyone else.

The Seder acknowledges the horror of such afflictions with a distinctive ritual. When it comes time to recite the ten plagues, participants remove a drop of wine from their cups after each plague is named, either with a finger or by spilling it. The customary explanation for this practice is that it’s a way of symbolically decreasing the joy of the celebration, in acknowledgment of the suffering of the Egyptians. In the words of the Talmud, God “doesn’t rejoice over the downfall of the wicked.”

Throughout the Seder, in fact, joy and sadness are inseparable. Modern scholars have argued that the Seder is modeled on the ancient Greek symposium, a drinking party in which men would talk, joke and listen to music while reclining on couches. On Passover, likewise, Jews are supposed to drink four cups of wine and recline at leisure (a practice seldom followed today, when people are more used to sitting upright at a table). These are ways of demonstrating that Jews are no longer slaves, as in Egypt, but free people.

At the same time, one of the key ingredients of the Passover meal is bitter herbs—often represented on modern American plates by horseradish—which is eaten as a reminder of the bitterness of the lives of the Israelite slaves. Another dish, charoset, a paste made of fruit and nuts, is meant to resemble the clay used by those slaves to make bricks; and matzo is referred to in the Haggada as “the bread of affliction.” This year, for Jews separated from loved ones in the shadow of a pandemic, the chastened happiness of Passover will have a new meaning and relevance.

[artificialqueens]

Just the Game We’re In - Chapter 12 (Ortega

a/n: I have honestly no idea how to start this off, and I’m aware I’m not accepting a fucking Oscar, so I’ll try to keep this as short as possible. Back in the summer of 2016, there was a crossover fic challenge posted to this blog. I was in the process of finishing MasP and, as someone who fucking loved The Thick Of It and knew how well Bianca would fit as Malcolm Tucker, I posted chapter 1 of what started as a lighthearted, funny Politics AU, Just the Game We’re In. Fast forward nearly three fucking years, me graduating from uni and getting a job, countless long-ass fuckin update gaps and 179,065 words later, this is the final chapter, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do with my life now!! I know I’m not the first person to ever finish a fic in this blog’s history, i ain’t special sis, but I really do want to say thank you thank you thank you to anyone who has ever given any chapter of this a note, reblogged it with something lovely, made fucking fanart or a moodboard (still in awe at that), has read any part of it, or has simply been a friend I’ve made through the writing process. It would be criminal not to specially mention @purecamp- she has without a doubt been Game’s biggest cheerleader throughout it all and legit I may not have even finished this if it wasn’t for her. She is a fantastic person and an amazing friend. I’ll sound like a wet wipe, but Game has legit changed my life. When I was little my dream was to be an author and I loved writing stories. I had never expected my writing to get much of a response when I joined AQ but I can safely say that this blog has been so so amazing and has really allowed me to live my childhood dream of writing a story that people actually wanted to read (this is the definition of cheesy). I’ll shut up now, but here she is everyone. As always lmk what u think over at artificialortega, I tried so hard to make it the most absolutely perfect ending. Chapter 12 of Game, the final chapter. It has been some fuckin wild ride. Xxxxxxxxx

(p.s. phi phi ur a babe im sorry i made u the opposition in this fic and i know u don’t have shitty opinions like game phi phi)

The street was silent. Time had seemed to freeze completely, and even the sound of the car speeding away seemed to be on mute. Perhaps it was just the overwhelming ringing in Willam’s ears that drowned everything else out, which sounded eerily akin to a flatline.

Willam could only blink and feel her heartbeat through her chest, cruelly taunting her and reminding her that Sharon, lying on the concrete, might not have had that privilege. Was she moving? Was she bleeding? Was she alive?

It felt as if Willam stood there frozen for minutes but it was probably only seconds, as all at once she felt herself walking forward, two slow steps and then breaking out into a sprint where she skidded to a halt beside Sharon’s body.

Fuck, no, not her body, Willam thought. Beside Sharon. Sharon, the living human being.

“Sharon,” Willam felt her voice come out as nothing more than a hoarse, panic-induced whisper. She looked at the woman in front of her. Willam was relieved to find that there weren’t any horrific, horror-movie style streams of blood pissing out of her. Suddenly she remembered the phrase she’d gleaned from many hours of her Mum watching Casualty, “internal bleeding”, and her heart grew cold. There were some huge scratches on her head which were already taking on the greenish hue of a bruise underneath, and the friction of her body on the tarmac had ripped open the light Summer jacket Sharon had been wearing and opened a deep gash on the arm which sat ugly and unmoving, a stagnant red against her pale skin.

Her leg was bent at a gruesomely impossible angle.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Willam hissed, shock pulsing through her like a thousand volts as she grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and grew frustrated as it clung to the material and wouldn’t seem to budge. After some fierce tugs it finally emerged. Willam fumbled with her passcode two times then succeeded in opening her phone, and with shaky fingers she dialled 4 9s, deleted one, and hit the call button.

It rang once, then twice, then again. The ringing continued. Willam’s panic increased tenfold. How often do you need to phone 999 in your life, and when you finally do they don’t fucking pick up the phone?

Finally, the voice of the operator came down the line.

“999, which service do you require?”

“Ambulance, please,” Willam breathed out, the scared tone in her voice and the small, polite plea at the end making her feel as if she was about 5 years old.

“And the address please?”

Willam looked around, panic consuming her every movement and rendering her unable to see clearly. “We’re outside the Crown and Anchor in Chiswick, I don’t know the road name, um-”

“Can you see any road signs at all?”

Willam found her gaze focussing on a street sign a little further along the road. “Um. Belmont Road, I think? I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“Don’t worry, love, we’ve got it,” the voice replied soothingly, making Willam feel more like a child than ever. “And can you describe what’s happened at all?”

“My friend,” Willam began, then was suddenly cut off by a sob that unexpectedly welled up and burst in her throat, causing two tears to spring from her eyes. “She’s been hit by a car, it just came along from nowhere and it didn’t stop, she rolled right over it.”

“Your friend’s been hit by a car? Okay, my love. And you’re saying the car didn’t brake?”

“No,” Willam gasped, her breathing becoming more and more erratic as she sobbed. Fuck, where had all this crying come from?

“Was the car moving quickly?”

Willam frowned. It had been so long since she’d driven it was hard to give an estimate. “It seemed to be going pretty fast but I couldn’t say how much, sorry.”

There was a short pause. Willam looked at Sharon lying below her, then in panic around her as she realised she was still on the road. “I’m not being rude but is the ambulance coming?”

“Don’t worry, love, I know it can be hard when you’re waiting for someone to arrive. The ambulance has been dispatched, don’t panic. Keep talking to me. Is your friend conscious?”

Willam instantly turned to Sharon. “Sharon?” she shook her shoulder, lifted up an eyelid. “Sharon? Fuck, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so. Okay. Is she breathing?”

Willam knelt close to her chest and rested her hand on her heart. She felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest and wanted to cry with relief.  “Yes.”

“Still breathing, okay. And you said the patient’s name was Sharon?”

“Yeah, Sharon Needles,” Willam stuttered, momentarily worried about the headlines then cursing herself for the priorities she automatically had.

“Is she bleeding?” the call carrier continued, seemingly not the least bit fazed by the famous invalid.

“She’s got a massive big cut on her arm, but nothing else major. Um…some scratches here and there? I don’t know what’ll need stitches or not…fuck, fuck,” Willam breathed, the seriousness and reality of the situation hitting her all over again. “We’re still on the road, should I move her?”

“No, don’t move her, love. There could be broken bones which might be made worse if you do.”

Willam sighed, taking Sharon’s hand absent-mindedly. The small gesture almost broke her heart and reminded her of how things used to be. Maybe everything would be different if she’d never accepted Sharon’s offer of drinks, this may never have happened. She sighed in exasperation as she suppressed another sob. “Is the ambulance nearby?”

“I’m sorry love, it’s on its way. I know the questions can be annoying but everything we get we pass on to the paramedics-”

“She’s my friend,” Willam said softly, bringing her other hand up to stroke Sharon’s cheek.

“I know, love, we’re doing all we can at this end. Can you describe your friend for me? Age, gender, nationailty?”

The questions seemed to go round in a circle. They were endless, and Willam could feel herself growing more and more irate as the minutes seemed to tick by. Finally, after what seemed like hours, an ambulance slowly drew to a halt on the opposite side of the road to Willam. She immediately hung up on the operator and sprinted to the paramedics who were on their way over to Sharon.

“Hello there!” one greeted her, as natural and cheerful as if she’d just asked him about the weather. “Right, so this is our patient over here. What’s her name?“

Everything passed on to the paramedics my ass, Willam cursed under her breath, then spoke. “It’s Sharon. She was hit by a car.”

“Hello, Sharon, love!” the other paramedic greeted her, lifting her eyelids and shining a small torch into them. “Can you hear us, Sharon?”

Willam wanted to hiss at them that they’d get more conversation out of Helen Keller but she remembered that she wasn’t in Dosac any more, she wasn’t at work, she was lying on a road with her friend crumpled in a heap and no matter how incompetent these people seemed, they were there to help her.

“No response. Okay, grab the gurney.”

What followed this may as well have been another language as the two paramedics spoke in terrifying terminology about IV drips, lacerations and bone fractures. The man brought out a huge metal trolley that Sharon was lifted up onto after some form of yellow styrofoam-looking cast was placed around her mangled leg and another one was placed around her head. As she was carried into the ambulance, Willam, who had been silent for some time save for answering the paramedic’s questions, spoke up.

“Can I, um. Can I come with you in the ambulance?”

‘Of course you can, darling,” the female paramedic smiled at her. Willam momentarily wondered why NHS staff seemed to speak solely in pet names. “What’s your name, love?”

“Willam.”

“Willam, okay. And you are Sharon’s…?”

Willam paused for a beat. “I’m her best friend.”

“Bestie, aw that’s nice. So you were out for some drinks when this happened then, yeah? Girls night out?”

“Something like that,” Willam sighed, climbing the steps up to the back of the ambulance then sitting in the small chair at the end of the vehicle and putting her seatbelt on. Sharon sat in the silver trolley opposite her already hooked up to various machines. Symbols and numbers flashed on a small screen, none of which Willam could tell was good or bad.

“Okay, seatbelt on,” the woman instructed her, sitting down in her own seat herself. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time. Once we’re there, we’ll-”

Willam barely heard her as her mind began to drift away, and all she could focus on were the sirens attached to the ambulance that seemed so far away. That all-too-familiar sound that she recognised from streets and junctions was her and Sharon, the pair of them racing through central London in an ambulance.

Soon enough they arrived at the hospital, and Sharon was being wheeled out of the ambulance, down a ramp and straight into the building. Willam followed awkwardly behind, past people in wheelchairs and others in beds hooked up to various beeping machines and parked, or perhaps abandoned, in corridors. The male paramedic turned to her suddenly as Sharon was wheeled behind a curtain.

“I’m sorry- she can’t have anyone with her at the moment.”

Willam frowned, helpless. “But-”

“She’s in good hands, I promise,” he smiled at her, his gentle eyes reminding her of a long-dead Grandpa she had loved dearly and making her want to cry all over again. His face turned conspiratorial as his eyes shifted around. “Look you shouldn’t really, but if you go to that desk over there you’ll get taken to a relative’s room. It’s not much but it’ll be a quiet room with a kettle and a sofa and a phone and it’ll be a hell of a lot better than sitting stressed in the waiting room.”

Willam gazed over at the desk in question, opposite which were hordes of people waiting to be seen- some looked fine, some had huge wads of kitchen roll wrapped around cuts, there were a couple of drunk men singing football chants and a child with a toy stuck to their foot. Definitely not ideal company.

“Thanks,” Willam summoned up a smile to return to the man.

“That’s alright. I know you must have had a stressful evening,” he said sincerely, frowning.

Willam nodded to him. “It’s appreciated, um…”

“Mattheiu,” the paramedic smiled, holding out a hand for her to shake. She took it gently, thanked him for perhaps the third time, and made her way to the desk where she answered a few questions in a daze and then got shown to a small room, just as Matthieu had described- small, windowless, with dim lights and a single sofa and a little tray with a kettle, teabags, coffee and a pot of milk. There was a landline phone too, and Willam wanted to laugh at it before she checked her phone and realised she had no signal.

She sat on the sofa and took one deep, shuddery breath. What would happen now? Should she have phoned the police too? Willam hadn’t known what to do, but at least Sharon was being taken care of now. She hoped to God she would be okay. Willam thought hard. What had the car looked like? Silver. Or was it black? Fuck, she couldn’t remember. Number plate? Willam was fucked if she knew. This was terrible. If the police did arrive she would be about as much use as a bottle of Becks at an AA meeting. Something inside Willam questioned whether the whole thing had been an accident. It was easily enough explained- or what if it had been planned? Anyone who ran someone over would have stopped and got out and checked to see if the person was okay, surely? Maybe it was someone who felt too guilty to stop, who was too terrified in case they got convicted- or maybe it was somebody who was satisfied they’d completed what they’d set out to do. What if they’d charged the wrong person for the death threats? What if they had still been at large the whole time?

Willam sighed. Her head was too full, and it was killing her not being able to talk the situation out with anybody. Suddenly, it struck her that people would need to know what had happened. Two people in particular, Willam thought- one in particular that probably hated her but who would come into the hospital to sit with her, and to be with her. After all, she still cared about Willam, she had said so herself. The second was worse, but she still needed to be here. Willam knew she would immediately come in, no matter how bad things had been between her and the woman currently lying on a hospital trolley. She needed to know before it got into the press, and Willam had horrific visions of one of them finding out from a BBC News 24 notification.

Her professional brain urged her to phone Bianca first, and Willam growled at it angrily as she picked up the landline, looked in her contacts, and dialled the number of the first woman in question. She could have been apprehensive or afraid, but not right now. Right now she was afraid of something much worse, and it wasn’t on the other end of the phone.

Courtney picked up after four rings. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me,” Willam began, her stomach sinking at having to do this over the phone.

“Willam…it’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”

Courtney’s voice wasn’t harsh or reprimanding as Willam had expected. It was as if she knew that something was up. Sure enough, the Australian accent came down the line again. “Willam, what’s happened?”

Willam felt her blood run cold. She didn’t want to have to bear the news. “Sharon’s in hospital.”

“Oh fuck.”

“She was run over by a car,” Willam said, completely unsure of where the conversation went from here.

“Oh Jesus. Is she okay? Fuck, sorry, what a stupid question,” Courtney’s voice was apologetic, and Willam could hear commotion on the other end of the line, and snuffling.

“Courtney, don’t be upset. It’s okay, it’ll be alright,” Willam found herself comforting the girl on the end of the phone, annoyed that there wasn’t much else she could do.

“Are you at the hospital now? Can I come in?” Willam could hear Courtney struggling with something down the line, perhaps a coat or a pair of shoes.

“Yeah, please. We’re at Charing Cross Hospital. Phone me when you’re outside- no, shit, I’ve got no reception. Just tell me how long you’ll be and I’ll go and wait at the main entrance for you.”

Courtney gave a small, helpless sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know, I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for a taxi at this time of night.”

“Courtney, you live in London,” Willam said, unable to help herself as she snorted a small giggle.

“Fuck. Right,” Courtney matched her laughter, which quickly turned into a sob. “Fuck. Um, half an hour?”

“Okay. See you then,” Willam sighed, her heart hurting at Courtney’s panic. “Courtney, it’ll be okay. Don’t worry. She’s safe now.”

“Right,” Courtney replied with a sniff, which didn’t inspire any confidence in Willam. “See you then.”

With that, Courtney was gone. Willam deflated on the sofa, letting out what seemed to be all the air in her lungs.

That had been hard enough. Now for the phone call she really didn’t want to have to make.

***

Willam had decided to wait at the entrance a little earlier than she said she’d be, just in case Courtney was early too. Part of her was anxious about leaving the relatives room, in case somebody arrived with news about Sharon, but she’d said she would meet Courtney at the door. As she stood in the chilly night air, she watched as cars and taxis pulled up and people came and went, the hospital just as busy as it probably was during the daytime. Health didn’t sleep or take a rest, thought Willam, and she supposed anything could happen to anyone at any time. Life was scary, she pondered, and mortality was so fragile.

As she was wondering, she was suddenly distracted by a sudden, harsh pounding of footsteps on the pavement, and somebody sobbing. Willam looked up and saw Alaska running from a taxi and straight towards her. If it had been any other situation, Willam would have laughed- Alaska was wearing trainers on her feet paired with huge fluffy bedsocks, her outfit consisted of Winnie The Pooh pyjama bottoms and a huge, baggy hoodie, probably pulled on over her pyjama top. A huge parka topped off the look, and Alaska’s face was red and blotchy with puffy eyes which had tears streaming from them.

As Alaska finally reached Willam, she flung her arms around her in a hug and the girl’s body was racked with sobs. Willam sighed, muttering soft, calming words and rubbing Alaska’s back in circles. It had been a horrendous phone call even though it hadn’t lasted long- Alaska, just like Courtney, sensed something had been up, even to the extent that she’d known something had happened to Sharon. She had immediately broken down in tears, but Willam had hardly had time to say anything comforting to her before she was gone, presumably to phone a taxi.

“Is she okay?” Alaska squeaked out in between shudders and sobs. Willam gave her a squeeze.

“She’s in good hands. They’ve not given me an update but I think she’ll be okay. She was still breathing when I was with her so that’s a good sign.”

Alaska broke away from the hug slightly, horror on her face. “Oh my God, you were there? What happened?”

Willam sighed, not wanting to relive it all. “We had been for a drink and we were literally just saying goodbye. Sharon was crossing the road and we were mucking about, she was sort of walking across it really slowly. She stopped and paused in the middle of it and then the car just came at her.”

“She stopped in the road?” Alaska whispered. Willam could see her mind was going at around a thousand miles an hour.

“Alaska, it was 1am. The streets were dead.”

“But surely you could hear the car coming? Fuck, Willam, why didn’t you stop her or push her out of the way or something?” Alaska said, growing frustrated. Then, seeing Willam’s hackles immediately raising at the accusation, she stopped. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Willam, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault. Fuck, it’s such a mess.”

Alaska began to cry again and Willam pulled her back into a hug. As she started to calm down, Willam took her hand and squeezed it.

“I’ve been put in a relative’s room- nobody’s updated me about Sharon yet but then I’ve only been here for 20 minutes. Why don’t we go inside and see if there’s been any progress?” she summoned a smile for her friend, not yet letting go of her hand. She led Alaska back into the hospital, past the initial shopping-centre facade of coffee shops and WH Smiths that lined the entrance hall and staved off the horrors of the fact that they were in an actual fucking hospital- a place where people bled and suffered and died, and Willam hated it.

She had only just managed to find her way back to the relative’s room and get a snuffling Alaska sat on the couch when a doctor who seemed entirely too young in an all-too-stereotypical white coat entered. Willam could have laughed at how much of a parody everything seemed, until the doctor spoke.

“Hello, ladies. I’m Dr Hall, I’ve been put in charge of Sharon for the time being,” he stuck out his hand, Willam following suit and shaking it while Alaska was unable to rise from the couch.

“I’m Willam, that’s Alaska. She’s Sharon’s girlfriend,” she responded as she shook. Semantics could get fucked for now- Alaska cared like a girlfriend, cried like a girlfriend and worried like a girlfriend so for the moment, that was who she was to Sharon.

“Good to meet you both. I’ve just been in triage with Sharon and I’ve done an initial assessment with the head nurse. It’s hard to say until we run some more thorough tests, but for the moment we believe Sharon has sustained a number of injuries and she’ll be in the ICU for her time here.”

There, the doctor paused as if to take in the reactions of the girls in front of him. Willam had been aware of a cry from Alaska, but she was motionless and felt completely sick. “Injuries like what?”

“Well, we’re certain she’s broken her leg. That’s straightforward enough and we’ll be able to fix that. She also has a laceration on her right arm that will need stitched up, but everything else seems to be internal. Her breathing is very laboured so we think there could be some sort of fracture to her ribs or alternatively a traumatic pneumothorax, what you and I would refer to as a punctured lung.”

Alaska gave a gasp as Willam took all of the information in. She knew Sharon was hurt, but she didn’t realise just how bad it was, as silly as it sounded.

“Apart from that, we’ll need to get her a CT scan to assess whether or not there’s any internal bleeding or any other fractures or breakages,” he continued, his face softening as his eyes settled on Alaska. “I’m very sorry, I know how hard this must be for you both.”

“Can we see her?” Alaska asked softly, her eyes filled with tears. Willam let a small breath go.

“Alaska, you heard him. Sharon will be waiting to go for scans just now, she’s not in a fit state for us,” Willam sat down next to her friend and pulled her close. Exhaustion seemed to overcome Alaska and her sobs fell quiet, choosing to look intently at the floor instead. Willam turned to address the doctor. “When can we see her, though?”

“It’s hard to say. Once she’s had her scans she might need to go into theatre and if so, she’ll be waiting for that. When she’s done, we’ll give her a room and you can go and see her. Until then you’re welcome to use this room as your base, and if you need me at all then please feel free to ask at reception for me,” Dr Hall smiled gently, nodding to the two women as he left the room and closed the door silently.

Once he was gone, silence filled the small room. Willam stood up slowly.

“Lask, I’m going to need to head back outside. I said I’d pick up Courtney. Are you going to be okay here?”

The other woman wordlessly nodded. Despite the uneasy feeling in her chest, Willam knew she had to go outside to see if Courtney was there.

As she walked back to the same spot where she’d met Alaska, thoughts swirled around her mind and poured over the top of each other like a whirlpool. A punctured lung, internal bleeding. All of it was so horrible. Willam couldn’t help but imagine the worst, and her stomach felt so tight and sick.

She didn’t have to walk all the way back outside, as she found Courtney as she turned into the small shopping area. She was leaving the little M&S food (capitalism at its worst, Willam thought, putting arguably the most expensive supermarket in a hospital so people have no other choice but to buy from them) with a small shopping bag and her face, similar to Alaska’s, was red and tear-stained. She was dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and trainers but her hair was still curled neatly, indicative of her date just hours before.

She’d probably been having such a good night, Willam thought, and I’ve ruined it.

“Courtney,” Willam called her over, the other girl’s head turning at the mention of her name. Selfishly, Willam’s heart lifted at the brief light that shone in Courtney’s eyes when she saw her. As if everything that had happened between them had been forgotten, Courtney hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. Willam could feel her breathing deeply as she sighed and her mind cruelly taunted her, the image of a rib piercing through Sharon’s lung springing to mind involuntarily even though she knew that wasn’t how a punctured lung worked. For a moment they both stood still in each other’s arms, the two women simply needing held, one anchoring the other.

Courtney pulled away first, like Willam knew she would. She fixed her red eyes on Willam’s and her face was full of concern. “How is she, Willam?”

“Doctor was just in, they’re doing a scan on her now but they think she’s got a punctured lung and maybe internal bleeding. She’s broken her leg and the road sliced her arm open too. She could have fractured or broken more bones but they don’t know yet,” Willam sighed, unable to break Courtney’s gaze. The other woman looked sick as she glanced down the corridor. Willam could see she was looking at all the different horrifying hospital signs, each as cryptic and foreboding as the last.

“Oh God, it’s horrible. Absolutely fucking horrible,” she said softly, shakily breathing in.

“She’ll be in the ICU once they’ve finished with her, but we don’t know how long that’ll be. Alaska’s here, and they’ve given us a room to wait in,” Willam explained, as she began to walk slowly forward, gently encouraging Courtney to follow.

Courtney walked a couple of steps silently, then gave a panicked laugh. “I’m an idiot. I just went and panic-bought a ton of hospital shit for Sharon. I doubt it’ll be much use to her.”

Willam looked down at the bag. “What did you get?”

Courtney gave a humourless bark of a laugh. “Grapes, Lucosade and Heat magazine.”

“The holy trinity of intensive care unit accessories,” Willam quipped equally humourlessly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Willam having to fight the urge to reach down and intertwine her fingers with Courtney’s as they walked down each corridor. She couldn’t believe she was having these horrible, selfish thoughts while Sharon was lying on a hospital trolley somewhere in the building but the whole experience had shocked and scared her, reminded her of how unforgiving and cruel fate could be, and that was enough to make anyone cling to the people they cared for.

The rest of the time in the relatives’ room passed in a blur. Courtney and Alaska were reunited and tears were shed as soon as they saw each other, Courtney clinging to Alaska and muttering how sorry she was over and over again whilst Alaska silently stood and let herself be held, tears alternating between streaming down her cheeks and dropping directly from her eyes onto Courtney’s hoodie. They sat and they waited. Willam made the three of them cups of tea, none of which were drank. They tried to talk about things, mundane things, anything that wasn’t Sharon. They sat still and isolated from each other, save for Courtney holding Alaska’s hand tightly, her knuckles white and curled around Alaska’s fingers.

It had been roughly an hour and twenty minutes when the doctor from before re-appeared in the room, and just before he spoke there was silence like Willam had never heard before, as if the whole world held its breath.

***

The beeping was monotonous and creepy and clinical, but to Willam it was the best sound she’d heard in her life because as long as the beeping continued, it meant Sharon was alive.

She didn’t look very Sharon-like, though, she supposed, as Willam watched in slight horror as her chest rose laboriously up and down. Tubes snaked in and out of various limbs and an oxygen mask was strapped to her swollen face, upon which had developed several green and blue bruises. She looked awful, but she was breathing.

The hours had both dragged and flown by.  03.40, Doctor Hall had explained that Sharon was in theatre as the CAT scan had uncovered internal bleeding near her liver. Their worst fear. Alaska had cried and Courtney had been shaken and Willam sat and stared at nothing, paralysed with fear. 04.15, another visit from the doctor after a tense and sickening half hour in the relatives’ room, which had begun to feel like a prison. The surgeons had stopped the bleeding and Sharon would be okay, although on top of the punctured lung she did have a broken collarbone, two fractured ribs and a fractured pelvis. Willam hadn’t known if she was supposed to be happy that Sharon wasn’t in immediate life-threatening danger or full of dread at all the horrible breaks and fractures she’d sustained. 04.50, another visit from Dr Hall, and just as tensions were running at their highest the three girls had finally been told they could see Sharon.

That had been the last update before they’d followed Dr Hall up to the intensive care unit and into a small, mercifully private room which housed a bed, two chairs, a bedside cabinet, a TV, and Sharon with all her tubes and machines. Willam hadn’t been able to stop staring at the woman on the bed since she’d seen her, and neither had the other two girls. Willam had given both of them the chairs and she’d chosen to stand near the door, which meant she could see both of their expressions. Courtney looked pale and blank-faced, Alaska looked mournful.

It was Alaska who spoke first in an entirely emotionless voice. “She doesn’t look like Sharon.”

There was a silence which Willam filled. “He did tell us that she’d look different. I know it’s freaky but all the stuff she’s hooked up to is all stuff that’s going to help her, Lask.”

Alaska nodded silently. She looked at one of Sharon’s hands, the one closest to the bed, which had an IV line attached to the back of it. Her mouth turned downwards. “I’m scared to even hold her hand in case something else goes wrong.”

Courtney rested a hand on Alaska’s arm. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. It’ll be fine.”

Alaska leaned forward, reached a hand out and awkwardly rested it over Sharon’s, lacing the tips of her fingers through Sharon’s own. Willam let out a breath she was unaware she’d been holding, akin to a sigh of relief.

“When will she wake up, do you think?” Alaska asked, her voice small.

Courtney sighed. “She’ll be resting for a while yet, I think. The pain meds will knock her out quite a bit.”

“Do you think when she wakes up she’d be able to get me some?” Willam deadpanned, without being able to help it. She watched as Alaska turned to look at her, then bit her lip as she stifled a laugh. Courtney first looked to Alaska, then at Willam before she let out a small giggle. Willam smiled. It wasn’t much, an unfunny joke about drugs, but it had lifted some of the tension from the room.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed once, then twice, then three times. A call. She took her phone out of her pocket, and she could see the other girls looking at her forebodingly.

Caller ID- Bianca.

Willam had known that the phone call would come, she just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She looked at the other two girls, stepped out of the room, and took it.

“Hi, Bianca.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, which never ever happened in a Bianca Del Rio phone call. When Bianca phoned you she had shit to say immediately and she never wasted time. Now, though, Willam felt the seconds tick by. Her voice finally came. “Willam. What’s happened to Sharon.”

Willam cast her eyes through the glass to the three women in the small room, and her heart sank.

“Willam.”

Willam took a breath. “We were out together. She was in a hit and run. She’s in intensive care.”

There was some form of sound from Bianca that sounded both angry and anguished. Willam held her breath. “I’m sorry, Bianca, I should have phoned you earlier. I should have phoned the police-”

“Willam, you listen to me,” Bianca’s voice came down the line, hoarse and harsh. “Do not dare apologise. You weren’t to know. You got her to the hospital, which was the most important thing.”

There was a silence. Willam turned and looked at the pale, beige paint of the corridor walls. “It’s reached the press, hasn’t it.”

“Obviously.”

She hissed and let the silence linger. “Jesus Christ, Bianca, this is all a fucking hellscape.”

“I know. I know. And I can’t hold it from the front pages, Willam, they’re all fucking animals and they need to be fed. The Guardian have got a testimonial from a trainee nurse that knows all her fucking injuries and has leaked them all,” Bianca sighed. Willam had never heard her sound so hopeless. She was silent again. “You’ve been my first port of call. I’m going to phone the detective looking after Sharon’s case, because I don’t believe for a minute that this was a coincidence. Then I’m coming in to see her.”

“Bianca, don’t…” Willam began. How do you comfort a woman like Bianca? “Don’t worry about the press. There’s still a couple of hours before shit goes to print, we can figure something out.”

“I’m not worried about the press. I’m worried about Sharon.”

Silence.

Bianca’s voice came again. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take care, Willam.”

She was gone.

Willam walked back into Sharon’s room. Alaska and Courtney immediately looked up at her.

“The press have got it,” she said blankly. Courtney shook her head.

“Well, we knew it would only be a matter of time,” Alaska said softly, her face frowning.

“Bianca’s coming in. She’ll probably have police with her,” Willam said, then sighed as realisation dawned on her. “Which means I’ll get questioned. Can’t wait for that.”

Courtney caught her eye. She looked genuinely concerned for Willam and despite everything, Willam’s heart skipped a beat. Courtney rose slowly. “Well, we’ll all need coffee if we’re going to be awake much longer. I’ll get us some.”

“I’ll come with you,” Willam suddenly decided, Courtney’s eyes giving nothing away as she nodded her permission. Alaska simply looked up at them and then back down at Sharon. It was an unspoken fact that she wasn’t going to leave her side anytime soon.

Willam followed Courtney out into the corridor and then into the lift where they were both silent. Willam looked at the floor, then spoke.

“At least she’s alright.”

Courtney nodded. “True. I think we just need her to come to and then we’ll all breathe a sigh of relief.”

There was another silence as they walked into the small Costa. Courtney ordered three espressos with milk from a barista with purple hair and huge winged eyeliner, and they sat at a table and waited. Willam looked at Courtney’s face- the worried frown lines on her forehead, her glassy, tired eyes, her lips which were sore and bitten. She missed her so much.

“So,” Willam began, deciding to break the silence. “How was your date?”

“My date- oh!” Courtney looked confused, then enlightened. She gave a laugh. “Yeah…it was nice. Andrew’s a lovely guy and he’s a good old-fashioned gentleman.”

Willam wanted to laugh. What had she expected, Courtney to fall back into her arms? “Oh. Well, at least that’s-”

“But I think we’re probably going to stay as friends,” Courtney finished, interrupting her. Willam couldn’t help but feel her heart lifting.

“That’s a shame,” Willam frowned. Courtney looked at her for a beat, then spluttered a laugh.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” she asked softly as she laughed. Willam snorted.

“No, I guess I don’t,” she smiled affectionately. Fuck, she’d missed laughing with her, seeing her eyes crinkle up and the way she’d tip her head back and let her hair cascade down her shoulders. “So what was the problem, then?”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. “He wasn’t really vegan. He just eats quorn sometimes. I took him to a vegan restaurant and he looked so horrified at the lack of meat.”

The both of them laughed quietly. Courtney looked awkward, as if she was about to say something else. Willam felt her heartbeat through her chest. She knew that Courtney was holding back on something and so she was almost afraid to say anything in case she backed off.

“Besides,” Courtney mentioned, her gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “He could tell…that I wasn’t over somebody.”

“Oh,” Willam said. It was as if her body couldn’t keep up with everything. One minute she was worried sick about Sharon, the next she was almost going into cardiac arrest because Courtney had basically dropped a massive hint.

Courtney had raised her gaze and fixed it on Willam. “Somebody being you.”

“Right.”

Courtney laughed. “I thought I’d spell that out for you, because you’re a massive fucking moron.”

Willam coughed out a laugh. “I am.”

Courtney smiled a little, looked at Willam expectantly for a beat, then looked again to the floor. Willam panicked. She couldn’t risk losing Courtney again.

“Well…I’m not over you either,” she said quietly, watching as Courtney’s eyes snapped up to face her. Maybe Courtney had been missing her as much as she’d been missing Courtney.

Courtney gave a little smile. “I know.”

Willam obviously looked taken-aback because Courtney burst out laughing, which made Willam start laughing too. As the laughter died down, all that was left was the pair of them looking into each other’s eyes. Just as Willam was about to speak and just as it looked as if Courtney was about to too, the barista yelled Courtney’s order. Courtney jumped up and grabbed the little cardboard tray of three coffees with one hand, then turned to Willam, smiled and gave a little shrug. Just then, her phone vibrated again.

“Bianca’s upstairs with Sharon and Alaska. There’s someone from Scotland Yard with her,” Willam explained as she looked at her phone. Courtney nodded.

“That’s the fun over then,” she quipped, moving towards the exit. Willam’s silence prompted Courtney to look towards her, her expression concerned. “Willam. It’ll be fine.”

Willam mustered a small smile as she walked towards the lifts. She was so lost in thought and worry that she almost didn’t notice Courtney transfer the tray of drinks to her right hand and silently curl her left hand around Willam’s own.

***

It was six o’clock in the morning, and Willam was exhausted. She’d never been questioned by the police before, and she never wanted to be again. They were sympathetic but relentless, and with each question Willam felt more and more useless. How much had Sharon had to drink? What was the precise time that it had happened? Whereabouts in the road was she standing? How fast was the car going? What was its number plate? What was the make of car? What was the colour? What did the driver look like? What did the driver do after they hit Sharon? Which way did they continue driving? Every question was one that Willam felt she couldn’t properly answer. They asked her some questions about the previous death threats, and who she felt might have been behind them- did Sharon have any enemies, and suchlike. Apart from blaming most of the UK’s far right population, Willam had said she wasn’t sure.

She and Bianca had been taken to a station nearby to the hospital, and she emerged from the small questioning room tired and simply wanting to go to bed, but knowing that she would return to the hospital to stay with Alaska and Courtney. She wasn’t really in the mood to speak much to Bianca, and for once Bianca didn’t seem as if she wanted to chat much to her.

“How were they with you?” Bianca asked, rising from the chair she’d been sitting on in the police waiting room as she saw Willam emerge.

“Fine. Didn’t feel very helpful, though,” Willam said, sighing as she walked with Bianca. “I should have written the number plate down, or looked harder at the car, or tried to get a look at the driver.”

Bianca frowned deeply. “Willam, you can’t blame yourself.”

They walked out of the station and down the small, quiet road which was starting to become bathed with morning sunlight. Willam turned to look at Bianca. In all her time working with her, she’d never seen her look so troubled.

Seeing Willam’s concerned look, Bianca exhaled. “I couldn’t keep it from going to the papers. There’s articles online now, and it’ll be on the front pages. We stuck the TV on in Sharon’s room and it was all over News 24. I’m sorry, Willam, I couldn’t protect her.”

“It’s alright, Bianca,” Willam sighed, stopping as she got to the junction. A big black car was waiting at a stop sign, presumably Bianca’s. The spin doctor looked troubled as she gazed to the car.

“It’s getting dragged into politics already.”

Willam cursed under her breath. This was all they needed, Sharon’s accident getting turned into a points-scoring exercise by different parties. “What are people saying?”

“Some of it’s nice. Most of the party have rallied round without me even having to give them a line. Latrice has given a statement, as has Trinity. Shea has tweeted support, so’s Sasha, Peppermint and Maxine. Ironically Sharon getting run over by a car is the most uniting thing she’s done for the party. If I’d known I would have hired her a hitman ages ago,” Bianca laughed bitterly. Her face turned grave. “It’s Mrs fucking Blind Man’s Crumpet herself.”

“Fucking Phi Phi,” Willam hissed, surprising herself with how much venom was in her voice.

“She’s spoken with ITV and she’s given the whole wobbly top lip expressing condolences thing, but she’s trying to turn it into an attack on immigrants.”

“Fuck, did she stretch before she reached? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Willam complained, deeply irritated.

Bianca frowned. “Because The Sun, the paper we all love to line our cat litter trays with, is alleging that the hit and run was a terrorist incident carried out by an Asian man.”

Willam tore her hands through her hair. “But that’s bullshit, surely? Nobody knows who did it, the police don’t even know who did it!”

“They have a source,” Bianca said. “Which means that either it’s a bullshit source, their usual currency, or that the suspect has leaked it themself.”

“God, Bianca, this is fucking madness.”

Bianca looked at the pavement awkwardly, then at Willam. “Look, I wasn’t going to mention it to you today given the massive amount of stress you’ve already been put through, but we need something on Phi Phi’s party to distract from this mess. If you have anything…well, we’d all appreciate it. Especially Number 10, if you get me.”

Willam momentarily wished she was lying sleeping on a hospital bed instead of Sharon.

“Okay,” she simply nodded once, her mind too full of words to say anything else. Bianca nodded back in goodbye and walked towards her car. Willam watched her climb in and drive off before beginning her own walk back to the hospital. On the way she saw people walking to work, some of whom gave her funny looks. She wondered if they all knew what had happened, until she realised she was still in her clothes from last night- green fur jacket, black lace crop top, tight black skirt without tights and platform trainers on her feet.

Before long she was back at the hospital and in the lift up to the ICU. As she found Sharon’s room, it was almost as if the past hour or so hadn’t happened as the girls were still in the same position- Sharon unmoving on the bed, Alaska staring at her and holding her hand, and Courtney with her phone in her hand texting furiously. Alaska and Courtney looked up as Willam entered the room.

“Hey,” Courtney said, her eyes slightly wide in anticipation. “How was it?”

“It was okay. They asked me a bunch of things I couldn’t answer and then a couple of things I could. I just felt like a fucking failure, like I was no help at all.”

“Stop it,” Courtney frowned, chastising her. “You’re not a failure at all. I bet you were really helpful. Here, come sit. You must be shattered.”

With that, Courtney rose from her chair and beckoned Willam to sit. Too exhausted to protest, Willam slid into it. She looked at Sharon, then Alaska.

“Anything?”

Alaska sighed deeply. “Nothing. She hasn’t even moved.”

Worry churned in Willam’s stomach. Courtney piped up. “The doctor was in though, and he said that sometimes it can help to talk to them even if they’re not responding.”

“Did you try it?”

Alaska chuckled. “We read her some of Heat magazine.”

“Oh, good, she’d have loved that,” Willam said dryly, causing Courtney to snort. Willam thought for a moment, then turned back to Alaska. “Well, when she wakes up, you’ll be sitting there. She’s not properly seen you for ages. Why don’t you talk to her? Explain your side of everything that’s happened.”

Willam looked to Courtney for approval, who shrugged. “Worth a try, Lask.”

Alaska took a deep breath, laughed a little self-consciously, then turned to Sharon.

“Hey babe,” she began, looking at Willam and Courtney in embarrassment, then back to Sharon. “God, this is just…literal torture seeing you like this. Somehow I just feel like all of this is my fault, maybe if I’d stayed with you then you wouldn’t have gone out with Willam and none of this would have happened. I’m an absolute dick, really, because I’ve been ignoring you and every single attempt you’ve made at trying to contact me and then Willam phoned me and told me about what happened and all I could think about was getting here and being with you. It was the worst fucking moment of my life, Sharon. I kept torturing myself and wondering what if she never wakes up, that the last contact I had with you was over some fucking stupid USB stick that I didn’t even want to give to you in the first place? And I couldn’t even tell you-”

Willam looked up as Alaska sniffed. Tears were running down her face and welling in her eyes, and Alaska used the hand that wasn’t holding Sharon’s to wipe at her nose.

“I couldn’t even tell you want I wanted to tell you- that I wanted to just put everything aside and make up with you, to stop our stupid fucking fight, to tell you that I never wanted to end things with you and that the whole thing was a horrible, stupid mistake,” Alaska sobbed, snuffling and taking a deep breath in. “And I couldn’t even tell you that I loved you- that I love you- and when I got that call I was so fucking terrified of never being able to say it to you again. Do you remember when we first said it to each other, Sharon? It was the night we went out for dinner at that Italian restaurant at like, eleven o’clock after I’d gone with you to Newsnight, and you walked me back home and we watched a film- The Other Woman- and you hated it, and you were making all these jokes about it and I was joining in and we laughed so much that when it died down and we just looked at each other I couldn’t help but say it. And you said it back right after? Why can’t we go back to the way things were? Fuck, I would have kept our relationship secret for a lifetime if it meant we could have just stayed together. In fact fuck, if it means so much Sharon, I won’t pursue the whole MP thing. You’re more important to me than my job, you’re more important to me than life. I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved in my life so please…”

Alaska took a big gulp of air. “…please, fuck, get better.”

Willam and Courtney stood in a horrible, cold silence as they watched Alaska cry quietly to herself. Suddenly, Willam gave a slight jump as Sharon’s free hand came up to her face and slowly lifted the oxygen mask to one side.

“You are becoming an MP, bitch,” she croaked hoarsely, causing Alaska’s gaze to shoot up to look at her girlfriend. “There’s no way you’re giving up on that just because I’m in a hospital bed.”

Willam choked a laugh as she looked at Alaska, her face at once shocked and relieved. She looked slightly as if she didn’t know what to do for a moment, then elected to burst out crying, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face to kiss it over and over again. Sharon laughed- tiredly, weakly, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

“Jesus Christ, you took your time there,” Willam smiled, part of her wanting to cry in relief too.

“How long have I been out for?” Sharon asked, coughing as she sat up.

“Since about 1. It’s like, 6.15 now.”

“Shit,” she said, her voice weak.

“How are you feeling?” Courtney asked, visibly relieved too.

“Like someone’s kicked me half to death. Pain meds do shit all, I feel like shit but also incredibly high,” Sharon wheezed, then turned to Alaska. Her face softened and judging by Alaska’s reaction, she had squeezed her hand. “Hey, stranger.”

Alaska laughed through her tears. “Hey.”

Sharon smiled affectionately. “Is this all I had to do to get you back, then? Get run over?”

“Don’t,” Alaska half-laughed, half-cried, then kissed Sharon’s fingers. “Sharon, I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I was so fucking worried.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard it all. I could have said something halfway through, I just wanted you to keep saying more nice things about me,” Sharon joked, still her old self despite the tubes and drips and machines. Her expression grew dark as she turned to Courtney. “Oh, by the way. Never read me fucking any women’s magazine ever again. Hearing about Natalie Cassidy’s fucking colonoscopy was more painful than getting struck down.”

All four of the girls laughed, happy to be together with everyone conscious and cheerful all over again.

“Bianca’s been round. And people have said nice things. Trinity, Peppermint, Latrice, Max, Shea, Sasha,” Willam mentioned, thinking it would cheer Sharon up. Sharon smiled in a lazy, drugged-up-on-pain-meds way.

“God. All that in five hours? Did Bianca leave flowers?”

“No, of course not,” Alaska sighed. Then she laughed. “She stuck News 24 on.”

The girls all laughed again, this time quieter. Courtney took a deep breath and stretched. Sharon narrowed her swollen eyes at her.

“Are we boring you, Act?”

Courtney gave a smile. “Listen, I’ve been up a long time. It’s hard to squeeze a date, a trauma and a relief into one night. Slash…morning.”

“Oh yeah, how did that go?” Alaska asked pleasantly. She’d still not let go of Sharon’s hand, Willam noted with a smile.

“It was nice. We’re going to stay friends, though.”

Sharon looked at Willam meaningfully. Willam gave her a look that simply said, behave.

“Fair enough. I think me and Alaska are going to stay friends too,” Sharon smiled lazily, laughing as Alaska’s face grew bashful.

“Stop it. I’ve suffered enough,” she leaned her head over to nuzzle it into the crook of Sharon’s neck, one of the few parts of her that didn’t have wires or tubes coming in or out of it.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Alaska frowned and lifted her head off of Sharon’s shoulder momentarily. “This isn’t the broken collarbone, is it?”

Sharon laughed. “I broke a collarbone? Oh, well, fucked if I know. Everything hurts.”

Willam laughed. She stretched and yawned. Life and normal routine seemed so far away. “I think I should go home and sleep, now that I know you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Courtney said, giving a yawn that Willam could tell was fake. Why was that?

“You guys go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a while,” Alaska smiled at Sharon, the other woman returning her smile and shrugging.

“You can go home if you want, babe. I might have another snooze.”

“Well, I’ll snooze with you,” Alaska said matter-of-factly, shuffling her chair forward and resting her head on Sharon’s side. Sharon smiled and used her other hand to stroke Alaska’s hair.

Willam looked at Courtney, taking her cue to leave. She cast her gaze back to the couple. “I’ll be back when I’ve had a sleep and something to eat. Bianca might be back, just to warn you.” She wondered if she should mention the shit with Phi Phi. She decided not to.

“Oh, goody,” Sharon sighed, re-adjusting her oxygen mask so that it was over her face as a goodbye. Alaska waved sleepily to her friends and then Willam left the room, followed by Courtney. They walked down the corridor silently for a minute, neither one of them sure of what to say. Courtney’s words from earlier swirled around in Willam’s mind, and the fact that the two of them were alone together again, with so much possibility and opportunity of things that could be said, made Willam’s skin prickle in excitement and optimism.

As if she could read Willam’s mind, Courtney gave a small sigh as they both walked into the open air. She turned to face Willam and looked her in the eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I could really murder a glass of wine.”

“Same.”

Courtney was still looking at her. “Well, I’ve got wine at my place, if you want to come.”

Willam didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Sounds good.”

They talked about trivial things on the walk to the tube, and on the tube itself. The elephant in the room (or train carriage) was enormous and almost suffocating, and the sound of the train against the electric charges almost mirrored the electricity that seemed to run through Willam’s veins - Courtney isn’t over me, and I’m not over her.

It was almost seven o’clock in the morning by the time they got to Courtney’s flat, but the sheer adrenaline that was pumping through her heart was keeping Willam awake. As Courtney opened her front door for Willam and slipped off her shoes, Willam looked around at the small hallway. It had been around four months since she’d last been here, but nothing had changed. It was somehow reassuring to Willam. She followed Courtney into the kitchen where the other girl had pulled out two bottles of wine- an unopened red with a somewhat dusty bottle, and a half-full white with that fresh-from-the-fridge wet glaze.

“I like either, so it’s your pick,” Courtney smiled easily, making Willam wonder whether or not she was feeling the same mix of apprehension and excitement.

“Well, white’s going to make us feel less guilty about the fact we’re drinking wine when we’re normally getting ready for work,” Willam shrugged, Courtney snorting a laugh and fetching two glasses from a cupboard below her breakfast bar. She picked up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other and made her way through to the living room, Willam following behind her. As they slumped down on the sofas and Courtney poured the wine out, Willam sighed.

“I’m so fucking relieved she’s okay.”

Courtney looked at her, an expression on her face that Willam couldn’t make out. “I just can’t believe it all actually happened. It’s like a horrendous nightmare,” she lifted up her glass. “To Sharon being alive.”

Willam smiled lazily and echoed the sentiment. “To Sharon being alive.”

There was silence for a moment as they both took a sip, Willam watching the early morning sun bathe the skyline out of Courtney’s French doors.

“Do you think…it was deliberate?” Courtney spoke quietly, Willam looking at her only to find Courtney was looking at the view as well.

“Fuck, I don’t know. The police think so. Could be, or it could be a jittery driver with a guilty conscience who didn’t want to stop.”

Courtney nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t the doctor say she was lucky to be alive? Ten miles an hour more and she wouldn’t have made it. If it was a main road and the car wasn’t going that fast, it kind of sounds like someone was parked waiting for her. Do you not think?”

Willam rolled her eyes. “Or it was just someone that wasn’t driving very fast.”

“On a main road like that at 1am? Willam, come on.”

Willam couldn’t help but laugh. “What is this, CSI: Sydney?”

Courtney walloped Willam on the arm, then laughed with her. She sighed. “I’ve just been sitting waiting with Alaska for so long that I’ve had all of these thoughts running around my head, but of course I couldn’t share them with her. I’m glad you came back with me.”

Willam’s heart gave a jump. She wanted to say something in response, something flirty that didn’t come on too strong, but her mind couldn’t conjure anything up.

Courtney spoke again, and Willam noticed she had that same look on her face as before. “So how come you were,” she paused the tiniest amount. “…out with Sharon anyway?”

“She suggested it. Probably thought it’d cheer us both up,” Willam shrugged, taking another sip. She noticed Courtney still hadn’t taken that look off her face. What did she want from her?

Honesty?

“Court, you should probably know. And I probably should’ve told you sooner. Me and Sharon had this whole thing when we were at uni,” Willam felt herself just coming out with it and it was like jumping out of a moving vehicle. Courtney’s expression finally relaxed.

“Okay.”

Willam picked at a stray thread on a sofa cushion. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Because I’m not,” Courtney said plainly, taking a small sip. She paused, then added, “You always had this weird tension between you when you started. Like you really weren’t keen on her and I couldn’t see why. She always seemed as if she was walking on eggshells slightly around you. It only really seemed to go away…gosh, I don’t know when. But I always wondered why you were like that with her.”

Willam looked out at the view again. “I tried to reset my own view of the whole situation. I told anyone who asked that I knew her from uni, and that wasn’t a lie, but just not the full truth either.”

There was a small silence. Courtney leant over to top up their glasses. As she was pouring, she spoke again. Willam noticed how level and nonchalant her voice was, as if she was making a particular effort not to sound too interested. “So what was it that went on between you?”

Willam exhaled. Even after she’d talked through it all with Sharon, she still didn’t know what they’d been. “A miscommunication. She thought we were just friends that fucked, which we were. I saw it as more than that. I was a young, naive little bitch and I just got too deep in my feelings. It’s fucked, though, because the whole thing just made me so scared of relationships. Like what if it ever happened again to me and I was into it but the other person wasn’t?”

Courtney nodded understandingly. Her eyes were soft. It was scary to Willam to be telling Courtney all of this, but she didn’t seem to be scared off by it.

“Wonder how that feels, to be really, really into someone only to find out that they weren’t on your wavelength about it at all.”

“It was-” Willam started, then stopped as realisation dawned on her. She looked at Courtney, who was trying to conceal a smile. Willam laughed apologetically. “Fuck.”

Courtney gave a soft laugh, reaching out and taking Willam’s free hand. She held it gently. The gesture almost broke Willam’s heart. All at once it hit her just how badly she’d fucked up with Courtney. Only now was she realising that she had put Courtney in the exact same position that she had been in with Sharon all those years ago. Looking at Courtney’s hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Courtney, I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Courtney gave a peaceful smile. “I know you are.”

Willam smiled back. A small weight on her heart noted that she’d not been forgiven, only acknowledged, but after the past fortnight or so, acknowledgement was better than nothing.

“What was Bianca saying anyway?” Courtney continued, sipping her wine again. Willam sighed deeply.

“Well, you know that Phi Phi’s trying to politicise everything already. Bianca wants something on her party to take the heat off Sharon.”

Courtney grimaced and shook her head. She still hadn’t let go of Willam’s hand. “Jesus Christ, it’s all so messy and gross and tasteless.”

“I know, Court, but it’s our career. It was bound to happen. Politician gets hit by car, it turns political. Politician does anything, it turns political,” Willam shrugged, taking a drink. The sun was higher in the sky now and it was illuminating Courtney’s hair so beautifully.

“What are we supposed to get for her? This situation’s already stressful enough as it is.”

Willam felt herself tense up. She allowed herself to confront what she’d been pushing to the back of her mind all this time. She still had those photos on her phone of Roxxxy and Detox from all those months ago at Alyssa’s ball, and Phi Phi had recently voted against an LGBT-inclusive curriculum in secondary schools. How would the media react if she’d unknowingly voted against a policy which showed disapproval towards her own two advisors?

“I have something,” Willam stated simply, causing Courtney to sigh in relaxation.

“Thank Christ. Just give it to Bianca now and she can get out of our hair and let Sharon recover. What is it, anyway? Oil dumping in the Pacific? Foxhunting?” she laughed gently, stopping as she saw Willam’s grave face.

“Roxxxy and Detox,” she said. Courtney’s face dropped, her wine glass tipping over a little and threatening to spill. “I got photos of them at Alyssa’s ball, together. It would make Phi Phi look like a massive idiot and would take her down more than a few pegs…” Willam let all the air out of her body and looked into her glass. “…but it also outs both of her advisors.”

Courtney looked sick. “Oh God. Willam, you can’t do that.”

“I know,” she shook her head and wondered if she could voice the other horrible thought in her head. Communication could be good right now, she supposed. “Although part of me thinks why not? Fuck them, you know? They were both absolute cunts to Alaska, they work for a fucking sycophant. And I just…ugh…I really want that Number 10 job, and Bianca heavily implied that any info on this could get me it.”

She looked hesitantly for Courtney’s reaction. It turned out there were a lot of them. First, she wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face in a brief display of disgust. Then, her expression completely dropped as if she was considering something. Finally she put her glass down, reached out to take Willam’s hand in her own, and gazed at her kindly.

“Willam,” she began. “Why do you want this job so much?”

Willam gave a choked laugh. “I mean it’s…it’s my fucking dream, Courtney. It’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life, to get to Number 10, to actually say I work there. I’ll have finally made it…and not many people can say that.”

“Okay,” Courtney nodded. Willam could tell she was listening intently. “So…you get the job at Number 10, let’s say. And what then?”

Willam blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What then? What do you aim for, what do you aspire to be after that? If that’s your life’s dream and it’s already achieved? Bill, you’re not even 30 yet,” Courtney smiled gently, tucking a piece of Willam’s layers behind her ear. “If you complete your life’s goal and you’re not even at the halfway point…what happens then?”

Willam felt completely blank. “Well, I…”

Courtney continued. “I know you don’t want to be PM, because you’re happy in the background. I know you don’t have any designs on leadership for the same reason. So what else is there?”

Willam paused and thought, trying to summon up something. “Bianca’s going to have to retire at some point.”

Courtney barked a laugh. “And what, you take her job? You take the job that consumed Bianca’s life so much she ended up getting divorced and she now lives on her own with no family? You want that life?”

Willam felt as if she’d heard Courtney’s voice catch in her throat. She was looking at her almost pleadingly, hopefully, desperate for what she deigned the right answer. Her intensity unsettled Willam. Or perhaps it was the truth in all that Courtney was saying? She’d never once reconsidered her determination to get to Number 10, never once wavered in her decision-making, because if she changed her mind about the job she’d wanted for so long, what was left?

“What do you have at Dosac? You’ve got me, you’ve got Sharon, you’ve got Alaska and the other girls. You’ve got a considerable amount of influence, you’re a big fish in a small pond. Other departments know your name, you’ve got so many opportunities. And if you change now…all that will be gone.”

Willam looked out of the windows again. The sun was now directly at her eye level. She turned back to Courtney and frowned at her. “Why are you saying all this, Court?”

Courtney looked away as if Willam’s gaze had burnt her. “I’m not trying to stop you from going after what you want, Willam. That would make me a horrific friend and an even worse person. I’m just trying to get you to be sure that it really is what you want.”

Willam’s voice caught in her throat. She looked away from Courtney, drained her glass, then placed it gently on the coffee table in front of them both.

“I should probably go home-” Willam began, making to slide off the couch, but Courtney gripped tighter to her hand. Turning, Willam saw a need in Courtney’s eyes that she’d never once experienced before.

“Stay,” she said simply. It was so quiet but so strong, and the blood in Willam’s veins was freezing and icy but pumping so rapidly like an ice cold waterfall, and she could feel her heart plummeting with it.

“Why?” Willam asked, and as soon as it left her mouth she cursed herself for it, but a part of her wanted to hear Courtney say what was on her mind. Frowning and sighing a tiny, needy sigh, Courtney gently tugged at Willam’s hand.

“I just need to be…close to you just now. Because I’ve fucking missed you.”

Willam looked at her hand in Courtney’s, then met her eyes.

Now or never.

And in one fluid movement Willam was back on the sofa, both her hands fisted and tangled in Courtney’s blonde hair, melting and moaning into a kiss full of fire that Willam wanted never to end.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Instead of grey skies and pouring rain, the sun that poked through the blinds was golden and warm, lighting up the room. Courtney was still in the bed, her eyes shut with her dark lashes fanned out and framing them as she slept. Probably the biggest difference, though, was that both of them were completely naked.

Sex with Courtney was every bit as amazing as Willam had imagined it would be, and she was already sorry that she couldn’t remember every single second of the entire thing in detail. She could swear that nobody else, not even Sharon, could make her feel the way Courtney had made her feel last night. She had expected it to be good and for Courtney to know what she was doing, but what she didn’t expect was for Courtney to have a mouth like a phone sex chat line girl and she had actually almost laughed in awe of the stuff she was coming out with. She didn’t know if it was the intensity of the situation that fed into it- there were so many emotions that Willam had been put through last night (or this morning, she supposed) that she had almost cried once everything was over and Courtney was holding her in her arms, but she hadn’t. She’d been calm, and happy, like her life was finally at peace. Sharon was going to be alright, and Courtney had…what? Courtney had forgiven her? Courtney liked her again? Courtney wanted to be more than her friend? She didn’t know, but she got the feeling that whatever it was was positive.

Willam wondered whether or not to wake her up but Courtney quickly solved that problem as her arm reached out to grab Willam by the waist and pull her closer, Courtney nuzzling into her side sleepily.

“Hey,” she murmured through a yawn, kissing Willam’s skin and making her feel as if she was 19 years old with a melting, gooey heart all over again.

“G’morning,” Willam smiled, rubbing her eyes then remembering she hadn’t taken off any of her makeup from the night before. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm. Always sleep like a baby after sex, I think it’s some weird nympho-narcoleptic thing I need to see a doctor about.”

Willam’s heart hammered in her chest and instantly woke her up more. “So we’re just coming out and addressing that that happened immediately?”

Courtney hurriedly sat up in bed and looked her in the eye, exasperation on her face. She’d foregone pulling the duvet up to cover herself and her boobs were fully out. “Uh, we’re both stark bollock naked, dipshit. How much more addressing of the situation could there be?”

“Yeah I know, fuckhead!” Willam snapped, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “I just don’t…I don’t know what this means now? Like what are we?”

Courtney half-laughed, half-sighed then pulled a pillow over her face and yelled into it. “Fuck! I don’t know, Willam, okay?”

Willam was smiling, but she simultaneously felt as if she was hanging by a thread. She watched as Courtney pulled the pillow off her face then rolled over and pulled her close.

“Cards on the table, I really fucking like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I care about you, and I want to see you do well, and I like us when we’re together. We just work, we fit. We squabble at times, but it’s never malicious. But this job…it’s a bitch, and I don’t want us ending up having to hide away or have our lives ruined by it like Sharon and Alaska. So I don’t…” Courtney sighed. Willam could see her pulse thudding rapidly under her skin by her wrist. “I don’t want to label us just now. I’m scared to. But can we just…can we at least be exclusive? Because I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Willam smiled and rolled her eyes. “As if I’d fucking want anyone else.”

Courtney nuzzled her head into Willam’s side, and Willam cast her eyes to the sun coming in through the blinds. She blinked quickly three times. “No, that sounds good. Exclusive but with no labels. I can do that. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“For what?” Courtney kissed Willam’s temple.

“For being a cunt to you.”

“You were a cunt to me?” Courtney pulled away, frowning. “Now that doesn’t sound like Willam Belli at all.”

Willam took that as a yes.

“No more games,” Courtney said quietly, gently stroking the palm of Willam’s hand with her finger.

“No more games,” Willam agreed.

It was 2 o’clock by the time they got back to the hospital to see Sharon, after they’d showered, dressed (Willam borrowing Courtney’s clothes again), had some breakfast and got the two tubes over. It was an unspoken plan- they hadn’t talked about whether they should stay at the flat, or go visit Sharon, or even go into work. There was only one place they really needed to be today. They’d talked and chatted and laughed just as they used to, but without any awkward tension and with extra added hand holding and light knuckle and cheek kisses. They’d wondered out loud whether it had been in poor taste to fuck within the 24 hours that they’d found out Sharon had been hit by a car, before deciding that it was probably what Sharon would have wanted and endorsed anyway.

When they arrived at Sharon’s ward, it was as if nothing had changed at all- Alaska seemingly hadn’t moved from her seat and was still sitting in it facing Sharon in her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas, while the other woman was still in bed but was propped up with pillows and had her oxygen mask on. She had a loving, dreamy look on her face and seemed to be listening to Alaska talk when Courtney and Willam arrived. Alaska turned around excitedly when they came in.

“Morning,” Willam smiled, moving to hug Alaska tightly and then Sharon markedly less so, in case Willam accidentally pulled a wire out. “Or afternoon, or whatever the fuck time it is.”

“Hey,” Sharon took her mask off and smiled gently.

“How are you feeling, Sharon?” Courtney asked as she took her turn to hug her.

“I’m holding up okay. I had a big sleep when you two left, woke up at like 9. Then me and Alaska had a massive chat which took about an hour and exhausted me, so I had a nap again. Woke up about an hour ago and Alaska had stuck on the news. It’s weird seeing myself on the news in a capacity which isn’t politics. I’m not in the mood for a lot of talking so Alaska’s just been telling me about her leadership campaign,” Sharon gestured to Alaska’s happy, excited face and smiled fondly. “Christ, she looks like she’s about to explode. I fucking love this girl so much.”

Willam made a vomiting sound as she pulled up a chair beside Alaska. “Gross. So your big chat. Did you both grow up and say sorry to each other?”

Willam saw Alaska squeeze Sharon’s hand. “Of course we fucking did. That was the first thing we said. Then we basically just cried and talked about how much we loved each other for the next 59 minutes.”

Courtney laughed, and Alaska gave a small giggle then shook her head as she looked at Sharon. “No, joking. Well, we did do that. But we also spoke about career stuff- what we wanted in the next five years, what we need to do to get there.”

“It’s doable for what we both want. We just need to support each other, make it two sided and communicate. I know that now,” Sharon piped up, smiling at Alaska as if it was for her benefit and not Courtney and Willam’s.

“Well, I’m glad you two have made up,” Courtney smiled softly, moving to perch on Willam’s knee in the absence of a chair. Willam pulled her close. She didn’t miss the look that passed between Alaska and Sharon.

“Um, on the topic of making up…” Alaska raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at them both. “…what is this?”

“Courtney sitting on my lap?” Willam said sarcastically, resting her head on Courtney’s back.

“Yes…” Sharon said, waving a tubed-up hand to prompt more. “So…?”

“So…what?” Courtney asked, just as deadpan as Willam had been, and she loved her for it.

“Oh fuck, put a dying woman out of her misery!” Sharon coughed out in exasperation, earning her a furious look and a gentle smack from Alaska.

“DON’T joke about that!” she glared at her for all of two seconds, before she took her hand and turned back to Courtney and Willam. “But seriously guys, Sharon’s only got one properly working lung, can you just give us the information that we both already know but want to scream like babies at when it comes from you?”

Courtney turned and looked at Willam, suddenly embarrassed. Willam gave her a squeeze and spoke for her. “Well, we’re going to disappoint you, because we’re not girlfriends. We can’t all fall in love with our work friends and go balls-deep into a relationship. But no, we’re just…”

“We like each other, and we’re exclusive, and we’re going to take it a day at a time,” Courtney finished, Alaska giving a small, excited squeal. Sharon smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Bo-ring! I want to know if you’ve banged yet.”

“Yeah, we did,” Courtney shrugged, Willam completely shocked at her blasé display of honesty but also too tired to care much. Sharon let out a loud cheer, then immediately started coughing violently in a sobering display that reminded the girls why they were all together in the first place. Seeing Alaska’s concerned face, Sharon frowned.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” she wheezed, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Just coughing up pieces of old lung, they say the new one should grow back within 3-5 working days.”

Alaska snorted. Willam laughed and shook her head. “You’re so fucking unfunny it hurts.”

Sharon shrugged. “Blame the pain meds, I’ve been popping them like Smints.”

They chatted quietly after that, the four of them just enjoying each other’s’ company without having to talk about work or politics or anything like that. Often Alaska would talk for Sharon, the other woman wearing her oxygen mask and resting. Alaska had phoned Jinkx and texted the comms girls to fill them in on what had happened, after they all basically woke up, saw the headlines and immediately fired off about fifty texts to Alaska, Courtney and Willam (none of which Willam saw, her phone having long since died.). Sharon was annoyed that Jinkx wouldn’t honour her request to bring in her work laptop so she could work from her hospital bed, a request which all three advisors were glad she’d shut down. They were all going to pop in at some point in the evening to visit, Adore and Katya promising to bring what they’d termed as “huge, inconvenient, inflatable balloons”. Willam had told Sharon about the Phi Phi incident, Sharon rolling her eyes almost to the back of her head but refusing to allow herself to get worked up over it.

“That’s a point, actually,” she said, sitting up in bed and wincing slightly at some unseen pain. “Didn’t you say Bianca would be visiting me soon? She’s not been in.”

“Well, she still has to oversee all the other departments. Maybe something’s happened with them?” Courtney offered, Sharon shrugging and conceding.

Around ten minutes later, they had their answer. Bianca came in to Sharon’s room dressed in her usual work attire, ironically all in black. Her face was serious but she had a small, kind smile, and was holding a box of Guiylan pralines.

“Christ, Bianca, I’ve not died,” Sharon laughed by way of a greeting, as Bianca cracked a rare, genuine smile and handed her the chocolates.

“Shut it. Some of us still have to go to work. How are you?”

“Sore.”

“That’s crap, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t swing by earlier. I’ve been at Number 10, I’ve been with the police, I’ve been into Dosac. This might be a bit of good news for you,” she said, addressing the room this time. “The police have apprehended a guy. Old woman who lives in the area had CCTV outside her flat. She came forward with footage of a car going well beyond the speed limit. Matches the time that the whole thing happened. They were able to get a number plate from it and traced it back to the fucker.”

Willam was in shock. She had no idea it would all happen so quickly. Looking at Bianca closely, she could see how puffy her eyes were and how her dark circles had been concealed with foundation, and how much her hands were shaking. It hit her how hard Bianca must have been working to help the police catch whoever had done this to Sharon.

“Thank you, Bianca,” she said, her voice coming out way more emotional than she’d meant it to. Bianca turned to her in surprise, as if she was taken aback slightly.

“Well, I mean, don’t thank me. The police did all the work. They’ll be in to question you, Sharon, but once you’re feeling a bit better. Maybe this evening, or tomorrow.”

“Oh, great. Reliving the moment a car hit me in all its horrifying detail, with the greatest hits of poison pen letters as a follow-up. All my fucky stars have come at once,” Sharon said. Her breathing was becoming laboured, so she put her oxygen mask back on.

“Just keep the damn thing on, you’ve had it off and on like a fucking lightswitch the entire time you’ve been awake,” Alaska chastised her, tucking the hospital blanket in around Sharon. “I’ll maybe see if there’s some way Jinkx can bring in your duvet.”

“You could always go get it for her,” Courtney suggested, Alaska laughing at the ridiculous suggestion.

“Yeah, good one Court, like I’m going to leave her side until she’s discharged.”

Bianca watched the whole exchange carefully, then opened her mouth. “So I take it…that you’re back together.”

Alaska looked at Sharon and nodded.

“You understand that I’m absolutely livid at the pair of you for ever beginning this in the first place and that if it had even got into the media you would have been out of a job?” Bianca said, pointing to Alaska. Alaska blinked and gave a small shrug.

“She would have been worth it,” she said, Willam noticing how Sharon squeezed Alaska’s hand. Bianca fake-gagged.

“Yes, well, in any case, I’m hearing you’ve got plans to stand in the by-election? Is that still happening?” Bianca asked. “Because if it is, then it would make my life a lot easier. There’s not nearly as many implications. In fact you could probably put you two into the public eye. Might be good for the party.”

Sharon wheezed a laugh and Alaska suppressed a smile. “God. Our relationship is literally politically correct. But yeah, I am standing. It’d be good to get some tips from you about that, actually.”

Bianca checked her phone as she spoke. “You don’t need tips. I’ll get you the support you need. Might as well start considering yourself an MP.”

Alaska smiled happily, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face and kissing it in excitement.

“Although that does mean a position opening up at Dosac. Got anyone in mind, Sharon?”

Sharon sighed exasperatedly, ripping off her mask and gesturing to all her tubes and wires. “Funnily enough, no, I’ve been too busy being a human fucking colander!”

Willam smiled at Sharon knowingly. “I’ve got someone in mind. She’s young, and a bit fucking useless at the moment, but we could train her up. She’s got potential.”

“Well, that seems sorted,” Bianca shrugged. “Right, I’m going to have to make tracks. Flying visit. One of Trinity Taylor’s one night stands has gone to Closer magazine and we can’t risk that getting into the press. But take care, okay?”

Sharon waved a hand. “Thank you, Bianca.”

“No problem. See you later. Willam, can I borrow you for a second?”

Willam’s heart sank as she followed Bianca out of the room. She knew that Bianca was going to ask her if she had anything on Phi Phi. She knew that the photos were still in her phone, burning a hole in her pocket. She knew that Courtney didn’t want her to take the job at Number 10. She knew that her and Courtney weren’t at all official yet.

What she didn’t know was what she was going to do.

They stood at the side of the corridor beside the glass outside Sharon’s room, doctors and nurses hurrying past and completely oblivious to Willam about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life.

“So,” Bianca opened. “If you’ve got anything for me, now is the time to say, because the right-wing media are starting to lap up Phi Phi’s bullshit pretty fucking quickly. It would take a lot of the heat off Sharon if we could just…bury her.”

Willam felt pained. She had completely forgotten about the implications this would have for Sharon.

“So anything at all would be a saving grace,” Bianca finished, looking Willam in the eye and almost triggering a fight or flight response in her.

What would Courtney want her to do? What would Bianca want her to do?

What would Sharon want her to do?

“Um,” Willam swallowed. Her throat was completely dry. “You know, it’s been a rough 24 hours…I haven’t really managed to find anything.” Bianca looked visibly disappointed. “Sorry, Bianca.”

The other woman nodded understandingly. “That’s okay. It has been a rough time. Thank you for looking after her, Willam.”

Willam gave a small smile and without knowing what possessed her, she was speaking again. “Also, Bianca…take me out of the running for the Number 10 job.”

This was the first time Willam had ever seen Bianca look legitimately shocked in her life. Bianca always knew what was going on, she was always so plugged in and in the loop, there was so rarely anything that she didn’t know. So this information was clearly a bombshell. “I mean. I can, but I would also be asking why in the fuck would you want me to do that?”

Willam sighed. “I’m still young. There’ll be other chances to work there and besides, there’s other stuff I want to focus on right now. There’s more to life than politics, I guess.”

Bianca gave a harsh laugh. “Life is politics, Willam.”

“Your life, maybe.”

“Yeah, well,” Bianca exhaled. She had a faraway look in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

Willam suddenly heard Courtney laugh through the glass and she involuntarily smiled. She looked back at Bianca, who was looking through the glass.

“Is this because of her?”

Willam looked back at the glass, then cocked her head. “Sort of. It’s for me first, and her second. People spend so much of their lives wishing for better, focusing so much on the future or on the past. Like…what’s wrong with what we have now? You know? Appreciate what you’ve got. Change is good. Except if it’s not. I don’t know, fuck, I’m so tired.”

Bianca nodded slowly, a tiny frown still present on her face. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Honestly, no,” Willam laughed. “But I’m sure I want things to stay as they are, for now. There’s going to be so much change in Dosac. It would be nice for me to stay a constant.”

Bianca gave a small sigh. “Well, I won’t say I’m not disappointed. But good for you, Willam.”

Willam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll see you, Bianca.”

“See you, Willam.”

As Bianca walked away, Willam thought it was the first time she’d ever seen her look genuinely gutted. It made her feel slightly proud of herself, though she had no idea why. Watching her until she was out of sight, Willam turned back and went back into Sharon’s room.

“Back,” she said. Sharon looked up at her, puzzled.

“What was that all about?” she frowned.

“Wanted to know if I had anything we could use on Phi Phi.”

“And did you?”

Willam looked at Courtney, who seemed frozen. She paused. “No. No, of course I didn’t. Been too busy making sure your dumb fucking roadkill ass is okay, haven’t I?”

As Sharon and Alaska laughed, Willam watched as Courtney’s face lit up. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Willam, I’ve been meaning to say. Thank you. For phoning the ambulance,” Sharon said, suddenly serious. Her voice was quiet and her face grave.

Willam reached out and touched her leg lightly. “That’s what best friends do.”

Sharon smiled in gratitude, then gave a yawn. “Sorry to be boring, but I think I need to sleep again.”

“Well, we’ll leave,” Courtney smiled, her voice gentle. “I kind of want to go for a walk round the park. It’s such a nice day. You fancy joining us, Lask?”

Willam barely had time to bask in the use of “us” before Alaska rolled her eyes.

“What part of I’m-not-leaving-Sharon’s-side do you not understand? Go,” she smirked, looking at Willam and Courtney hand in hand. “Be cute and gross.”

Willam smiled at Courtney sheepishly, and Courtney smiled back. She turned back to the other couple in the room. “We’ll be back around dinnertime. Want us to bring you anything?”

“Ugh, a Wasabi please. Lunch was mush, with mashed mush, on a bed of mush. It’s enough to turn me vegetarian,” Sharon shook her head before laying down on her pillow and closing her eyes. “Thanks for coming in. See you later, guys.”

“See you both,” Courtney smied, waving at Alaska as she opened the door and Willam following behind her. Once they were out the room, they had taken a few steps down the corridor before Courtney spoke again. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Willam said as she pressed the button for the lift. She wondered if she should say any more, but thanks was enough, and she decided to leave it. “So. Park then home, then back to see Sharon?”

“Home,” Courtney gave a little smile as she looked at Willam. “Home sounds nice.”

And as the lift doors closed leaving them both sealed up together going down towards the bright Spring day outside, Willam had to agree.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, and in April, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December and April. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Firstly, Courtney was out of bed before her, and Willam could hear her battering and clanging around in their kitchen together (their kitchen, Willam thought fondly to herself, it would never get old to say their like that). Second, Willam didn’t have any inner turmoil or panicked thoughts or insecurities running around her mind. She was peaceful and calm, and life was good. Sure, Sharon had a fucker of a TV debate coming up the next day, and Willam was afraid that her ribs might re-break at the sheer force with which she was going to shout at Phi Phi O’Hara, but apart from that everything was all just fine. She hadn’t felt this calm in forever. In fact, no, that was a lie. She’d woken up feeling this calm every single day for the past two months since the day she and Courtney walked out of that lift together. Sure, there were one or two blips- the day she’d asked Courtney to be her girlfriend she had woken up completely convinced she was having a heart attack- but that aside, she’d never felt this content.

“Bill!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Put it on!”

Willam sat up, groaned, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. “What channel?”

A frustrated sigh. “It’s Sunday fucking Politics, you know what channel!!”

Laughing, Willam fumbled for the remote on her bedside table, in danger of knocking over many half-empty cups of coffee, and switched the TV on. She hadn’t needed to find the channel as the TV immediately showed her what they were both looking for- Alaska Thunder, MP for West Central London, the first MP to take the seat from Phi Phi O’Hara’s party in 12 years, in her biggest TV interview so far.

“Court, it’s started!” Willam shouted through, hearing a thunder of footsteps in response. Soon enough her girlfriend, her beautiful, tiny, blonde koala girlfriend, emerged from the hallway in her huge flannel Snoopy pyjamas holding two cups of coffee.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she was saying, reaching over and almost spilling half the coffee on the bright white bedsheets as she half-handed, half-threw it to Willam. “I said to you it bloody started at 5 past 10, and you took the piss out of me!”

“No I fucking didn’t!” Willam cried incredulously, laughing.

“Yes you so did! Meh Courtney, why would a programme start at five past ten that’s such an awkward time, meh meh meh why do you think it’s going to start then, is it because of the time delay? Is it because you’re Australian? Mehhh,” Courtney imitated Willam. Willam went to retort but was immediately shushed by her girlfriend.

“Shut up! I don’t want to miss any more.”

Raja Gemini was asking Alaska a question, and she had her don’t-fuck-with-me face on. “Alaska Thunder, what I’d most like to know is- why were you so strongly in favour of the incarceration of young offenders until last week, when your fiancé Sharon Needles came out in support of rehabilitation? Is this what we can expect from you as an MP, to simply agree with everything your fiancé says?”

“That bitch.”

“Shut up!”

Alaska’s face was calm and amused. “No not at all, Raja, see my change of heart was based on a consultation I had with the Minister for Justice Sasha Coulee-Velour, where she actually presented me with lots of facts and figures as to why rehabilitation produces better results and contributes to a reduction of repeat offenders in society. I then conducted a focus group who pretty much agreed with the Minister, so I have decided to back what is clearly the more well-researched opinion.”

“But isn’t it true that Sharon Needles has held no such focus groups and has point-blank refused to listen to any opposing opinion on the other side? How must that translate to the public?”

Alaska smirked and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, Raja. If you wanted to ask that question you should have invited her onto your show. You asked for me, you’ve got me, and now you’re asking me about my fiancé? Is this Hello magazine or Sunday Politics?”

Courtney threw her hands up in the air and cheered. “Finish her, Lask!”

Just then, Willam’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Sharon. Willam knew she had taken the morning off to go into the studio and watch Alaska do the interview and was probably hiding behind the cameramen as Alaska and Raja spoke.

S: i say, that’s my baby and i’m really proud

Willam snorted, holding her phone up to show Courtney who laughed in response.

“Fucking hell, who keeps introducing her to memes?” she sighed, pouting as she looked to the TV and saw the interview was coming to a close. “Oh fuck, we missed pretty much the whole thing!”

Willam pulled her into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. We saw the best bit. There’ll be more interviews where that came from. I think Alaska’s making quite the splash.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Courtney smiled, sipping her coffee then sliding off the bed. “What’s our plan for today? We’re meeting Katya and Trixie for lunch, then Adore’s joining for drinks. She said she might bring her girlfriend along!”

“Oh, Aja?” Willam asked, scrolling her phone lazily. “That’s good, she seems nice.”

“Well, I’m going to shower if you need in before me?” Courtney offered, unhooking her towel from the back of their bedroom door.

“Nah, no need. I always just piss in your charcoal water. You’d never taste the difference,” Willam deadpanned, smiling as she watched Courtney laugh and throw a makeup sponge at her from the door.

Courtney was so beautiful, even in her old pyjamas and with her hair hanging messily over her shoulders. Her smile did something to Willam, something she’d never felt before and never wanted to stop feeling ever again. What was the something? Suddenly, it was as if Willam had been struck by a lightning bolt. She knew, but she couldn’t possibly tell her. Not today and not now. It was far too soon, surely?

Then a little voice in her head whispered to her. No more games.

Willam’s voice stopped her just as she was about to leave the room.

“Hey, Courtney?”

#just the game we're in #ortega #australia #crossover #witney #shalaska #twmentionsofinjury #willam belli #courtney act #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #bianca del rio #rpdr fanfiction #jtgwi

[satiah81]

The Thing That Should Not Be - Chapters 1-22

This is a reblog of my work originally posted on Archive of our own. Feel free to like, reblog and leave comments. Unfinished, work in progress with (bi-) weekly updates.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield X OFC

Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, adult themes, non-con

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982820?view_full_work=true

Summary: I`d never liked my life in the bustling city, superficial, gray and lonely, as it was. Yet what I found in the new world was far beyond words. Dark and passionate. Cruel and scary. What Thorin taught me about his reality I would remember forever.

WARNINGS! If you are not comfortable with rape/sexual slavery/angst topics, then this story is not for you. It is a dark and intense fantasy.

Chapter 1

The water was deep and cold, black as the darkest night. It froze my senses, intoxicating me with sharp pain, biting in my limbs. I tried to scream but was silenced by the pressure and ice-cold fear that crept in my heart. I was being dragged further down to the depths. I kicked and managed to get rid of the handbag on my shoulder and moved closer to the surface in desperate need of oxygen.

Then I sensed subtle change in the atmosphere as a ray of pale light emanatied from far below. It was there for a split second and all went back to normal. I finally emerged on the surface and took in my first breath, gasping.

The lake was large and its waters dark, on one edge covered with thick mist of early autumn. I swam to the nearest bank and totally exhausted spread on the grass. It was early morning and I could sense bright sun hidden behind the white wall of clouds.

Where was the yacht gone? I blinked in surprise and searched the water for any sign of movement, familiar object, or any sound. The silence was deafening.

When I came to my senses, I decided to search the bank systematically. If the yacht sank, there must be some wreckage left, broken pieces of wood or… bodies. The storm had come out of nowhere, I remembered blinding lightning and scared faces. Then all went wet and cold and I was fighting for breath suddenly.

Nothing. I inhaled deeply. Perhaps they have left without me.

I remembered there was a river flowing into the lake. I followed its stream in the direction from which I remembered our yacht had sailed. After half-an-hour walk I finally realized they could not have possibly sailed away so fast.

Something was very wrong here. The trees looked unfamiliar. The landscape felt different but I could not put my finger on why. Fear and distant, hazy thought that something strange and perhaps unnatural had happened crept at the back of my mind.

I sat down by a tree and thought for an hour, waiting. Then I returned to the lake and roamed its surroundings for the rest of the morning. I ate some berries and drank a few sips of water from the lake which I had already started to hate. I waited. They must come back for me with a rescue party and dogs, that's how it's normally done, right?

As the night drew near, hunger squeezed my stomach even more and I ate all the berries I could possibly find. That will have to do for tonight. Tomorrow I would eat properly.

With sunken heart I found a hidden place among bushes and trees, shielded but still with good view of the lake. The ground was covered with dry moss, its smell reassuring. I laid my head on it and started to cry.

Of course I could not sleep. My white party dress was still uncomfortably wet but I dared not take it off. What if they come for me? I can't afford to lose time dressing up. But the night was surprisingly warm and except for some night creatures` noises in the distance nothing stirred it. I slept for about three hours.

xxx

When I woke up in the morning, it was crystal-clear that no one would come to take me home.

I threw away my only high-heeled shoe and barefoot set off for a journey to nowhere.

I followed the river down its flow. There are always towns and villages nearby, that's how we were taught at school. Remember? No matter what, always follow the water. By the position of the sun I roughly estimated I was heading south. The country slightly changed, now I was walking in vast lowlands covered with dry grass and scattered rocks. Still no sign of civilization. I did not remember this land. I was getting terribly hungry and my bare feet hurt. I desperately yearned to return to the bustling city I had hated all my life, with all its concrete, steel and glass and crowds of nameless faces; the chaotic traffic and the ever-present smog and noise. Even the job in a telecommunications company. Fuck them and their forced team-buildings! Fuck their yacht!

But there was only the silence and forces of nature. I was alone, unarmed, with no supplies, tottering on by the sheer power of will. I was very tired. If I died here perhaps I would not lose that much. No one would miss me.

Chapter 2

 The next day started in the same way, with no changes in the landscape, no sign of a town whatsoever, not even a road! I slept very little last night and was even more hungry, my feet now bloodied with little wounds and scratches. Exhausted, I lay down in the shade of a large rock and drifted in a dreamless sleep. It was late morning.

 And then something stirred at the back of my mind. Wake up, something is wrong!

 I blinked and shielded my eyes, half-blinded by the sun. Sleepily I sat up to see something that made my eyes widen in shock.

 I saw a group of the strangest creatures, not more than five, foul and hideous, approaching me at great speed. Dressed in animal skins and coarse metal plates, armed with primitive - but still! - metal hooks and maces, their faces not at all human. I could smell their sharp odour even from where I was sitting.

 Am I dreaming?

 I stood up clumsily, prepared to run, but the fastest one was already there and grabbed me by my arm fiercely. I screamed and cried out: “Stop it! What do you want from me?!” But he did not seem to understand. I kicked him and fought desperately  but it only made them all laugh. He asked his fellows something in a sharp, coarse tongue and seemed to be satisfied with their answer. Suddenly he yanked me by my hair and made me fall on my knees. I cried out in pain. He unsheathed his primitive sword and pressed its tip to my throat. I felt it pierce my skin to drive a few drops of blood. Then the blade moved down to the neckline of my dress, agonizingly slowly. He held it with one hand and with the other one all of a sudden cut the thin cloth in one long, swift movement. I stared down at my nakedness in shock. A thin red scratch was crossing my stomach. I stood up and attacked him with all my remaining strength, kicking and biting where I managed to reach. They just laughed. Then I felt sharp pain on my left thigh and collapsed to the ground. This time he cut me very deep. I could not run away now.

 Then he removed my panties and sank down on me with his full weight. He stank of fish and his rotten teeth made my stomach rise in disgust. With one strong movement he entered me and I cried out in sharp pain, tears of desperation filling my eyes.

 Then something happened.

 Out of nowhere a man sprang out, armed with a large silvery sword, and with battlecry on his lips sank the sword into my enemy's throat. Its tip stopped a few centimetres above mine. His blood splashed on my face and started to pour down on my chest wildly. Wide-eyed, he struggled to get off me and in that attempt smashed me in the head. All went blank for a split second and then I saw the silver blade once again and the creature's head flew away. The body collapsed on me, its weight holding me down once again.

 The man shouted something towards me, something I could hardly understand, and turned to the others.

 What happened next came like a strange end to a nightmare. I saw him move around swiftly, cutting off arms and piercing bodies. He occasionally cried out in effort but seemed to be a skilled warrior. The creatures were a little match to him. His blue cloak lined with fur moved around swiftly along with his dark long hair.

 When the last enemy fell, he stood still and panting turned around to take in the situation - he searched the corpses around him and surroundings for any sign of movement.

 Finally his gaze stopped on me, lying helpless on the ground.

 He walked towards me, his right hand still holding the sword, prepared for anything, his face expressionless. He grabbed the corpse's arm and seemingly effortlessly rolled it over and away from me.

 I stared down at me in shock. The only piece of garment to cover my nakedness was my once-white luxury bra, now covered with crimson blood. My decollete and belly were all sticky with the red liquid, out of which a few streams found their way down to my bare thighs and womanhood.

 I made a frail attempt to cover myself and keep whatever dignity remained.

 His steady gaze moved slowly across my body, from the bruises on my face, down to my belly and lingered on my shaking hands which tried to cover my secret places.

 He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead turned his head away. From behind the rocks the wind brought in men`s shouts and sounds of hooves on the rocky ground.

 He shouted in that direction in strong, commanding voice: “Stay where you are, all of you! Don't come here until I summon you!” It sounded like a mixture of old Norse and English, difficult to comprehend, yet still I understood.

 And with that he kneeled beside me and asked matter-of-factly: “Are you hurt anywhere else?” and gestured towards the deep cut on my thigh.

 “I… don't know.” I whispered and looked around, disorientation and shock taking their grasp of me now that it was over.

 He took off his cloak and without a single word wrapped me in it, fastening it on my right shoulder with a buckle. My right hand was free but the left one stayed hidden under the cloth. He rolled the cloak up to reveal my thigh which was bleeding heavily. He examined the wound, his face that of perfect calmness, its expression impenetrable, his blue eyes ice-cold lakes. It felt very right though, under these circumstances.

 He reached for my party dress which lay cut in two beside me and before pressing it to my wound, studied it briefly. I hissed in pain.

 “Who are you?” he shot.

 “I got lost…” I whispered out of my breath.

 “Where is your village? Who do you travel with?”

 “My village?” I blinked. “There is no village, we came yachting on the lake but then the storm came and I'm alone here now… I don't know what happened… How I got here… Why do you all carry swords? Where am I now?” I asked puzzled.

 “Out of the lake…” he spoke for himself and then his face hardened.

 “Dwalin! All, you may come!” he shouted towards the rock that shielded us.

 There came hurried steps and surprised cries before I could actually see my saviour`s companions. What strange beings they were, short of stature, with ridiculous hair and beards and clad in the oddest garments which could only be seen in living history spectacles. They surrounded us and one of them, a grey-haired one, kneeled beside me in surprise while the others left to search the vicinity for any signs of other enemies. He raced off behind the rock only to reappear with a skin filled with transparent liquid that he poured on my wound. I hissed and a few tears escaped my eyes. I wiped them away with my one free hand. Then he forced a few tablespoons down my throat. He then bound my leg tightly with my dress to which appearance he paid no attention whatsoever.

 “I cannot do more here, the wound needs proper sewing. She is losing blood.” He turned towards my saviour as if to ask for his approval.

 The latter, while my wound was being tended to, wiped his sword clean and sheathed it. Now he was sitting a few metres away from us on a dead tree trunk, deep in thoughts, his eyes studying me. Now and then they turned towards the direction from which I had come.

 He nodded slowly. There was certain gracefulness to it.

 “Do not fear lass, you will be safe and sound with us,” smiled the grey-haired one to me as he tried to comfort me.

 Their leader, for he surely was one, stood up and asked simply:

 “Can you walk?”

 Frowning, I struggled to my feet and made one weak step. But my sore feet betrayed me, and I would have fallen to the ground, had the grey-haired one not caught me. I clenched my teeth.

 Their leader walked towards me and without a warning lifted me in the air.

 “Put your arm around my neck,” he commanded. I did so and he carried me quite some distance towards their horses hidden behind the rocks.

 As soon as we reached them, he put me down. I immediately grabbed the nearest saddle to steady myself. The animal, tall and graceful, glanced back at me in curiosity. How on earth am I supposed to ride a creature like that?

 My saviour reached for a bag hanging from the side of the horse and produced a skin bottle. He handed it over to me without a word. It was wine, strong and sweet. I drank a few sips and wanted to return it to him, but he shook his head in disapproval. I drank some more until he finally looked satisfied. God, I will get drunk within minutes if they continue forcing to me their mixed alcohol! Considering that I have eaten nearly nothing in the past three days. I passed the bottle to him and he tucked it back into the side bag. Then he placed his hands on my hips and lifted me up into the saddle, both of my legs to one side. Then he swiftly mounted the horse himself.

 I have never really ridden a horse and suddenly I found myself sitting on one. The height felt immense. I grabbed the horn with my right hand, the left one still covered by the cloak, and found it nearly impossible to hold stable in this position. The saddle was not a women`s one. As he positioned himself behind me, the horse moved slightly to the left and I gasped, trying desperately not to fall on my face. He placed both his hands in front and behind me and moved closer to reach for the reins. At that his long hair touched my face and I did my best not to look up at him and stay from his body as far as possible. We set off and my knuckles whitened with effort.

 “You will fall if you avoid me,” he said under his breath and pulled me to him so that I was leaning on his chest now. I stiffened for a while, but indeed it was much easier for me to maintain balance like this.

 We rode in silence for a good while, forming a fine line, the other three fellows before and after us. I could hear the horses` snorts and sound of hooves against the ground. The air was fresh and mild breeze started to blow. I risked a quick glance at him. He did not seem to notice.

 His ice-blue gaze remained fixed on the horizon, distant and impenetrable, his features regular, his bearded jaw determined. He wore leather armour, encrusted with delicate plates of metal where I could see and feel, and under it dark blue chemise. His long hair cascaded down from his shoulders in waves, as a dark mane shielding a lion. It occasionally touched me as he moved his head. I cautiously took in his scent; it reminded me of old leather and spices, deeply masculine.

 “Did he rape you?” he shot into the silence all of a sudden.

 “What?!” I froze, hoping I had overheard. My face blushed blood-red in a second.

 “Did the scum manage to rape you?” he whispered nearly inaudibly, just for my ears to hear. He looked down at me for a moment and continued to stare in front of him.

 “You can`t ask me such things... ” I breathed, my voice shaking. Tears filled my eyes and all of a sudden I started to tremble as flashbacks of that day reappeared in front of my eyes. I still felt the sharp pain between my legs, the one single goddamn thrust I would remember all my life. I felt filthy and deceived.

 He looked down at me again.

 “I have saved you, of course I have the right to know,” he informed me, pausing for a while. “Your secret is safe with me though. They do not know, and will not guess,” he gestured towards his fellow riders. “You have long enough to decide how much you tell the healer by the time we return to the camp.”

 He reached back for the side bag again and passed me the wine. I drank a few sips, unwillingly.

 “More!” he commanded and pressed it to my lips again.

 “Do you want me to get drunk?!” I protested weakly, pushing the bottle away.

 “Aye,” was his simple and honest answer.

 I drank some more and returned the bottle to him, nearly apologetically. “I don't like alcohol.”

 “Then you have not tasted any good vintage wine. We store some special sorts in our cellars. And mead and strong beer,” he changed the subject.

 But the damage was done, I already started to shake uncontrollably, shock of past events taking over what was left of my self-control. I cried bitterly, the wine surely helping my emotions to flow freely.

 He made no attempt to hush me. We rode in uttermost silence for an eternity, I lost in my grief and he in his thoughts… perhaps. But the horse strode at regular pace and I cried long enough to exhaust myself.

 “What is your name?” he interrogated finally.

 “Kate Evans.”

 “Kate Evans, where have you come from?”

 “Rather tell me where we are now.”

 “Certainly in eastern Rhovanion, by the Running River.”

 I shook my head in disbelief. None of this made sense.

 “This must be some nightmare.”

 “It is what you make of it.”

 And that was it. I was too tired to think any further, so I just asked:

 “What was your name again?”

 “Thorin.”

Chapter 3

I spent the rest of the journey half-awake, not really caring where they were taking me. But when I saw the red tents of a war camp in the distance, I was alert immediately. Right in front of us sprang out from the depths of the earth hundreds of tents, of natural and red colours, with banners and flags proudly erected, floating in the breeze. And war carriages, horses and rams, and soldiers, countless heads clad in heavy armour, very short, dwarf-like. They carried numerous kinds of weapons - mostly axes and spears - some practising their art of war, some sitting and eating, some resting on the grass doing nothing. But they all greeted us as our small company entered their lines, bowing their heads in salutation.

We stopped in front of the largest tent right in the centre of the camp. It was decorated with intricate patterns with symbolic meaning, as I guessed, and a pair of guards stood in front of its entrance. But what guards they were! Very tall, slender in their golden armour, with pointed ears and skin pale as if they had never seen the sun.

Thorin dismounted the horse, and to my astonishment, one of the guards reached out and carried me into the tent without being told to. His skin had a strange, opalesque tone to it, his features delicate as if carved from the rarest marble, adding to the unearthly ambiance around him. As he moved, he seemed to dance in the air with me in his arms.

The tent`s furnishing was very simple, with a few chairs, a large table with maps spread all over it, a massive wooden chest and a portable bed to the side of it. Effortlessly the guard carried me to the bed and laid me down on the furs. He bowed elegantly and returned to his post at the entrance. I heard Thorin order someone to bring in the healer and prepare some warm water and clean clothes. Then all went silent and I was left alone. I breathed out and sank into the furs. They felt unbelievably comfortable after the three days out in the wild!

Shortly thereafter I heard the guards salute to someone and a tall being of the same race was ushered. He wore beautiful silken robe, decorated with yellow and silvery ornaments, his long light hair secured in a simple yet utterly elegant hairstyle. He smiled at me and lowered his head in a warm greeting.

“My lady, I shall tend to your wounds now, if you allow me. My name is Amarth,” and with that he opened a wooden chest he had brought with him.

“I`m Kate. Thank you,” I replied and uncovered my bandaged thigh.

“The wound is deep and bleeds a lot. It will require immediate sewing. But you will walk after it is healed,” he encouraged me upon checking it. He then cleaned it and before the actual surgery reached out to touch my temples. He looked deeply in my eyes and my head started to swim. “You will feel no pain,” he said, and I did not, much to my surprise. But I did not have the guts to watch him work. I rather studied the room, concentrating on the sounds coming from the outside, until he was finished. He then tended to the cut on my stomach, little bruises and scratches on my feet and washed my face gently. Looking at the stained washing basin I realized how much blood I wore smeared all over my face! Then he washed my hands and arms and suggested that I clean the rest myself. He explained there were no other women in this camp to take care of me. He turned his back to me and sat at the end of the bed as I reached for the cloth.

“Are there any other wounds to be tended to?” he asked finally.

I hesitated for a moment. “No.”

“Are you sure, my lady? Deep in my heart I feel that you are hurting in other ways.”

“I am sure there are no other wounds,” I confirmed. What else could I say?

He replied nothing but I felt he did not quite believe me. I have just finished the hygiene and put on a clean men’s tunic that had been brought in for me, so he turned back to me, and to my great dismay, reached out to hold both his hands directly above my womb. I stiffened in a sudden strike of panic, but he did not touch me. I felt immense heat emanating from his palms and the pain between my legs started to ease until it finally disappeared. Then he placed his hands above my heart and made a small grimace of dissatisfaction.

“I have healed your body, my lady. The rest you will have to heal yourself.”

And with those words he left.

Chapter 4

I just realized that my dwarves as I describe them in this story are considerably tall, more or less of human height, just much more robust. I kind of can`t imagine looking down at Thorin or any other warrior! :) BUT you can imagine them as suits you.

Enjoy!

                     A few minutes after that they brought to me some soup to eat, with a few slices of bread. It tasted most delicious, especially in my state. And it was steaming hot, to finally warm me! Satisfied, I sank into the furs and let my eyes wander around the space. A dwarf-like, short man took the bowl away, only to return with a nice cup of strong herbal tea. I tasted some medicine in it, though.

”It will do you good,” he smiled, and backed away politely. The cloth in the entrance made a soft sound as he left.

I drifted in a shallow, disturbed sleep, though how long I slept, I did not know.

xxx

I opened my eyes to an early evening and stared in surprise at Thorin, seated on another bed on the opposite side of the tent. The table with the documents had been moved to make room for the new portable bed. Thorin had changed to a more comfortable, beige tunic, his dark hair sprinkled across his shoulders. An oil lamp to his side, the only source of light in the tent, cast dark shadows on his face. He looked dangerous.

“Amarth has done a good service to you. Your wounds will heal soon,” he spoke quietly, but sternly.

“Thank you… I want to thank you for all you…” I started slowly, my eyelids heavy from sleep and the calming medicine.

“Kate Evans, where have you come from?” he interrupted me all of a sudden, his gaze direct and penetrating.

I blinked. “I come from Norway, although my father is British. How I came here, I honestly don't know…” I paused, waiting for his reaction.

He raised his eyebrow. “That Norway. Where is that supposed to be?”

“It's a country in Europe, of course.”

“And that is?”

“A continent on Earth,” I replied in disbelief.

He stared at me, his fiery eyes growing even darker. “No more jests, Kate Evans! I want to hear the truth now!”

“But that is the truth!” I exclaimed, my voice rising shakily. “I honestly don't know! I don't know what happened to that wreck of a ship and where I am now! Where is this Rhovanion? I can't even check my GPS, I lost my cell in the damn water!” Now I was nearly yelling, tears in my eyes. “Who the hell were those creatures?” I collapsed onto the bed at the sudden pain which sprang from the cut on my belly.

Losing his temper, he grabbed a large parchment from the table and strode towards me. He tossed it on my bed and stood there towering, waiting for something. When I did not react, he pointed a finger to a lowland by a river, and I understood that was our location.

“Show me.”

I turned my eyes to the map once again. I realized I didn't recognize any of the rivers, towns or mountains. “I can't. This is not how Europe looks. Do you have a world map? A map depicting other continents?” I inquired, hoping I would finally persuade him that I was not a liar.

“Middle-Earth is the only continent on Arda as we know it now,” he replied gravely and took the parchment from my hands.

My heart sank. I did not try to wipe away the tears that quietly flew from my eyes now. I realized I could not tell him more about me and my… world. The thought struck me as a lightning. This must be some strange world, another world, another reality, perhaps even dimension! How else can you explain all that had happened?!

“This is a nightmare,” I sighed under my breath.

“Rest now,” he commanded and extinguished the oil lamp. Then he turned away and walked out of the tent. “Summon the generals!” I heard him growl to someone. As he rolled the cloth aside, the moonlight glistened on the golden helmet of one of the guards. It was the one who carried me in his arms earlier today.

I must have drifted in a heavy, dreamless sleep, for I did not wake up when Thorin returned. And I did not want to wake up at all, that was true.

  xxx

The early morning found me sound asleep. I awoke to the muffled voices in front of the tent and then Amarth walked in, gracious as always, wearing his splendid silken robes and on his lips the ever-present smile. The cloth shielding the entrance was pulled to one side and secured there to let in the pale sunlight. He lowered his head in a greeting and sat down by my side on the bed.

“My lady, will you allow me,” and he touched my forehead to check my temperature. “You look better today. How was your night?”

“I didn't sleep very well…”

“Certainly because of me. We had some heavy conversation last night,” came the deep grunting voice from the right. I turned my head to the direction from which I heard it coming. Thorin was lying on his bed, half sitting, half leaning on one arm, enjoying his breakfast. With his free hand he reached for some cheese from a plate laid in front of him.

“She was lucky enough to be able to speak, after all the spirits that had been forced unto her yesterday,” Amarth said very calmly, turning to Thorin, and I was not entirely sure if he meant it as a joke after all.

“It did its job,” Thorin nodded, satisfied.

“It surely did, your Majesty.”

What did he just say?! I inhaled sharply, my cheeks turning red in a second. Was I sharing a room with a king? And… did I shout at one just last night? I bit my lip and looked away, embarrassed. I could have guessed. By the way he spoke, moved and gave orders, and the air of authority which seemed to tame all defiance. But then again, I could have not. To introduce himself as king Thorin when we met each other would have sounded… out of place.

Amarth leaned in to examine the little scratches on my face and hands and then he showed to my leg. “Will you?”

I stared at him for a moment not understanding what he wanted me to do. “Oh.. yes,” He was either being so terribly polite or he did not want me to feel any kind of menace. Which I appreciated very much. I pulled away the fur to uncover my leg. He removed the bandage and started to cleanse the wound. The air filled with scent of herbs and fresh linen, mixing with dried blood. I watched him work. I felt grateful that someone cared for me in this horrid world, let it be a doctor caring for his patient.

“I will not have much time for this later,” he said while reaching for a clean bandage. “Not after the army returns.”

“Where are they going?”

“To war,” replied Thorin instead of him. He was towering in the entrance, already taking his leave, with his back to us. “We are at war.”

“When... are you leaving?” I breathed, unsure of my future once again.

“In one hour.”

“Then… good luck,” were the only words that came to my mind. What else could I say? Farewell and thank you if you don't return? I choked on the sentence but I think he kind of understood because he turned his head to me and nodded. Then he stepped out into the light.

 Chapter 5

We were left alone now. Amarth asked me to pull up my tunic so that he could examine the cut. I hesitated for a moment, remembering that I wore no panties now. So I pulled the furs up to my waist and did as he told me, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I felt ashamed because all his care reminded me painfully of all that had been done to me. I pressed my lips to a thin line when he smeared an ointment over the already forming scar.

“Do not worry, the wound will leave no marks. It will turn invisible in a few months,” he smiled reassuringly.

“I doubt there will be anyone to check,” I said bitterly but regretted it immediately because I said more than I wanted. “I wish I could return home.”

He finished what he was doing and looked me in the eyes for a long moment, as if searching for an answer.

“You have come from very far, indeed. Yet your journey back is impossible, I fear.” I gulped, but he continued. “This is a good world, you might grow to like it in time. Once this war against evil is over.”

And he spoke to me of Thorin's kingdom and this world, vast and strange as it was. Of the dwarves and the elves and other races that inhabited it, and of the hideous orcs and goblins who grew so wild and dangerous in recent years that war seemed inevitable to tame them. He told me how Thorin became the king after a long and exhausting battle which came to be known as the Battle of Five Armies, where his two descendants died. Victory was his, but he grew bitter and untrustful, darkness and rage poisoning his heart for ten long years. But then the orcs arose once again and chose to ride the neighbourhood, occasionally crossing the borders of the dwarven kingdom, killing and ransacking all the good that had remained. The last drop was a village burnt to the ground two weeks ago, just one-day ride from Erebor. That was when the decision was made to march against the orcs with full force, deep into the fields of wilderness. Elven king Thranduil sent his elite five hundred  warriors for help, among them the personal guard that I had had the chance to meet already. And Amarth along with them. Then Amarth came to the point where our paths crossed. Thorin was leading a scouting expedition with his most faithful ones, that was when they found me. And today the future would be decided.

I came to understand that this was a world on the level of European Middle Ages, full of danger and grief. I was terrified by its sheer rawness and the possibility that I could be killed or hurt at any given time for literally no reason. It was so very far from my peaceful home in the overcrowded city, dull but safe! I thought I would never get used to it. And I didn't want to think of what I would do after my wounds are healed, where I would go. I was devastated.

Chapter 6

It was long past midnight when I heard the army return, the shouts and cries preceding it. Thousands of victorious voices rising in wild joy and laughter.

Then came Thorin's voice, summoning the keepers of the camp to care for the wounded. “Balin! Call for Amarth and Oin! Keep the wounded here in the centre so that the healers can access them at any time. Gloin, prepare the generals' tent for those who need surgery. Count the dead and wounded and report to me immediately!” Soon fire-flames sprang up all around the camp, I could see the night lighten and shine. After an hour came the smell of mutton being roasted and the voices started to slowly calm down.

The curtain at the entrance moved and Thorin walked in with his head proudly erect, his face smeared with blood and dirt, his hair hanging down his shoulders in thick messy ropes. He breathed out exhausted to death, his eyes closing for a brief moment, his shoulders finally relaxing. Then he looked at me and smiled.

“Congratulations,” I smiled back at him.

He nodded towards me in agreement, his eyes flickering with satisfaction. “I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided.”

I blushed deeply, not knowing what to reply. “I will not disturb you for too long, I will find my way out of this.”

“I strongly doubt that,” came the answer.

He collapsed to a chair and immediately after that Amarth sped in with his wooden chest and flowing hair.

“Where was the wound, your Majesty?” He helped Thorin get rid of his metal and leather armour that covered his upper body and arms. Thorin removed his tunic, growling at that movement in pain. Right under his arm, straight from the armpit down to the ribs came a nasty wound, where some blade found its way through the unshielded surface. Amarth ordered more light to be brought in and started to work on the wound immediately. Thorin rested his head on the back of the chair and in silence watched the healer do his job.

“Your Majesty should have summoned me earlier. You are risking your health for no reason,” uttered Amarth.

“Nonsense! Rather tell me how many of my warriors are wounded heavily. When is it appropriate to leave for Erebor?”

“I did not count those but we will need to perform several surgeries today the  whole night long... Maybe tomorrow until the afternoon, that is if all present healers help with no breaks to recover their strength. But we will manage to save many lives, if Iluvatar smiles at us. The losses suffered seem heavier than they are.”

“Good. Then we shall leave in two days. Let us recover from the worst and head home at the soonest. Will you accompany us to Erebor, Amarth? Your task is over now that we have won. But you can stay as my guest as long as you wish. As a thank you,” he eyed Amarth in calm anticipation.

“It is my pleasure, your Majesty,” Amarth bowed his head. “I got used to dwarvish ways. I can stay until my king summons me back to Mirkwood,” he replied as he reached for warm water and soap. He cleansed Thorin's chest and face from all the blood - I was not entirely sure if all of it was his - and to my surprise, when he reached for his hair, Thorin halted him with a simple gesture.

“Don't waste your time here. Go and tend to those who need it.”

Amarth left us in haste, his long dress flapping at the entrance cloth at that. Then Thorin turned his attention to me. “It is your turn now, Kate.”

His request startled me. I blinked in surprise and lingered for a few moments.

“I do not have to tell you the reasons, do I?” he mouthed slowly, his stern eyes locked with mine.

I shook my head. Of course I would help him. Did he not help me? I shook off the furs that covered me and got to my feet hesitantly. I was quite weak still but fought the dizziness with all my remaining strength. I walked slowly towards him and collapsed to another chair behind him. I cautiously brushed his hair away from his face and poured some warm water over it. I looked around for some shampoo but all I could find was some basic soap. I doubted the dwarves would carry such useless things with them to war, so soap would have to do for now. I washed his hair as diligently as I could. He did not seem to enjoy it, nor did he seem dissatisfied. Then I wiped it dry and looked around for a comb. Of course there was none. So I used my fingers to at least untangle his hair, the thick wavy mane that it was.

“Your husband will miss this,” he turned to me to watch me closely.

“My husband? I'm not married.” I admitted. “Nor engaged. Nobody will miss me, if this is what you want to hear,” I whispered.

“How come? Are you not of the age?”

“Of course I am… but I don't want to talk about this.”

“You will not talk to me?” he asked menacingly, his eyes flashing with nearing rage.

“I will… but not about this. Please.”

“Is that a custom in Norway?”

“It's personal, Thor… Your Majesty.”

“You have lost all your secrets the very moment I found you. You must get accustomed to it. I will ask questions and you will answer them. I require that. No exceptions, Kate.”

I inhaled sharply. “It's not as you think. The age is not important in my country. We marry when we find the right spouse.”

“Did your father fail to find a proper man for you?”

“It's my decision and my choice, the family have nothing to do with it, of course.”

“So how does an unmarried woman make her living?” Thorin leaned in, frowning. “Does she walk the streets?” He growled under his breath.

“Of course not! Our women study and work! We are independent of the men! We live on our own, decide on our own and love on our own!” I was starting to get pretty irritated. “Even without marriage!”

That set him ablaze. He stood up, eyeing me angrily, his naked chest moving heavily under the bandage. “Where do you belong then?! Who keeps you safe at times of war, when you walk alone in the open land, when you are sick? When you have no kin of yours? What is it that you do for living, Kate?”

“Do you think me a whore?!” I shouted at him, mad to the point that my hands started to shake.

He shook his head. “Answer me.”

I inhaled three times, ever so slowly, to calm down. “You don't understand. We are safe in the public... Well, mostly. And the society, the government takes care of us if we need…” at those words he gave me the “do-you-really-mean-that” look. I felt I was slowly losing my ground. “I work in a telecommunications company, it's hard to explain.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes… I work with computers and.... Basically help my customers interact, communicate, exchange and store information.” Well, could I explain what a high-end server and storage was?

“Do you carry a weapon?”

“No.”

“Can you use any?”

“No!” I saw where he was heading. “I don't need it!”

He raised his eyebrow. “I see. Can you work in the field, Kate?”

I blushed the brightest red. “No.”

“Can you bake bread?”

“Stop this, Thorin!”

“I will not repeat myself!”

I shook my head, starting to feel desperate. This conversation was taking a turn I didn't like. And worst of all, he addressed the weak points in my past urban life, which I didn't have the courage to name myself. The dull everyday work, which made no sense, with no physical results. Just the eight-hour work at my desk, my eyes tired of the screens, day by day, year after year, in the bustling city that never slept, with all the nameless faces which didn't care. They just didn't. I had a few friends and acquaintances, that was all. He'd made his point. Tears of desperation filled my eyes.

“That is not a good place to stay,” he whispered, and it almost felt soothing.

“Is this one better?!” my voice shook.

“No, it is not. But there are people one can depend on.” He said surprisingly calmly. “Go to rest now. You have served me well today.”

“I`m not serving anyone!” I exclaimed.

“Are you not?” his eyes turned the darkest shade of blue. “I am running out of patience, Kate. Beware of what you say or you will face the consequences.”

I stood up abruptly, taking my leave angrily, but my sore body and stirred mind betrayed me. I would have fallen to the ground had Thorin not caught me. Without a single word, he lifted me in the air, grinning at the pain he obviously felt spreading from his new wound, and carried me towards my bed. He laid me in the furs and said in a very quiet but ever so menacing voice: “This is the second time I had to carry you. You had better think of a good way to return these favours to me.”

Chapter 7

I awoke at the feeling of draught penetrating the tent. Shivering into the brisk morning air, I pulled the furs up to my chin. The sound of light rain against the tent cloth made me sink back with a slight sigh. I was alone here and with nobody else to upset me. I had some serious thinking to be done. Where would I go after I was healed? Could I try to search the lake one more time and possibly return home? I clung to the thought that I had missed something there and then, when all this happened. Some important clue. I needed to find out more, to have at least some plan, otherwise I'd go mad.

Later that day, I was visited by Amarth, and the grey-haired dwarf whom I had met on the first day, Oin. They did not talk much though. They inquired briefly how I felt and left to tend to the soldiers. I was brought a bowl of warm stew which tasted deliciously. Thorin returned in the afternoon, and along with him four dwarves whom I had never seen. By their expensive looking garments and armour I guessed they could be soldiers of a higher rank, or generals. They discussed their matters in a harsh, throaty tongue which I did not understand but occasionally heard from the outside camp. Finally, Thorin tapped one of them on the shoulder and they all left, smiling. I appreciated that so much.

Early next morning, just at daybreak, I was brought clean men's pants and a pair of leather boots. They did not fit my feet entirely but they had to do for the journey. It took several hours to pack the entire war camp, but we managed to set off still in the morning. I was helped into a covered carriage driven by a pair of heavy horses. I sat on a chest full of some beans, around me large sacks of flour, loaves of bread and smoked meat. I could even smell some coffee. A half-conscious elven soldier was lain beside me on the floor, on several layers of cloth. I was told he was being taken home to Mirkwood to be treated properly. I wanted to ask where that was, but we had to make haste. From time to time a soft cry escaped his lips, but we did not talk at all, he was too weak to even try. As we moved, I could hear steady raindrops bump against the canvas, and the sound soothed me to a sweet half-dream.

We travelled like this for three days, stopping regularly for food and relief of the stretched legs. At night the soldiers slept in the open, with the saddles under their heads. I stayed in the carriage though. It was very uncomfortable but still better than for most of us, so I did not object. I did not notice it at first, but the longer I travelled with no companion to talk to, I started to realize that the dwarves marching just behind my carriage avoided direct eye contact with me. This was becoming very strange. Thorin passed by us once a day while inspecting his army, giving me an unconcerned look from the back of his black stallion. He spoke a few words to the two elvish guards who rode by both sides of my carriage and left. I was starting to feel like a prisoner. What was wrong?

On the third evening I heard someone shout “Halt!” and our snake-like line stopped winding by a large forest, its trees tall and ancient beyond words. I heard some of the dwarves whisper "Mirkwood!", their eyes turning to the branches in a superstitious awe. I felt their sudden restlessness. That was when the elvish forces regrouped to a long narrow line and disappeared in the forest, taking my sick companion and other disabled kin with them. Their golden helmets glistened in the fading light and as they entered the dark depths, I could swear I heard the forest sigh with relief that its children had returned.

Amarth and a few personal guards stayed with us. Our carriages formed a large semi-circle as if for protection from an unknown enemy. This was very unusual. But the dusk was nearing and Thorin did not want to travel by night.

As I lay down to rest in the silence, I saw Thorin's silhouette passing by all alone in the dark blue light. He lingered at the border of the forest for a while, listening, waiting for something, his right hand resting on his sword's hilt. Then he turned around and strode towards my carriage. He spotted me fully awake and facing him, and stopped at the entrance. The darkness prevented me from seeing his expression.

“What is out there that you were watching?” I whispered with my heart in my throat.

“Nothing to be afraid of now,” he murmured and stepped into the carriage. He laid down on the floor beside me, spread flat on his back with all his garments and sword by his side.

I laid back as well, but his presence at this distance was quite unnerving. I decided to break the odd silence.

“What is hiding in the forest? Tell me, please.”

“Mirkwood is an ancient and powerful place, full of hate and evil. There are beasts and spirits hungering for flesh. Sometimes they come out at night, but it is very improbable that we see them tonight. We are keeping our distance.” He explained matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” I shrugged at the thought. My pulse quickened. I stared at the opening in the canvas. There was no moon tonight and the night grew dark and weary.

“You asked.”

“Yes.”

“Try to sleep now.”

I turned my back to him and closed my eyes. I couldn't fall asleep for a long time though, and when I did, I dreamt of wolves and dragons in flight. They were nearing and I screamed but no voice came out of my lungs.

I awoke into the dead of the night all drenched in sweat. I sat up with a feeling of danger at hand but could not put my finger on why. Thorin's silhouette by my side moved to touch his sword. I knew he was listening as well.

Then came the cry of a guard, tearing the silence with its sharp intensity. It seemed to be quite near. And then the strange shrieking and hissing sounds of an animal which I did not know. Thorin was on his feet in a second. He jumped down from the carriage and spat his “Stay here!” at me. And he was away, running to the right and behind the carriage towards where Mirkwood spread. Then came other voices of soldiers shaken from their sleep, neighing of horses and sounds of fighting.

I froze and dared not move, my head blank with fear, my heart racing. After a few breaths I moved cautiously towards the entrance and risked a quick glance out into the night but saw nothing. I desperately needed to know what was going on, so I stepped out of the carriage and slowly moved in the direction where Thorin had run. What revealed in front of my eyes was like risen from a nightmare. About fifty metres away from me, a large spider-like creature rose in attack. Around it about ten dwarves, shouting and stabbing the beast with swords and axes. From the direction of the forest other three spiders ran, I could hear their hissing even here. I saw a silvery blade rise and just then a voice of horn sounded in alarm. I heard the sound of hooves behind me and then all went still.

xxx

I could feel the fire before I actually opened my eyes. Above me the worried face of Amarth and the touch of his healing hands. He spoke to me but I could not make out his words at first. To my left Oin aiding him.

“...my lady! Can you hear me?”

I nodded but a million sparks of pain exploded in front of my eyes. My leg hurt as well.

“Do not move, everything will be alright,” advised Oin.

“What happened?” I breathed out.

“You are lucky the horse didn't kill you, lass. It rolled over you but we managed to get you from under it before it did you more damage,” he explained, adding some extra drama. “You have a couple more bruises but the worst is that your largest wound has reopened, judging by the blood. All the work from the last days is ruined. We have to start all over again.”

“Oh… but the spiders...?”

“Nobody was killed,” he smiled reassuringly. “Just a few wounded soldiers to be tended to, and you, of course.” He blinked at me. “But do not worry, we will fix you.”

“Thank you, Oin.” I managed a weak smile.

Then my eyes met Thorin's gaze. He was standing above us with his hands crossed across his chest in a menacing gesture. By his looks I could tell he was in terrible rage, his once ice-cold eyes gleaming and he would breathe fire as a dragon if he just could.

“Did I not tell you to stay in the carriage?!” he shot.

“Well… yes. But as you can see, I paid my price already,” I showed at my leg bitterly.

“You must learn to obey my orders!”

“Obey your orders?” I could not believe what he was saying. “I`m not your subject! Look, I owe you a lot, you helped me, without any doubt. But I will leave as soon as I can and we'll just wrap this all up.”

“You are not going anywhere.”

It took a few seconds until his words sank in. “What?! What did you just say?!” That bastard! I wanted to tell him more but my head started spinning from the loss of blood and all the excitement. At the edge of my sight I saw Oin and Amarth exchange worried looks.

“Do not speak, my lady. Try to relax. You have lost a lot of blood,” spoke Amarth, eyeing Thorin directly. Thorin took a deep shaky breath. I could see he was fighting his emotions with all the strength of his reason, and it was a difficult fight. After a few more breaths he seemed to tame the anger. He spoke very slowly now, carefully choosing his words.

“Tend to her wounds. Make sure she recovers her strength before we return. And explain to her how things are in Erebor.” Then he turned his back to us and left.

I could tell Oin was quite beside himself from our conversation. The dwarves definitely did not speak to Thorin in the way that I did. He was their king, of course, but I just could not help myself. I was not used to their ancient ways. Their admiration and obedience to their superiors. All the loyalty I could not understand. I was brought up as an independent woman, how could I bear such behaviour?

Amarth turned to me with a slight smile. “There we are. Shall we begin now?”

Then they cut my pants on one side to gain access to the wound and started to work. After all was finished, they covered me with an extra blanket and stayed with me watching the fire, occasionally checking if I was alright. They spoke of the attack, and that all were surprised that the spiders dared to come out of the forest. Amarth explained that it was indeed very unusual, but not entirely impossible. This night was moonless and the creatures felt safe under the cover of darkness. And hunger does its magic, he emphasized. They did not mention Thorin nor dwarvish ways though. Oin wanted to give me some time to recover and choose a proper occasion to talk, as I later discovered.

When my eyes grew hazy, they helped me back into my carriage. I slept all alone that night, my dreams heavy with tiredness of that day.

Chapter 8

It took another long and weary day until we finally reached Erebor. I did not see the mountain from my carriage but could sense we were nearing by the cheerful mood of the dwarves and the change of the terrain which grew mountainous and the climate a little colder. The mists were rolling in front of my eyes thick and heavy. I was left waiting in front of the gate, watching the whole army march away towards my back. After them the sick and the wounded, various helpers in charge of the supplies, tents and gear, and then the horses and war chariots. At last, a wide-armed dwarf called Dwalin showed up and helped me out of the carriage. He lifted me in the air effortlessly and strode into the gigantic gate.

I was ushered into a small dark chamber at the beginning of a long and narrow corridor with numerous doors. Dwalin mounted several staircases with me, but then I lost count. It could have been ten floors or more. As I learnt later, the king's private chambers were located on the very top, just one floor above mine. There I dwelled for full three weeks, resting on a bed made of massive dark wood, its linen white as snow, its velvet covers the colour of the reddest wine. The room was furnished with basic and simple accessories - a large chest of drawers, a padded armchair and opposite the bed, a cosy fireplace. It did not give away much heat though, and at nights I often felt cold. I guessed the dwarves were much more warm-blooded than me. The walls of grey solid rock bore no coating, save for a single tapestry. To my right was a high narrow window overlooking vast plains covered with rocks and dried grass, on the left partly shielded by the solid rock of which the Lonely Mountain was made. The sharp winds which were blowing in these heights broke on its edge, their currents flowing past my window without ever touching it. Occasionally, I could hear them sighing in the fissures of the stone.

My only companions in those days were Oin and Amarth. There came a dwarvish maiden three times a day to serve to me meals, but she did not speak to me at all. My attempts to speak to her came along unnoticed. She smiled at me briefly and turned away. After a few days I tired of trying to befriend her. I remained silent throughout the day, lost in dark thoughts in this dark room and cold kingdom. Only Amarth seemed to enjoy my company and spoke to me long every other day when he came to tend to my wounds and check my condition.

“They accommodated you in the lightest chamber in Erebor,” he spoke to me once when I complained about the ever-present darkness. “Which you can consider an act of favour. The dwarves are used to much harsher conditions.” He smiled. I felt he enjoyed my company being an outsider in this realm as well. He seemed to be able to translate the dwarvish behaviour to me so that I understood… or was starting to understand… until one day.

That was when early in the rainy morning, I suppose it was on Tuesday, Oin came in and sat on a stool by my bed. “Does the thigh hurt still?” he inquired with an undertone in his voice which sounded strange.

“It does… but it's getting better every day… unless I move.” I looked at him in anticipation.

He nodded. I sensed he was trying to think of a gentle way to tell me something which I might not quite like.

“What will become of me? I was not sentenced to death, right?” I interrupted the awkward silence to ask him directly.

“Ugh, no, lass,” he smiled unwillingly.

“When do you think I can leave? I need to… return home.”

“Given your condition and circumstances, I do not think you will leave… unless Thorin decides otherwise.”

“What do you mean by that? I'm not a prisoner, right?”

“Well,” I felt a sudden strike of panic at this word. “In our lands, if someone saves your life, you owe him. You are in debt for the rest of your life, and it is anticipated that you pay your debts to the last coin, so to say. It is up to your saviour to decide the proper way that you do so. In most cases, you stay in the household or vicinity to help your saviour with everyday life. You can call that a life-long companion or a servant, if your master is fair enough. Sometimes it's a slave. Sometimes even worse. And sometimes you are fred, if Mahal allows and you deserve it.”

Thorin's ‘I will have to keep you, Kate. Now that the future has been decided’ flashed in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

“Deserve?! I didn't ask him to fucking save me! The orcs could have let me go in the end.”

“I am not in position to judge His Majesty`s decisions, lass. But if it helps you understand - the orcs never free their captives.”

“But that's not fair! He can't hold me here against my will!” I exclaimed, feeling the blood rush into my face in anger.

“Of course he can. He has every right to do as he wishes, by our law and tradition. You will remain in this chamber until his Majesty decides your fate. Until then, you have no name and no position in this kingdom.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nobody calls you by your name until your master decides your duties and you are given a new name. Understand this - you practically died and are reborn to a new life, bound to your saviour, with a new name. You lost all and gained all. The responsibility of how your life goes is now on Thorin's shoulders. Even more that you are unmarried.”

“You can't be fucking serious! This all is so sick!” I yelled at him. “What does my love life have to do with it?!”

“He can't let you go because you have no father or husband to tend to you, of course.”

“Yeah, I noticed that`s a great deal for you. If you just let me go you'd get rid of this burden that I am to all of you.”

“Don't waste too much of your strength on your anger.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Try to rest, you will get used to it in time. All is good, believe me.”

I collapsed on the pillows, tears of anger and humiliation stinging in my eyes.

I hated Erebor. I hated all the dwarves. And above all, I hated Thorin Oakenshield.

XXX

Nightmares disturbed my sleep since that day. I saw myself being dragged into a deep pit full of fire, and on its bottom, a devil-like creature calling me by my name, in Thorin's deep voice. And a pair of chalices, we poured to them water from the lake I drowned in, and exchanged them. It took me a few days until Oin`s words sank in and I moved a little closer to accepting my situation. All things pass in time, I once heard, but I doubted the person who said this had ever experienced any wrongdoing in their life.

Then one day, the massive wooden door opened and Thorin walked in. He wore a dark tunic secured with a large ornamented belt and black leather pants. There was no sight of adornments or any jewels pointing to his royal status. He stood by my bed with an air of authority, yet still with certain casual grace.

“How are we doing today?”

“Much better, thank you.”

He nodded. “It has been a long time.” He leaned in slowly and touched my chin with his index finger and thumb, lifting my face gently so that he could better inspect my skin. The scratches were almost gone, and he seemed satisfied. It was just me that felt awkward at the sudden intimacy. I avoided his gaze on purpose. He noticed that and smirked. Then without a warning, he pulled my blanket away and uncovered my wounded leg before I could protest. I felt sudden strike of panic as unwelcome memories flashed in front of my eyes. I screamed and reached for the blanket to pull it back, but he grabbed my hand and pinned it down. He sat down on the bed, shortening the distance between us, and murmured under his breath: “Don`t you dare to defy me!”, clearly enjoying this moment. He waited for a few more breaths and when I did not move, with one hand he slowly pulled my sleeping tunic away to uncover my thigh. The nasty wound was still there, although I did not need to wear a bandage anymore. An ugly thick scar was forming on the white skin, but luckily enough, the flesh was not inflamed.

He breathed out and slided his gaze across my body, the whole length from my leg, across my stomach and chest, and stopped to lock with my eyes. “The rest I will inspect later.” I gulped and he smirked at that. I looked away and desperately hoped that he just leaves.

“Look at me.” came the command.

I reluctantly looked him in the eyes, the deep blue lakes that they were. He reached out to touch my cheek, and traced the line of my lips with his thumb, ever so slowly. My breathing came in shallow gasps, as I fought my once again rising panic. “You do not need to be afraid.” He voiced nearly inaudibly, and I sensed in him understanding of what was going on in me... and fight to suppress his own nature. His hand was warm and his steady touch surprisingly comforting. He entangled his fingers with the back of my head and stroked the back of my neck. My muscles relaxed a little.

“Good girl. We will continue later.” At that he rose and gracefully left the chamber. The door closed and I was left all alone but with my confusion.

Chapter 9

A few hours after that a tall female dwarf entered my chamber, her decent perfume filling the air as she moved gracefully, her long dress sweeping the floor. She was beautiful, with fair skin and black hair cascading down her shoulders, with a few streams braided at the back of her head. She wore simple but expensive dark blue dress and silver earrings which matched her pale blue eyes, embodiment of utter elegance. She stood in front of me with her arms folded across her chest as she studied me openly.

“So you are the little slave girl,” she said, her voice a melodic one, more to herself than to me.

“Obviously. Don't bother asking about my name. It doesn't matter anyway.” I was already pretty irritated.

She burst out in laughter, ringing sincere laughter which caught me by surprise. She was even more beautiful like that. “Thorin said you were a strange creature but I did not expect this! And in much better condition than I had thought! You are practically healed,” she smiled.

“And you are?”

“I  am the one asking questions.” She made a small pause. “I will assign duties you are able to perform. Now, can you cook, iron, sew, knit, do any kind of needlework?”

I answered honestly I could do some ironing and simple needlework and was an average cook, at which she raised her eyebrow but did not comment. She thought for a brief moment and then nodded. “I will send in some clothes that need simple repairs and ironing. It is a temporary solution until you feel good enough to climb the staircases and join other staff.”

I did not reply. Instead of threatening me, she sat down at the edge of my bed and studied me for a long moment. “His Majesty requires that. I am in charge of his household and will see to you performing your tasks properly.” Her voice softened now. “You seem to be an intelligent woman, Katherine of Norway. Do not mess this up at the very beginning.” Touching my hand gently, she whispered. “He does not deserve it after all.”

I blinked. Did he speak to her about our conversation in the war tent? “You seem to know a lot. I don't think I understand your position here.”

“Of course I do know, being His Majesty's dear sister.” At this she straightened her shoulders. “My name is Dis, you are Kate. All is clear now, formalities aside. I know your name but cannot use it in public. That is how things are in Erebor. But sooner or later you will have to make up your mind. Live here as a complete stranger and suffer or accept our ways and what our family has to offer you. Think about it very carefully.” Then she smiled and changed the subject. “Now, I will have your supper sent in. Your door will have to remain unlocked as you are everyone`s property now. Good night my dear.”

“When will I be given the keys?”

“When you are given your new name.”

She left me silent and grim. The wild autumn wind howled in the chimney and I shuddered at the sound.

XXX

The next day a large pile of freshly washed and dried clothes and linen was brought in and the servant girl pushed a low working table next to my bed. I could stand next to it until my leg tired and then have a rest as long as I needed. She showed me how to use their iron, as strange as it was. She took a few steaming wood pieces from the fireplace and shoved them in the iron`s opening, then waited for the tool to heat. Then I could do the ironing as usual, with a few sprinkles of water on the linen, although it needed a little more strength compared to modern electric irons. I did not complain though. At least I had something to spend my lonely hours with, and in fact I was not overloaded at all, Dis made sure of that. The ironing took about one or two hours a day. I was also given a new dress to wear during the day, very simple with no ornaments but comfortable. It was of the deepest forest green colour, the fabric rather thick but soft against my skin, its ankle length helping me retain as much warmth as possible in the cold days. Under it I wore a very light cream tunic with no sleeves as a kind of underwear and light leather shoes with thin sole.

Soon I was ordered to make small garment repairs, mostly stitching of tiny holes. I must have done quite well, because one day I discovered a familiar fur-lined cloak on top of the pile. I recognized a tiny blood stain on its edge where the meticulous washing had failed, and I shuddered.

I was slowly getting used to this life. The monotonous work with needle and iron, regular food and silence, except for the howling wind, was a soothing balm for my shaken nerves. Once in a while, in my stronger moments, I dared to open the door and peek out through the corridor. It was long and dark, with a few oil lamps secured on the walls, and an unrecognizable source of natural light - there must have been some hidden window or an opening in the heights. The corridor was lined with a series of other doors on both its sides, stretching as far as I could see to the left. As I learned later, it was inhabited by lower ranking officials and guests. To the right opened a staircase overlooking a huge, vast hall, resembling an abyss. I could see three floors on the opposite side from where I was standing, and was sure there were much more of them leading up and down which I could not see. The space between the mountain sides was enormous, echoing in its void, making the inhabitants look as unimportant and tiny as ants.

I was soon assigned the task to sweep the floor in this corridor. I did so daily, the servant girl reminding me of it by bringing a bucket of water in front of my door and knocking loudly. I was allowed to take my time so that I don't get exhausted.

Weeks passed and early winter crept in. I watched the first snowflakes dance in the wind, swirling in wild abandon, out of my shielded window. The days grew gray and even more silent, and I remembered bitterly I had not been out of the mountain for one single minute since I had arrived. Dis gave me a walking stick for support on walks longer than my corridor. I used it frequently to roam about and discover my strange surroundings, but preferred to choose the lonely hours of the night when I could not sleep. And there were fewer eyes to watch me. I did not make it to the main gate though, the ten floors were simply too much for my unused muscles.

That was when Dis entered my room to inform me about my new assignment. “You have done very well,” she smiled. “You can leave what you have been doing. Starting tomorrow, you will assist His Majesty with his morning routine.”

I nervously swallowed, and she giggled. “Now do you know how to behave in His Majesty's presence?”

I wanted to tell her that I should not call him a bastard in the first place, but then just shook my head.

“Never mind. First of all, never address him by his name. Never speak to him first, wait for him to start the conversation. If he asks you a question, address him as Your Majesty in your first sentence. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. One more thing, when you enter and leave his chambers, give a small curtsy. Just like this.” And she put her right foot behind her left and briefly bent at the knees. “It is easy.” And she patted me on the shoulder reassuringly.

Her silver-like ringing laughter echoed in my ears long after she had left.

Chapter 10

Next morning, a male servant opened my door to shake me from my deep sleep. It was very early, just before the dawn, and the skies were still dark. I quickly washed and dressed, and half asleep, with my hair all tangled, hurried after him to the upper floor. This was the highest floor, as I learnt, and I could tell that it looked different, lush and richly decorated at first sight. All from the dark red carpet to the dozens of oil lamps told the story of the highest status of its inhabitants. A pair of silent guards stood at the beginning by the steps. Hidden by the corner before the corridor actually started, was placed an intricate tool used for bringing the buckets of fresh water all the way up here, resembling a very deep well. We just had to pull an iron rope for a while. We poured the cold water into a large jar which my companion took along with an empty bucket, and I was given a fresh towel to carry.

Like this, we strode to the very end of the corridor, to the single door in the centre which overlooked its whole length. The servant knocked on the door gently and waited. There was no response for a good while and then there came the sound of a key in the keyhole, the door opened and bright morning sun blinded me. Thorin's silhouette moved in the opening and disappeared before we could finish our morning greetings.

His private chambers consisted of two adjoined rooms, a bedchamber connected to a library and study, and a closet. The carpet was the same dark red colour, matching an ancestral tapestry hanging on the grey stone wall. To the right a large solid four-poster bed, opposite a fireplace and a coffee table with two padded armchairs. In front of me a high window with a bench in the wall, and an old harp which looked abandoned. Thorin was standing by it, peeking out at the early winter landscape, shirtless in the morning cold. The servant hurried to a toilette table in the corner, where a washing basin stood, poured yesterday`s water into the bucket and told me to fill it with the fresh water from the jar. Then he went on to open the window and tidy up the room. I was left standing by the table, holding a towel. I had no idea what to do. Thorin eyed me and strode towards the table. He washed his teeth with a white powder, a mixture of salt and herbs, and then lifted the jar and poured remaining water over his head and shoulders.

“What are you waiting for,” he said, eyeing me impatiently, water dripping from his hair to the ground. The servant was frantically gesturing for me to rub the water away, obviously on the brink of heart attack.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” I remembered to address him properly, and hurried to use the towel. I gently wiped away his face and hair, then hesitated briefly before touching his chest. He was finely shaped, with broad shoulders and strong arms, probably because of training with heavy weapons. He noticed that and smirked. I could feel his intense stare, as he was obviously enjoying the moment. I fought desperately not to look him in the eyes. I was not sure what he would see there. He interrupted my thoughts by stepping away and walking into the closet. The servant ran after him to assist with clothes. When Thorin walked out, he was wearing dark brown trousers and a dark red tunic which looked very noble on him. Then he sat on an armchair by the window and dismissed the servant with a single gesture. He looked at me, his eyes flickering with amusement.

“The comb.”

I took the comb from the toilette table and stood behind him. This time I had a comb to do what needed to be done. But this time, Thorin did not speak to me. I worked silently, and slowly started to relax. When I finished, his mane looked like a lion's, truly impressive.

Then he ordered me to bring in his breakfast. I hurried out of the chambers to ask the silent royal guards where I can get some food, and they showed me to a dining room just at the beginning of the hall. I peeked in and found lush breakfast being served on the table. I borrowed a tray from one of the servants and put on some bread, eggs, ham and strong morning tea. I carried all this to Thorin to lay it in front if him, and when I turned away to carry in some more - for there was much more prepared - he stopped me.

“That's enough. Sit,” and he gestured towards the other armchair.

I sat down hesitantly. He took a good bite of the bread.

“You did well with the stitching.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I just hoped he would not start evaluating my other skills. But he did not, surprisingly.

He ate in silence, and I had nothing to say either, so I watched the morning sun rise out in the distance.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me when he finished his breakfast. I took the tray and before walking out of the chamber, I remembered to give the curtsy. My leg got caught in the long dress, I stumbled and nearly fell down with the tray in my hands, but managed to maintain balance.

I shot a quick glance at Thorin, prepared for a fight.

But he was smiling.

XXX

It took a few weeks until my companion servant taught me the proper service. Then he left me perform my duties alone. The first time I knocked on Thorin's door felt awkward but I got used to it. The longer time I spent in Erebor, with more confidence I moved in his chambers. Thorin did not speak to me and I kept my silence as well. He made a small compromise though by helping himself in his clothes, which I appreciated a lot.

One morning, we sat at the table as usual, Thorin taking his time while eating his breakfast. It was quite chilly that day, I did not sleep well at night and felt weak. I remembered my empty stomach which was normally not a problem. I was looking at Thorin's plate impatiently, when I heard the hungry noise come from my belly. Thorin stopped chewing.

“Are you coming to my chambers hungry all this time?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” I lowered my eyes.

“Then I have been torturing you since the beginning,” he said accusingly. When I did not reply, he pushed his plate in front of me.

“Eat. Next time I want you to come with full stomach.”

“Thank you… you did not need to-”

“Nonsense! You cannot serve me well if you are this weak.”

I shot an angered look at him, but the food in front of me looked too delicious not to taste it. I swallowed my words and took a good bite instead.

“Clean up when you are finished,” he said before taking his leave.

Chapter 11

The king's mornings mostly consisted of attending to state affairs in the audience hall or discussions with his generals and advisors. This happened several times a week. In more quiet days, he sat at his desk in the study, reading through parchments and signing some of them. It was my task to tend to this room as well, but he did not seem to notice me working. In those days, he always ordered me to bring him some wine with water in a tall carafa. I watched him absorbed in the work in front of him, often unconsciously frowning, and when he needed some more time to think about a problem, he took his pipe and smoked long enough to reach a conclusion. Sometimes he strode across the library and I had to get out of his way while dusting the books.

“Can you read?” he asked me once when he caught me trying to decipher a title of an old manuscript.

“I can read our alphabet, Your Majesty. I know the runes but cannot read them. There are lots of stones inscribed by them in Norway. This script I do not know,” I showed at a line of books bearing very gentle and intricate tall letters. “And this looks familiar to Latin alphabet. It's so strange to find it in this place.” My eyes were shining with enthusiasm. He took a large book out of a shelf and passed it to me.

“Can you read this?”

“The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks. Common tongue edition.” I opened the book, happy to understand it, and flipped over a few pages before looking up at Thorin. He looked somewhat surprised.

“You are educated then.”

“Of course I am. I told you the truth.”

“You can read, but you still cannot take care of yourself.”

“What? Of course I could take care of myself in my world! I lived on my own!”

“Enough of that, woman! Take the book and read it in your free time.”

“I will do so. But you cannot accuse me of such incapabilities all the time! Why does it matter so much to you?!”

Thorin's eyes darkened. I watched his expression change to that of deep anger… and something else.

“There is something in you,” he moved one step closer, and was looking down at me now. “Something that calls out my own demons.” With that, he placed both of his hands on my shoulders and in one swift movement pulled my dress all the way down to my elbows. My arms got stuck in the cloth and I couldn't move them, shocked. He slided his eyes across my bare skin and cupped my breasts with both of his hands. They were warm and strong in the cold air and I blushed deeply at the sudden pained desire in my core.

“See? I could take you right here on the table and you'd do nothing against it.” He pressed his body against mine and held my hands behind my back. He pulled at my hair so I was looking up at him now, my neck bent back, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Don`t! Please,” I managed to say, terror and unwanted passion mixing in me, running down my thighs. Soft moan escaped his lips, and I felt his erection pressing hard against my thigh.

“So vulnerable,” he breathed into my hair. He held both my hands down with his one hand, and with his free hand traced my cheek, neck, breasts and my bottom. He squeezed it tight, and I gulped. “So vulnerable, yet you don't fight to save yourself. Are you that submissive or is it the shock of what you have gone through?” Now he was breathing heavily, and I felt his hand slide up my thigh, emanating warmth even through the cloth of my dress. He reached in between my thighs, and I cried out at the hot wave the touch sent through my body. Still, I could not accept him.

“Please don't!” I whispered with tears of desperation in my eyes, and made an attempt to move away from him.

“And yet you respond to me!” he breathed, his eyes filling with dark passion. He was holding me even more tightly now, running his hands all over my breasts and thighs, squeezing at my buttocks, pressing me closer to his body as if he wanted to absorb me, sink me in. When he reached for the bottom of my dress and started to pull it over my knees, I realized what he was doing and cried out loudly, tears streaming down my face freely. Surprised, he looked me in the eyes, and I saw sudden change in him. He looked around the room, as if remembering where we are and what is happening, and he let go off me. He pulled my dress back up my shoulders and took a few steps back. Then he turned his back to me to lean against the window.

“You may leave now,” he dismissed me sternly. I ran out of the chamber, the ancient manuscript all but forgotten on the ground where it fell. At the edge of my sight, I saw Thorin reach out for his pipe.

  Notes:        

So there goes Thorin :) Hope you enjoyed!

I was thinking a lot about the languages and what would a stranger be able to comprehend in Middle-earth, and as the dwarves were used to speak Westron (resembling Anglo-saxon and old Norse), having English and Nordic origins, it would help Kate to communicate with them.

Chapter 12

I was so afraid of the morning that I could not sleep. I tossed and turned on my bed until I gave up and just stared wide-eyed in the darkness. I did not understand what was going on in me, all the opposing feelings of fear, despair and passion, but I knew I had to do something otherwise I would go insane.

I silently opened the door and walked out of my chamber, down a few staircases where I knew the kitchen was, along with royal storerooms and staff quarters. I stopped at one of them and, holding my breath, pressed the door handle. To my surprise, the door opened and I effortlessly sneaked in. Leaving the door slightly opened so that the torchlight came in, I entered the storeroom. All around were standing countless wooden boxes, barrels, sacks and glass vessels, full of supplies and unguarded. On the other side of the large room stood wooden chests with neatly folded royal bed linen and various fabrics. I did not find there what I wanted, so I tried another room. This time I was successful. Before me opened a real treasure of servant clothing and various household utensils - hundreds of candles, piles of soap bars, ropes, working tools. I opened several of the chests and dug through the stored clothes, which to my surprise, were winter fur clothes! I took a pair of thick pants, a thick woolen tunic and a snow-white hooded coat, and in the next chest I found a pair of boots. They did not fit me perfectly but that had to do. On my way back, I packed a bag with food supplies for a about a week, and returned to my room. I knew the front gate closed for the night, so I had to be patient.

The morning found me fully awake, staring onto the vast white plains where my fate would be decided. I had no idea where I would be heading, but the tinderbox which I had taken did provide at least a slight chance of surviving a week until I found a friendly village. Providing I would be able to use it. The gate opened with the first sun rays, and I knew I did not have much time until Thorin found out something was wrong.

It started to snow. I dressed in a hurry, threw the bag with supplies over my shoulder, and walked out of the chamber without ever turning back.

The gate was already open. I sneaked out among other travellers, holding my head down and slightly bending at knees while passing the guards. It was surprisingly easy. I decided to avoid the city which rose in front of Erebor - it would be my hunters` first choice. Instead, I walked over a wide bridge and headed in the direction other than the one from which we originally came the other day. It was snowing heavily now, and I smiled for myself. The snow will cover my tracks. With a little luck, they will not find me.

I walked for about an hour on the wide road, passing occasional travellers. Their numbers grew scarcer with time, as the land opened to its vastness. I started to feel uneasy, imagining what might be going on under the mountain right now, and decided to leave the road, just in case. I followed it from a distance though, hiding behind rocks and trees, which slowed me down, but I felt safer. After some time, I heard horses running by and shouts of men, but if they were searching for me, I did not know. I pressed against a rock and waited, thankful for my white coat. When I heard nothing anymore, I decided to continue on my way.

After a few hours, I sat down under a tree to rest for a while and eat a little bread and salted mutton. I heard no sounds of hooves by the evening, which encouraged me a little. I headed far into the wilderness, off the road, to find a group of trees, which could not really be called a forest, but still they offered some cover. I pressed my hurting body inside a large broken tree trunk which formed a narrow hole, and half sitting, closed my eyes to rest for the night. I did not dare to light a fire though, and was afraid that I might freeze to death, so when I started to feel too cold, I stood up to walk for a while, jumped and ran around, and then went back to my place. I would not fall asleep anyway, not with all the adrenaline flowing in my veins.

In the morning I decided to light a small fire to warm up my frozen breakfast and when I took off my gloves, found my fingers numb and hard to move. There was a prickling sensation to them. I cursed but after a while managed to regain some sensibility. After a few tries I lit the fire, and I praised myself for having paid attention while the servant girl tended to the fireplace in my old Erebor chamber. Then I ate hungrily and made myself hot black tea. Warmed up but tired from the sleep deprivation, I strode back to the road and followed it further on. I had no idea where I was heading, but was sure there would have to be some settlements scattered along it. It was a matter of luck if I managed to find one before I froze to death, but I was willing to take the risk. Not that I had a choice anyway.

As the evening began to fall, I once again left the safety of the road and headed towards some scattered rocks and trees in the distance. I was unbelievably exhausted and decided to have a good night's sleep by the fire. How surprised I was to find a cottage hidden just behind them! Smoke was coming out of its chimney, and I walked towards it to inspect who was inside. I saw an old woman through the window standing by a pot and cooking. Thick fog started to fall, heavy and smooth as milk in a jar, and suddenly I was desperate for a warm bed and human presence. Tears stung in my eyes as I longed for someone to say they were sorry for me. After a few minutes of uncertainty, I decided to knock on the door.

“Who`s there?” a suspicious voice came from the inside.

“I am a lonely traveller and I need a cover for the night. May I come in, please?” I tried to sound as friendly as I possibly could. I even smiled in the falling dusk.

The door opened just a few centimeters and an old judging eye glared at me. “Do you have money?”

I hesitated and then answered: ”I can share my provisions, good woman.”

After this, the door opened and the old woman sneaked out to check if I was really alone. “Come in then, darling.”

I stepped into the house, which consisted of the single large room. It looked rather clean, with herbs hung above the fireplace where cooked what looked like dinner. In the corner stood bed and a wooden chest, otherwise the place was empty.

“You can sleep on the ground by the fire. Your coat looks very noble - I hope you can bear such conditions, lady.”

“Oh, I am happy for that, thank you,” I said, while trying to suppress an uneasy feeling.

“Where are you travelling all alone in winter?”

“Family matters. I have to visit my distant relatives.”

She nodded knowingly, and did not ask further. She handed me a bowl of stew and I took out a loaf of bread which we shared. I massaged my fingers which once again felt numb and held them close to the fire. They had swollen since the morning and felt itchy. I mentally cursed.

We did not speak much. She looked like she did not need attention despite living this lonely life, and I was too exhausted to initiate a conversation. She placed a rag in front of the fireplace, I put off my boots and coat and laid down to rest. It must have taken seconds until I fell asleep because I do not remember anything after my head touched the floor.

XXX

What is this feeling? Someone is touching me… Someone is touching me! Wake up, quick! I struggled to open my eyes heavy from the unnatural sleep. When I finally came to my senses, I saw the old woman kneeling beside me, searching my pockets. I yelled and kicked her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

She did not reply and struggled to finish her search. But she was weaker and when she realized she could not possibly win, she reached for the poker and held it in front of her, pointing at my chest. “Get out of my house!”

I glanced around only to find out my clothes and bag were gone. “Where's my coat?!”

“Get… out!” she spat again and reached out for a blow. The poker swung dangerously close to my chin and I backed towards the door, my head swimming. She must have added something in my stew.

“Give me back my clothes! You can't have me walk out like this without boots and...uhhh... coat!” I demanded, reaching for the door handle, and when she made another attempt to hit me, I flung the door open and fell down a flight of steps, landing hard on the icy ground. I shook my head in disbelief. I felt warm blood streaming down my face in a thin string. The snow under my bare hands and feet stung, the blood drops forming tiny scarlet flowers, and the cruel truth struck me hard. I will die here. There is no way out.

I took in the chilly morning air to brace myself for my final stand, and struggling to my feet, I bumped into something. It was a heavy boot coated with fur and metal pieces. I looked up in despair to meet Dwalin`s gaze. He stood there with his hands across his chest, taking in the situation.

“Dwalin…” I whispered out of breath.

“What dwarvish scum have you brought here!” The woman yelled. “Get… out, I said!” The poker made a circle in the air, aiming for my head. Dwalin caught the weapon with his one hand, with the other grabbed the woman by her throat and yanked her to one side so that they were now both facing me, the enemy kicking and screaming. Stopping for a brief moment, his gaze met something behind my back.

I turned my head and gulped.

Thorin was watching us from the back of his black stallion just a few meters away. Around him a group of soldiers and a few other familiar faces. Motionless, his wild mane flowing in thick messy ropes down his shoulders, across the blue cloak I knew. His expression impenetrable, detached as a king should be, only the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him and the watchful night he must have spent in search for me. He slightly nodded in approval. With one smooth move, Dwalin slit the woman's throat, the blade breaking her skin as if it was of pure butter. She gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground, dead in seconds, her blood forming a red carpet all around. It was as simple as that. Taking life is the easiest thing in the world for a warrior.

Thorin dismounted and strode towards us slowly. He turned the corpse around with his foot and spotted a dwarvish golden bracelet on its hand. He snarled at the soldiers: ”Search the house!” and they sped in to fulfill his order.

Then he turned his attention to me. I dared not look him in the eyes, nor speak, so instead I just stared at the ground where the corpse was lying in the most unnatural position, its glossy eyes wide open. He reached out, pulling me towards the corpse, and forced both of my hands in the blood-stained snow. I struggled feebly, not daring to resist him in the open. My stomach felt weak, and I would have vomited, had it not been empty.

“How does it feel, slave?!” he spat, his voice full of hate. He was right. Her blood was on my hands. I killed her. Had I not escaped… Tears of shame and regret stung in my eyes. My voice shook: “I'm sorry, your Majesty…”

I risked a quick look at him now. Just one brief moment, and what I saw in his eyes made my heart sink to the very bottom. I understood that this time I had overstepped way too far, far beyond anything he could ever forgive. I had betrayed him, his trust in me, and all was lost. I saw endless anger, and what was even worse, endless disappointment. His jaw tightened as his icy blue gaze met mine.

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… I'm so sorry…” I whispered only for him to hear, keeping my eyes low. He did not reply, and I started to sob. Suddenly I felt I was losing him, and the realization struck me unprepared. I needed his attention, in the strangest of ways. I needed his strength and guidance in this world I did not come to understand. He did what he considered right, from his point of view, even though I failed to recognize it. I was ashamed to the core. “I`m so sorry… if only I could take things back… I would never have left…” I pushed out in between the sobs. The blood stang in my eyes and I wiped it away with my cuff, it was not important now. “Will you ever forgive me? Please? I was so afraid...” I dared to look up at him.

He did not let me speak though. He made a silencing gesture and my apology froze on my lips all forgotten. He seemed to be judging the bleeding wound on my head for a brief moment. Then, probably having come to a decision it was not that heavy, he nodded towards Dwalin who helped me to my feet. “Let her dress,” he commanded darkly, “Then tie her to my horse.” My eyes widened and Dwalin grinned as he proceeded to fulfill the order. He retrieved my dress from the hut and threw it to me. I dressed hastily and he led me away to the horse. There he tied my hands with a rough rope and fastened the other end to the horn.

After a while the soldiers who searched the house came out. “Your Majesty,” saluted one of them, holding in front of Thorin a sack filled with golden trinkets, jugs and candlesticks. “The witch must have stolen from more, who knows what other crimes she had committed.” I shrugged. I was supposed to be dead by the evening.

“So much for a fair trial,” Thorin growled. “Leave the corpse as it is. The wolves will do the work.” Then he strode to his horse and mounted it. He checked if my rope was tied securely to his saddle and we set off.

XXX

We strode at a steady pace and it started to snow again. After a few hours I grew really tired and the walking exhausted me more than I would have thought. I dragged my freezing feet after me in the once-again deep snow but fought my body's needs, pushing it to its limits. I did not object how they treated me, I very much deserved it, and was willing to yield as far as I could. Obedience was the route to Thorin's heart.

We walked the whole day with just a single half-an-hour-stop for the men to eat and relieve their bladders, and then we went on. I was not given anything to eat and I did not dare to ask for a break for myself. I doubted they would let me go pee unguarded. So when Thorin left for a brief moment, I did what I needed where I was squatting in the snow, still bound to his horse. Nobody seemed to care.

It was surprising to find out that my route along the main road took twice the time it should have, as we saw the Lonely mountain rising in front of us the very same evening. It stood out from the snow-filled plain as a large finger pointing angrily to the skies. Behold the kingdom of the dwarves!, it said, and I had a sudden deja-vu. Just a few months ago I was entering this mountain in a very similar situation, weak and wounded. What had changed since then? I felt I was running in circles like a bug in an empty bowl, never finding its way out.

Chapter 13

  One by one

 Love's raised horns sound their sweet surrender

  And one by one

  Her defences fall debris

  My will be done

  I shall storm the gates where fates defend her

  And once I've won

  Her heart will belong to me

(lyrics by Cradle of Filth)

The dwarves dismounted the horses which were immediately taken over by staff and led to the stables to be tended to. We climbed the ten floors over the ground, on which I spent the last of my strengths. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep in my warm bed. Any bed. Just sleep and never wake up.

When I recognized Thorin's private quarters though, I rallied in anticipation of what was about to come. Unsure and vulnerable I was led through the red corridor, and I took in the familiar scent. Thorin entered his chamber and Dwalin pushed me inside in front of him. Then he closed the door from the inside and stood behind me with his arms crossed on his chest. Thorin immediately gestured towards my clothes and Dwalin stepped in to undress me, quickly and violently. I stood there all naked now but in a thin tunic, but Dwalin did not do me the last favour. He tore the tunic from my shoulders and it fell to the ground in two poor pieces. I covered what I could with my hands and stood there shaking.

Thorin took off his heavy coat and threw it on the bed. Then he walked towards me, slowly but ever so menacingly, and I saw his expression change from the regal mask he wore in the outside to the real Thorin, his anger now unleashed. He reached out and hit me hard, so hard I lay on the floor in a second. I touched my reddened cheek, shocked, but did not speak to defend myself. I deserved it. I struggled to my feet again, very slowly and unsure if I was allowed to, and he hit me once again, with even more strength. Now I was sobbing openly, my bladder betraying me as I lay there shaking and exhausted, and I hid my face behind my hands to cover my shame. A puddle was forming on the carpet under me.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!” he stormed. “Escape from me like that would save you from anything, from yourself?! Do you have an idea what it means for me as a king? That I cannot handle my own slave! How can I rule a kingdom when my slaves do not submit? What message does it send to my subjects, my subjects who watch my every move, did you think of this when you were running away like a sick bitch?! I was too benevolent to you!”

“I had no idea… I had no idea.... Y0ur Majesty… I'm sorry,” I whispered between sobs, not daring to look up and meet his gaze.

“No, indeed you had no idea. Any dwarf in your position would now beg me to let him take his life in front of my eyes, to repay his debt and unloyalty. But you… you,” he was searching for words. I heard his steps as he was marching around the room.

“I`m so sorry, Your Majesty. I will do anything you wish,” I said, being pretty sure I did not have the guts to offer my life. He smirked knowingly. “If only you forgave me...”

“No. It will not be that easy, slave. I will make sure you repay to the very last bit,” he hissed, and I heard him kneel down beside me. He took me by my hair and lifted my face so that I had no other choice but meet his gaze. He held the contact for a brief moment, then looked down at the wet carpet under me.

“Very good,” he said, smirking. “We will continue with the hair now.”

With that, he took out his long knife and cut off a handful of my hair. And then another. I winced, placing both of my hands on his chest, squeezing the soft fabric of his tunic, partly to steady myself, partly to hold him at the arm's length.

“Do not move!” he commanded. “I am taking half of your hair now. It will betray your crime, from now until it grows back. Until then you will live in shame among us. Should you ever fail me again, all the rest will be cut away, and you will be sold to the slave-traders of the enemy. You are given one more chance, slave. Remember that well. Is that understood?” he growled darkly.

“Yes,” I pushed out between sobs.

“Good. Now don't move unless you want to get hurt.” And he placed the cold blade on my scalp and cut away the first hair, just at the roots, dangerously close to the skin. He worked quickly but efficiently, and I held my breath to minimize my movements. When he finished, I touched my head to explore the damage. The look on my face must have shown my deepest horror, because he returned his: “That will teach you manners,” while sheathing the knife.

I waited for his permission to stand up and leave, but it did not come. He slowly strode to a wooden chest from which he produced a large leather belt. For a brief moment he weighed it in his hand, as if judging if it was the right tool for my punishment. Having come to a conclusion, his features hardened, and I knew what was to come. My heart was beating its way out of my chest and my head went dizzy from the cold fear spreading in my veins. And then there he was again, breaking my weak struggle with extra force anger gave him, yanking me fiercely to lie face down on the floor. He placed just the tip of his foot on my shoulder, pinning me securely down in the position, and that was when I literally started to shake from the anticipation of pain.

He said one word - “Ten!” - and I heard the air breaking on the belt as it fell down and I screamed in pain. Then came other nine blows, each as slow and heavy as the former, well aimed from my back down to my bottom, and I wrung and cried and pleaded, but to no avail. When he finished, my back was all fire and blood and I was left with no power to move or speak.

The world was fading in black and white and I heard Thorin utter: “Dress her and take her downstairs. Through the main staircase for all to see.”

Then I stopped to feel and drifted to a world where no sounds dwell.

Chapter 14

I awoke to absolute darkness. I felt the cold rock under me bite in my skin and wet air chilling my bare feet. I was lying face down on a piece of thin cloth which was half covering me, but did me no good in fact. I was hurting in every way, not just my damaged back and bottom. The worst was the hot bruise I felt stinging on my cheek. I did not care where I was. There came no sound, just the echoing silence of my own troubled breath and water dripping in a thin stream somewhere close. After some time, my eyes got used to the darkness and I recognized a few shadowy shapes. The door. The tiny square room. The sharp surface of the walls ripped out of the mountain flesh. The empty bucket in the corner. Of course. I closed my eyes and dozed off.

When I opened them again, I realized there was subtle light coming through a tiny hole in the door. Then I heard footsteps approaching and silent chatter. The door opened with a screech and a tall thin figure walked in.

“My lady.”

Amarth knelt next to me, placing a lantern close by. He brought in fresh air and the scent of winter forest.

“Amarth... “

“Save your strength, my lady, ” he spoke in a hurry. “My visit here is against the King's orders for you to be left on your own. If you understand.” I was too tired to even nod, so I lay there, waiting while he examined my wounds. “If you allow me.” And he lifted my tunic hastily, up to my shoulders, baring my body as it was, full of fresh wounds in the torn skin. I did not care. Nothing mattered anymore. He cleansed the skin quickly and put an ointment on the wounds along with fresh bandages. Then he examined my hands and shook his head. “Squeeze my fingers, my lady.” I did as he said, weakly. “I cannot do any more now, I am afraid. Drink this, it will do you good,” and he produced a tiny flacon out of nowhere and made me swallow its contents. It tasted bitter but sent hot waves through my stomach and veins nearly immediately. I felt a little better.

Then he stood up and knocked on the door. “You must be strong, my lady. I will do what I can but given the situation…” And he left, the door closing behind him with a loud thud.

I dozed off to the troubled sleep again. I woke and dreamt and soon the boundaries between sleep and wake blurred until I no longer knew what was really happening. I saw faces leaning in from the dark, dwarvish faces, then snow fell and I lay on the forest floor under starry skies. I felt terribly hot and the snow brought away my pain. The mountain talked to me. It spoke its anger of being cut in pieces by the merciless hammers and mattocks. It sang to me of the glory of its immense underground treasures which still lay hidden from greedy eyes. Of deep crystalline lakes of cool fresh water in its depths. I saw myself lying on the ground in a deep underground dungeon, barely breathing, and my head felt strangely light, my senses sharpened. I rose above the mountain, playing along, chasing the winds, and in the labyrinth of the corridors beneath saw thousands of tiny lives moving, dwarves and animals, working, fighting, laughing in bitterness and joy. I saw the king in his lonely chamber, sleeping his restless sleep. Then the mountain spoke " Return to the lake when the storm rages"...  and I started falling back to my body through an abyss, backwards, facing the skies.

I opened my eyes gasping for breath. I saw Dwalin`s face leaning in and mutter something, but I could not make up the words. All fell into the deafening silence again.

XXX

 “My lady, let me help you now that I can,” Amarth offered, placing a large bowl of water next to me. I blinked hazily, my head still dizzy. I peeked out of the window. Bright winter sun came shining in the chamber, my chamber, my bed. Cosy fire was lit in the fireplace, its flames licking at apple tree wood, as I recognized by the scent. Amarth was seated by me on the bed among various healing necessities he had brought with him, and by the doors a dwarvish guard stood, expressionless.

 “Thank you Amarth,” I tried to mouth but no sound came from my cracked lips. I coughed. “How long…?”

 “Do not speak. I am allowed to talk to you only regarding the matters of your health. If you understand.” He explained silently and I glanced at the guard. I nodded and took the first look at my hurting hands.  The skin had turned red and dark brown at some places and tiny blisters started forming. I moved my fingers to try them and hissed in pain.

 “Here,” Amarth said, placing the bowl closer. “They have been frostbitten. Put them in. We must slowly bring them to normal temperature.” I obeyed, frowning at the movement. I did not know where the pain came from as the fingers felt numb. In the meantime, Amarth examined me thoroughly, his attentive gaze stopping at my once long hair and the skin of my face. It must have shown some change in colour because he shook his head disapprovingly. I stared at my hands, feeling blush rising to my cheeks. He did not comment on my state though, instead he placed a piece of clean cloth on my skin. It felt soothingly cold, and tears stung in my eyes.      Look at where you are now, you silly    , I thought to myself.      For them all to see    .

 “Can I look in the mirror please?”

 Amarth hesitated for a moment before holding the mirror in front of me. At first I could not believe my eyes. I did not recognize the broken person staring at me from beyond the messy, blood-cloaked hair, at least what remained of it. It was neatly shaven on the whole left side of my skull, just as close to the bone as possible, making me look like a man. Like a defeated man. Exposing my bruised left cheek where Thorin's hand fell twice. I gasped and averted my gaze.

 Amarth stayed for about half an hour, helping me to sip a few spoons of hot broth, while my hands bathed. Then he left along with the guard, promising to come back soon.

Chapter 15

Amarth indeed did return, in fact he returned several times that day, and the days that followed. Each time bringing a bowl with water warmer than before, and slowly I started to feel my fingers tingling as they sucked in the warmth.

“Let us see if your sense of touch comes back again. I cannot promise it will, though,” he stated between changing of my bandages, and I sighed.

I spent several days in bed just like this, hurting, exhausted and alone. Nobody came to see me, not even Gloin or Dis, and I felt trapped as if in prison, a much lighter and warmer prison, but it did not make much difference. The door remained locked from the outside now. As the long lonely hours passed, a single thought of opening the window and just jumping out crossed my mind. I pondered on it for a brief moment, but decided against it. I did not have the guts to kill myself, and what was the worst, I did not know if it was good or not.

About a week after that Thorin showed up. It was early morning, I was staying in bed as usual, all tucked in the covers. He strode into the room, wearing dark leather pants and a burgundy tunic, and the air changed as he glared at me from under his thick eyebrows. He walked around the room as a lion examining his territory, checking on if his orders had been carried out to the last bit. Then he stood above me, arms crossed on his chest, and uncomfortable silence filled the room. My heart started to pound faster, and I looked down to avoid his gaze.

“So,” he started, and his voice sounded deep but strangely cold. “Do we still want to fly? Or have you changed your mind as women like to do so often?”

“No! I will not try to escape any more, your Majesty. I would like to apologize to you, I really would like to…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast. “I know I had overstepped too far. I have failed you. I am sorry for that. I will not leave unless you wish me to, I promise. I swear.”

He snorted. “No, you will not.”

He sat down on my bed, his features stern. “Show me,” he said, pointing to my hands. I stretched them out meekly and he studied them with a frown.

“You wore gloves, did you not?” He interrogated, his brows slightly lifting in surprise.

“I did, your Majesty.”

“You seem weaker than other women.”

“Perhaps… I cannot judge on dwarvish women, I barely know any,” I mouthed slowly, carefully weighing every word on my tongue. “I am used to cold, but…” I stopped as my voice broke.

He did not interrupt me, which felt even worse. Instead, he moved closer and leaned in to watch me intently. When he spotted the last traces of a bruise on my cheek, he frowned. I blushed deep red, avoiding eye contact. I felt his one finger under my chin, gently forcing my face up. My chest was filled with heavy emotions ready to burst out at any second by then. He traced the line of my jaw with his thumb, ever so gently, stroking my cheek with a feathery movement.

“I do not wish to see any more bruises on this face or body. It is a shame to waste such beauty for nothing. You must be wise, little one.” He stroked me again, gently. “I do not wish to hurt you, you see. I do not wish to break you. Is it so difficult to just submit to me?” He asked patiently, as if scolding a child. I guess this was the closest he could ever get to just saying I'm sorry, in his own strange way. He smelled of new leather and spices, and it reminded me of the day we had met.

“You… you scared me, my lord. I am sorry for what I did, but I was just too terrified of you.”

“How come? It has been several months since I found you. You should have already forgotten the incident. You have been taken care of. You have home and food, you are safe now.”

Seeing my expression, he asked directly: “Do you fear men?” Such a plain question and such a strong reaction.

‘’Yes,’’ I nodded desperately in between sobs.

He exhaled loudly, never stopping his interrogation. “Did the orc rape you? Answer me honestly,” he asked darkly, clenching his fists now. His gaze hung on my lips but I could not answer. I just could not. He swore and hit the side of the bed angrily. Then he stood up and started pacing around the chamber while I sobbed. His anger made him look savage and unpredictable. After a while he sat down again, more composed.

“Kate, you are so very different. Any dwarvish woman would have already recovered in your place, whatever it is that happened to you. This is not possible.”

“But I'm  human  ! I don`t have your stamina, obviously! I have my bruises and they may last until I die in the first place. I need time, a lot of time, your Majesty. And although I'm trying, I keep on doing things which in your world are understood as mistakes. I'm sorry for that. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do to make things right, but I am the way I am,” I said shakily.

He watched me closely, the storm in his eyes betraying his feelings. He was breathing heavily now. He leaned in menacingly, although I think it was not his intention to frighten me any more. It was the anger rising. He touched my shoulder, the line of my neck and stroked my cheek slowly, consciously. Our faces were now so close I could feel his breath on my ear and heat emanating from him. He remained like that for a few seconds, solid as a statue, and when I did not flinch, he gently nibbled at my earlobe. It sent warm wave through my body, to my surprise.

“No harm will come to you in these halls, Kate,” he whispered in a deep set growl. “I will give you your time. Although, given your quick responses to my advances, I think it might be less time you would consciously choose.”

I gulped at that and he laughed throatily. It was the first time I saw him actually laugh, and it made him look so charming that my heart ached. He pressed a chaste kiss on my lips and straightened his back.

“Now,” he said much more cheerfully, “It took Amarth whole day to convince me to let him examine you. You should thank him for that. He says your hands should heal soon, and I hope they do,” he said, the warm sparkle never leaving his eyes. I realised Amarth did not tell him about his secret visit in the dungeon, but I kept my mouth shut. Thorin looked so boyishly carefree that I did not have the heart to ruin it for him. Or me.

“My fingers still feel numb. I hope he is right. I'm starting to lose faith in elvish medicine.”

“Don`t, Kate. They will get better.” He took my hands in his, careful not to touch the blisters, his palms flat against mine.

“Your Majesty?”

“Yes.”

“May I borrow a book from your library? Any book, really. I`ve spent here so much time alone.”

“And you will carry on in that way, Kate. Your crime is not yet forgotten. But I will do you the favour, yes.”

“Thank you.”

We remained like that for quite some time. We spoke of unimportant things, such as weather in these lands, food available in winter and trade with friendly nations. I tried to explain to him what chocolate tasted like back in Norway, and he said he would have his cook prepare sweets better than my chocolate. I could not believe we could ever have such a nice conversation. This new Thorin felt very refreshing.

He left after about an hour, with half-smile on his lips.

“Rest now,” he said, and I obeyed.

Chapter 16

 My days grew long and nights even longer. I nearly forgot how humans (and dwarves) looked as all kept Thorin's orders not to interfere. Thorin did not come back for other two weeks but Dis started appearing instead, and Amarth, who spoke to me again.

 I was astonished when Dis stormed in one day to hand me over a book I was already familiar with:      The tales of the dwarvish kingdom. Collected myths, stories and legends of the ancient folks.    I was so grateful that I laughed happily at her, thanking her that I would have something to occupy myself with.

 I started to eagerly read the manuscript which looked quite old, its pages yellowed with age and letters written in strange shapes, but still readable. It contained various stories which to me sounded like fairy tales, but nice to ponder on. Until I came across a short record of two men who emerged from a lake in Rhovanion during an evil storm to show themselves to astonished native people. It stated it had happened three centuries ago and their further fate remained unknown. I was shocked. Was this just a coincidence? Why did Thorin lend me the book? I decided to learn more when given the chance, but then I remembered the promise I had given to Thorin and my heart sank. No, I cannot do this, I cannot leave even if I knew how to do it. I swore to him. Damn!

 xxx

 It took another week until I was let out of my chamber to resume my morning duties. When Thorin's door opened for the first time after the ages of my solitude, I had a strange deja vu of him peering at me from the entrance, his dark figure against light of the day. I made a small curtsy, keeping my eyes low, greeting the king silently, and he let me in with a slight nod.

 I poured fresh water into the washing basin, trying not to spill a drop. I felt his gaze on my back, he did not move nor speak, but I knew he was there, still in the shadows of the early morning. The mountain was  sleepily silent, but I could hear my heart pounding its way out of my chest. I finally finished what I was doing and stood by the toilette table, clean towel hanging from my arm. I waited for him to speak first.

 “So, my little slave has returned. How does it feel?”

 “Thank you for asking, your Majesty. I am glad I am back. It is better than I would have expected.”

 “Of course you are,” he smirked, lowering above the basin.

 I did not answer. Instead, I studied the chamber for any changes. It remained the same, dark and luxurious, suffocating with pompousness and with what I could call a certain sense of weight of the crown. Could there ever be such a thing? An orphaned harp stood where it had been left, with no trace of dust, but still it felt out of place here.

 “Umm… Does anyone play it?” I pointed at the instrument after a while of odd silence when he was washing his face.

 Thorin looked up at me with a surprised expression.

 “No, I do not play it anymore. Since the dragon. Strangely, it survived all those years. The strings would not be usable anymore, though.” He was studying it, as if trying to remember what it actually was and if it meant anything to him.

 “It is beautiful.”

 “It once was, aye.” He abruptly turned back to the basin and poured some water over his head. I handed him the towel but he shook his head in disapproval. “Your turn.”

 I swallowed and took one step closer to rub the water away from his skin and hair. He stood tall and I could not properly reach where I needed, and he did not even try to make it easier for me. He was playing with me, and obviously enjoying it with a hint of smirk.

 “Come closer,” he advised, and a sudden thought came to my mind. I circled him to step behind his back, indeed closer, and reached out with the towel. I smiled to myself for this little victory, but he growled and pulled me in front him. “Resistant, are we?” he muttered darkly and pulled me even closer, squeezing my shoulders in his iron grip. My breathing quickened, and I felt panic rise once again in my chest, ice cold as the mountain in winter.

 “No, please… I’m not…” I whispered, keeping my eyes downcast.

 “You have turned pale,” he said, holding me at arms` length to look at me properly, then abruptly loosened his grip. “Go and sit there.” He pointed to the armchair by the window. I obeyed quickly, grateful and relieved, and rested as he had ordered. He walked towards the table, poured water from a large jar in a glass and handed it to me.

 “Drink.”

 I hesitantly took it and swallowed a few sips, trying to compose myself.

 “Have you finished the book?” he asked out of the blue, seating himself in the opposite chair.

 I blinked. “I have, your Majesty.”

 “And?”

 “Thank you for it, I enjoyed it a lot. It made me understand a few things about these lands.” I felt a little better, my courage returning to me with every passing second. I wondered where was this charming and warm man I had talked to the last time, and if he would ever show up again.

 “Which are?” he lifted his eyebrows.

 “Well, your culture, your beliefs. I found one of the stories particularly important…” I looked down at my hands with a pause. He did not ask which one, so I glanced at him and saw his features had hardened, menace written in his eyes.

 Oh, he knew very well what I was referring to.

 “So… if you are asking if I am planning to escape to the lake because of it, then the answer is no. No, I'm keeping my promise. My place is here until you decide otherwise. Although I'd like to explore that possibility, if you allow, of course.”

 “You are starting to learn your manners.” The tips of his mouth curved in a half smile.

 “Thank you, your Majesty.”

 I have passed the test. This time.

Chapter 17

 “You need to get used to me, Kate,” were the words which shook me right next morning. I was standing at the open window to let the fresh morning air in, making up the king-size bed, arranging the pillows neatly.

 Thorin walked out of his closet with bare chest, throwing his tunic on the bed.

 “My lord…”

 “It will happen whether you fight it or not, we both know it. The sooner you let go, the better for you. No more excuses.”

 He closed the distance between us in two long steps, reaching out for me as naturally as for a glass of water. He pulled me to him before I could react and forced my arms around his waist.

 “Shhh… I will not hurt you,” he proclaimed in a soothing whisper and stood still, his arms hanging by his hips. I let him go with a silent scream but he grabbed my hands immediately and wrapped them again around his naked waist.

 “Do not make me repeat myself,” he growled, holding me securely in place where he wanted to have me once again. I fought shakily, but he was too strong for me to win this. I panicked and yelled my “Please don’t!” at him, but he squeezed both my wrists with one hand. With the other he patted my hair briefly.

 “Do not fight, and I will not advance,” he announced and waited for the words to sink in. He was looking down at me, his head slightly tilted to one side, his eyes searching for the sign in mine that I understood. A waterfall of dark hair cascaded down his shoulder, making him look feral and playful at the same time. I breathed out and gave up my fight, just to try the effect.

 Thorin stood still, eyeing me from his height, and when I did not move for a few seconds, he gently pressed his fingers to the small of my back and pushed me to him so that I was now leaning on him.

 “Better,” he hummed into my hair. It felt very odd, I was not prepared for this delicate show of intimacy. I was still shaking, but when he did not try to touch me in any other way, I just gave in and stood still, taking in his masculine scent and the softness of his skin. I felt his chest move as he breathed, his lips slightly parted as he was watching me - his prey, waiting, and I dared not look up, so I just rested my forehead in the crook of his neck. Silence fell between us, and I was afraid to move or speak, but the solid statue that he had turned into strangely offered comfort and strength I could depend on. My muscles relaxed and I let out out a small sigh of relief before I could consciously stop it.

 We remained like this for good two minutes and then he just stepped away to put on his tunic.

 “You may bring in my breakfast.”

 I blinked a few times and left for the kitchen, on wobbly legs.

  XXX

 We went on like this for the next three days, Thorin making me hold him, but never advancing, and I felt like a frightened animal being tamed, slowly and skilfully, like a mare being hushed and soothed into sweet oblivion until she was eventually saddled and made into a possession with the air of finality. I had to admit that it did feel good, in a sick way, and I started to enjoy the fake intimacy the process offered. I did not flinch nor fight, and Thorin kept his word of not touching me improperly. I realized that I trusted him and willingly came to his arms once he gestured for me to do so, with a knowing and satisfied smile gracing his lips. “Good girl,” he used to say, and my heart trembled with joy of being praised and my body hungrily devoured the touch of his warm skin. Oh, how screwed I was with all my loneliness that these simple gestures and expressions helped to keep at bay!

 The days flowed slowly and placidly and I calmed down. It did not last long though, as the still surface of our ordinary days was stirred by a foreign delegation.

 They came from Rohan one early morning, as I was told, to negotiate possible alliance against the common enemy. After the last battle, the orcs have moved south and were much scarcer in numbers in the lands surrounding Erebor. But that posed possible threat to Rohan.

 I saw them briefly, men on tall horses and in shiny helmets, riding proudly and erect through the main gate, and my heart started to pound violently at the sight of my own race. They dismounted, the horses were led into the stables to be taken care of, and Thorin and his high-ranking generals came out to meet them and exchange greetings. For the first time I saw Thorin wear his crown and was surprised by how regal and official he looked, exact opposite of his normal attire. This must be something big.

 They were staying for several days already, Thorin being out whole day during the negotiations.

 On that particular day, I was performing my duties as normal. I tidied up the king's chambers diligently, and was now sweeping the floor in the corridor where the red carpet did not reach. I heard silent footsteps, and when I turned around, I saw a tall blond-haired man walk by. He glanced at me briefly, and having caught my stare, he stopped and returned in his tracks. He studied me for a few moments suspiciously before speaking:

 “I am afraid I do not know you, my lady.” He bowed his head ever so slightly.

 “Oh, I'm not a lady, as you can see,” I pointed at the broom with a smile. “My lord,” I added quickly and lowered my gaze. My heart was beating wildly with joy that I was speaking to a human, and was flattered at the same time by his display of respect.

 “I see. May I know your name? What are you doing in these dwarven lands? I have not seen here any kin of ours but you.”

 I hesitated for a moment. “I`m Kate Evans,” I explained briefly and suppressed the urge to shake his hand. Instead, I bowed slightly, at which he gave an acknowledging nod. “And… I do the cleaning here… basically.” I bit my lip, which did not escape his attention, for he lifted his chin stubbornly and frowned.

 “Is something wrong with that, Kate Evans?”

 “N-no. I did not catch      your     name...” I tried to change the subject as I felt this was not the proper topic to talk about.

 “I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark,” he saluted, for a moment turning into the shiny soldier that he was. “Where are       you     from and was has led your steps to Erebor? It is most uncommon for humans to serve under dwarf masters in such deep places. And why is your hair shaved off?”

 Those were too many hard questions. I inhaled deeply before trying to explain in the most neutral tone. “From far away, my lord. My fate has led me here. And no, I am not a servant, I am a slave, if that is what you wanted to know. And I disobeyed my master once, so...” I rubbed my hands uncomfortably and looked down to check on my nails. I needed to do that right now.

 “That is most unfortunate,” genuine compassion softened his features. He locked his dark eyes with mine before asking in a husky voice: “Who is your master?”

 “His Majesty.”

 “The King himself?”

 “Yes,” I confirmed.

 Surprised silence fell in the dimly lit corridor and then he nodded. “It was not my knowledge that the dwarves indulged in slavery. But I am sure Thorin would be the most righteous master, by his ways during our negotiations.”

 At those words something inside me broke. I did not know what I had been expecting from this stranger, after all. Stupid me.

 “Indeed.”

 His scrutinising eyes lingered on me a little longer than necessary but then he just turned and briskly walked away.

Notes:        

I fully realise that Éomer was not yet born when this was happening, there are still a few more decades left, but well... He is just too gorgeous to be omitted!

Chapter 18

 I did not see Éomer after that for a few days, until the last evening before the delegation`s actual departure. As far as I overheard, the talks had been a success, and both realms agreed on mutual help and intelligence sharing against the remainder of the orc hordes pillaging the vast plains on the southern borders.

 On that day, Dis stormed in as always to inform me that my presence was needed at the feast to be held tonight. To my question why she explained that a gossip about a human slave in Erebor had spread and the Rohirrim expressed interest in me serving for them tonight.

 “Thorin had agreed to that as a token of goodwill,” she said with an eyebrow lifted high. I swallowed my pride at that and tried to get out of my head the image of me being paraded in front of the foreign soldiers as a caged animal. Nevertheless, Dis sent me to the kitchen where I was instructed how to serve the meals and fill the wine goblets properly. It was not difficult at all, yet I felt nervous for no obvious reason.

 XXX

 The feasting hall spread long and vast with its high ceiling and marbled pillars and walls. They shone with hues of the darkest green and grey with golden veins, invoking uttermost beauty and splendour worth the majestic dwarven kingdom, for all foreign eyes to see. The hall breathed with cold, and I shivered involuntarily. At the long table were seated the horse riders, along with dwarven officials and Thorin at the head of it. Éomer to his right at the beginning of the long line, leaning closer to Thorin in silent chatter as they waited for the dinner to be served. He raised his brown eyes when I and the army of servants marched in, and nodded towards me ever so slightly in a silent greeting. I gave a small curtsy in return and then noticed Thorin watching me with a frown. The evening was starting in a strange manner. I swallowed hard and proceeded to serve the meal to Thorin, and then to Éomer and all the others in the line. Soon after that, the general mood had risen, lifted by the delicious food and wine, and the guests hailed and cheered to Thorin with their chalices held high. I smiled at that and finally started to relax. The evening got on the right track. Although, I did my best to be as quick and invisible as possible when refilling their chalices.

 Later in the evening, after countless litres of spirits had been drunk, Éomer beckoned to me to bring him wine. I obeyed quickly and when I leaned in to pour it in his goblet, I felt a daring hand rub my buttocks. Shocked, I silently cried out and spilled the remainder of the wine in the jar. I glared at him angrily but what I saw in his glistening eyes made me swallow whatever words came to my mind. There was lust, pure lust and dark hunger but they vanished in a split second once he regained his reason and former elegant behaviour.

 “Look what you have done,” he uttered with a smile, and I managed nothing but saying my ”I`m so sorry” while sweeping the table with my snow-white apron. One quick glance at Thorin, who was watching us intently but did not make an effort to step in. I was wondering if he had noticed.

 “This slave of yours is very… unusual,” he said to Thorin lazily, with a half-drunken smile. “How come she has found her place here in the depths of Erebor?”

 “I have found her in the wilderness, she owes me,” Thorin replied, composed, not giving in any more details.

 “Oh, I see,” Éomer murmured. “Would she be available for selling? I know of a suitable place for her tiny hands.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Back in Rohan. I feel she should return among her own. The sunlight would do her good.” I inhaled sharply and looked at Thorin with pleading eyes.      Please don't do it. I will die if this monster gets me.  

 “She is not for sale,” Thorin answered matter-of-factly, in a neutral tone, but I could sense icy coldness between the lines. The threatening coldness which meant a storm approaching. I exhaled.

 “I quite like her,” Éomer did not give up, circling the top of his goblet with his finger casually. He was thinking of something, as if trying to mouth the correct words. A silent battle in his drunken mind. “Would you consider lending her to me for the night?” I gasped at that, terrified, and my hands started to shake. This is the moral man who rode with his back so straight up on his horse? The paragon of noble ways?

 Thorin leant in and frowned even more. More than I even thought possible.

 “Marshal, this slave is  not available for sale nor any other business. She is      mine,” he emphasized gravely and beckoned to me, his glare locked with Éomer`s. I hurried to his side, abandoning the wine stain on the table as it was.

 “Kneel,” he ordered sternly, and I dared not defy him here and now, in front of the staring audience, which already noticed something was happening and their joyful chatter died down. I knelt down on the floor with my hands folded in my lap and eyes downcast, thanking all the gods for the remainder of my hair which fell into my face and hid the stinging red blush which had spread on my cheeks. Thorin patted me on my head and then reached for a plate. He took a honey cookie and held it in front of my lips. I hesitated for a brief startled moment before I opened my mouth for him, and he fed me like a pet, shoving his thumb in my mouth gently so that I could lick it clean. I did as he wished, playing along in his little game of authority above me, imagining I was not there and this was not happening at all. I didn't know who of the two humiliated me more. But at the same time I was thankful for the known evil which Thorin represented. Better him than the blond pretentious jerk.

 “Obedient she is,” Éomer praised and the tip of Thorin’s mouth curved in satisfaction. The chatter rose again as the atmosphere in the hall loosened. No one seemed to be listening any more.

 “Not always, but we have sorted that out already. Have we not?” he leaned in to my ear, as if speaking of a nice little secret.

 “Yes, Your Majesty,”  I whispered, digging my fingernails deep into my palms.

 “Good girl,” he patted me again and then rested his heavy hand at the back of my neck. It felt strangely reassuring. By now I was sitting on my soles between the males, but so close to Thorin that Éomer could not reach me. I think that was Thorin's intention, an elegant solution to a diplomatic disaster. He fed me a few more cookies.

 Éomer was watching us from under his heavy lids. “When you get tired of her, think of me.” He reached for his goblet and grinned. “She would still be a good fuck.”

 Thorin laughed out but his grip on my bare neck tightened. “You have drunk too much tonight, Marshal. Our wine is strong, you do not know what you are saying.”

 Then he turned to me. “You may go and wait in my chambers,” beckoning to a guard who stood nearby to accompany me.

 I stood up abruptly, and throwing a small curtsy towards Thorin and then Éomer, I hurried out of the hall, followed by the guard.

 I was so freaked out that when I entered the chamber, I pressed my back to the door and had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. I did not hear the guard’s heavy footsteps though, and when I opened the door slightly, he peeked at me from the outside questioningly. I closed it again and decided to light the fire in the large fireplace to keep the darkness of the lonely chamber at bay. Then I lay down on the bed, planning to make it up before I left. For the moment, I was more than happy to be guarded and the king's quiet private chamber offered sweet solace to my nerves which I so desperately needed.

Chapter 19

I will have you on your knees

 And the beast I hold within

  Shall be fed with your hungering screams

(lyrics by Dark Funeral)

I awoke in the middle of the night still in Thorin's bed. The peaceful full moon was shining brightly at me from the large window, its silver light spreading quietly across the normally dark chamber. The fire had already died out. I yawned, and still sleepy, realized where I was lying. I stood up abruptly and walked towards the cushioned armchair by the window. I leaned my head comfortably against its back and watched the magnificent windless night in its silence, the shadows of the landscape frozen and not moving. I cuddled further in the armchair, lifting my knees up to my chin, and was thus lulled to sweet sleep.

A soft click of the door made me open my eyes, and then the sound of a key in the keyhole. The door was being locked. Thorin's tall figure stepped into the moonlight, but did not appear less dark. He looked around the room as if searching for something, until his eyes adjusted to the blackness, and I saw his expression change when he spotted me. I realized the moon was shining from behind me so my face must have remained hidden, probably still looking asleep. I quite liked the opportunity it gave me to watch him move unguarded when he thought nobody was watching. He walked towards the bed and took off his upper tunic and boots, leaving all of that casually spread on the ground, then sat on the bed, resting his head in his hands for a good while. He looked tired, his shoulders tense, but there was something strange about him, certain determination, anticipation. He stood up and walked towards my armchair slowly, questioningly. He reached out to touch my hair and cheek, and I realized this was the time I was supposed to wake up.

“Your Majesty,” I jumped, feigning surprise. I stood up quickly and made a small curtsy in a silent greeting. I wanted to thank him for what he did during the evening, but he did not seem to want to start a conversation. Instead, he just nodded, and rested his heavy hand on my shoulder. I could smell sweet wine and scent of leather from him, and it was not an unpleasant sensation. He massaged my shoulder slightly, then moving his attention to the back of my neck, until he finally pulled me towards him as I was already used to. But this time his hand continued to journey across my back until it reached my hip, and I shuddered.

“Your Majesty, I would like to thank you for what you did during...” I said shakily, which earned me his approving grunt while his other hand continued to wander around my behind. “Would you like me to fetch something for you…?”

“It is nothing you can fetch that I want, Kate,” he breathed into my hair, and I shook involuntarily, despite doing my best to fight my rising uneasiness.

All of a sudden, he released me and took a step back. “Now undress,” he said quietly, matter-of-factly. As if it was the most natural thing for me to do in front of him.

I could not believe my ears. “W-what?”

“Un-dress!” came the command in a deep-set growl, and my heart sank at that word. Oh no, please don't do this. I stood there shaking, uncertain what to do, terrified not to disobey and get punished once again, and my brain was working feverishly, trying to find a way out of this, find some excuse, anything.

“Your Majesty… I… I'm sorry to ask, but… what is wrong? You said you would give me time...” I blabbered desperately, squeezing my fingers in front of me in a pleading, uncertain gesture.

“Which I gave you. You have run out of it tonight.”

“But… why? What is different? You said- ”

“Do not make me repeat myself for the second time, Kate!”

“But you said you would wait! And I'm honestly doing my best to obey you, Your Majesty… to serve you as I was taught, I'm not even flinching anymore when you are close, is that not- ”

“You are making a good slave, indeed. But you do not  look  owned!” he growled, and the dark devouring fire which I had once seen sprang in his eyes.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“The foreigner wanted you because you simply look like you do not belong to anybody. I am not contained  in you. I cannot let that happen again. You are mine, and everybody needs to know.” He was becoming more and more passionate as he spoke, and when a soft sob escaped my lips at his words, he asked gravely: “Am I really that hideous that you react in such a manner?”

“No, not at all,” I hurried with my assurance before I could think of any consequences. The tip of his mouth rose in a self-satisfied half-smile, and I mentally cursed.

“So?!”

“I'm sorry, Your Majesty… but… but I just can't...” My voice came in a whisper so silent that I nearly could not hear my own words. By now I was shaking all over my body and a huge lump formed in my throat.

He frowned. His large hand grabbed my throat in the violent promise of strangling, his whole body rising as if he grew twice that tall. The transformation was so menacing that my knees went limp under me and I remained standing just because he was holding my neck in his tight grip. That was too much. I clenched my teeth, and slowly, painstakingly slowly, I rolled the sleeves of my dress down my shoulders. He let go off my throat at that and watched me intently, still on guard. After a few other agonizing seconds I pulled the whole dress down to the ground. I held my hands in front of my private parts though, as futile as it may have looked, to cover whatever dignity I was left, and thankful for the darkness which was partially hiding me. My mouth went dry, and I kept my gaze locked on the floor as if it could help me break any contact with him.

He slid his gaze across my body and then stepping closer, he turned me around so that the moonlight shone directly into my face. He cupped my breast and touched the ugly scars on my belly and thigh. And then on my back, those which he had inflicted himself. “What a shame,” he uttered under his breath, his voice deep velvet, and I gulped when he suddenly grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back. His gaze lingered on the place where the soft hair grew between my thighs, and lay his palm flat against my lower belly. I shivered and felt warmth spread somewhere deep inside. His middle finger traced an imaginary circle on my sensitive skin. I was panting heavily now, and if it was from terror or pleasure I really did not know.

“Are you a virgin, Kate?”

The terror struck me with full force now. I cried out and fought with all my strength to shake his hands off and get away from him, desperately, as if fighting for dear life. But I could not stand his strong arms which pacified me immediately with their iron grip, forcing my hands once again behind my back in an uncomfortable position, just much more painfully now. I could not move unless I hurt myself.

“Answer me!” he stormed, and I started to sob. He gave me a few more seconds, and when I did not speak, he tightened the grip even more. I cried out in pain, then shook my head in defeat. He snarled at that.

“Were you a virgin  before  the orc?”

I shook my head once again, hot tears rolling down my cheeks in streams.

“At least I do not need to be gentle with you. I wanted to fuck you the very same moment I saw you out in the wilderness. Naked, all covered in blood, completely helpless and at my mercy. You were exquisite then, my dear. But I do not want to hold back anymore. I have waited for this for too long.” he finished bitterly.

My eyes widened at those cruel words, and I sobbed out my horror-striken ‘Oh no, please don't do this! Please, I beg you!’.

But he had gone too far to stop now. He loosened the grip just a little and spoke nearly tenderly now. “Do not fight, little one, it will only make things worse for you. And these tears,” he paused for a moment to trace their trails with his thumb, “You look even more beautiful with them. More like yourself, stripped to the bone.”

He leaned in and kissed me deep, pressing his whole body against mine tightly, the thin cloth of his tunic rubbing against my naked skin. And under it, the chiselled muscles of his chest and arms, iron-like, and he felt as solid as a mountain peak. At the edge of my horror-striken mind I realized that I would have appreciated this intense magnetism had this been under different circumstances. He pressed his lips on my neck and traced it with his tongue all the way down to my collar bone, then returned eagerly back to my ear to suckle at my earlobe.  He bit me hungrily, and when I cried out, he moaned, utterly enjoying my torment. Then he forced his knee between my thighs, grabbing me by hips and pressing me hard against the dark leather of his thigh. I started my furious struggle with the impossible. He interlocked his fingers with the hair at the back of my head and pulled down, bending my neck low in such a strange angle that I gasped for breath for a few miserable moments. Watching me closely, his lip drawn up to bare his upper teeth, he loosened the grip for just one breath and then pulled back again. My fingers dug in the cloth of his arms in a desperate attempt to stabilize myself, but to no avail. When I ceased to move, he let me breathe freely. And then all over again. Exhausted, after a few tries I gave up and went limp.

“Calmer now?” he smirked. I didn't even try to answer. “Good.”

Having me where he wanted to have me now, he once again grabbed my hips and positioned me so that I had to either stand on my tiptoes or press my clit against his leg. I did my best to maintain the position to avoid him, and while he was distracting me with hot kisses on my neck, I felt my feet inevitably get tired with every passing second.

“Let go,” he finally hummed, and just pressed me down. I let out a pained sob and he breathed in low whisper: ”Good girl. Relax now.”

And he ran his fingers around my skin in light, feathery movements, stroking my hair, down my breasts and belly, and then up my back and neck. I was utterly confused, panting heavily, and when he slid his hot tongue in my mouth, I realized my own tongue was answering him, moving in his circles as if in a dance. He added a few slow movements of his pelvis and I shuddered at the hot wave it sent through my body. I started to sob anew.

Taking no heed of that, he suddenly lifted me up in the air and headed for the bed. I screamed out and kicked him, taking him by surprise. He swore and let me go, but only for a moment, before he yanked me violently and threw me over his shoulder. He strode to the bed and threw me onto the pillows mercilessly. He took a second to take off his tunic, revealing his wide shoulders and smooth upper body. I struggled on my elbows to back away from him, but he was there again to grab me by the ankle and yanked me back. Then he knelt on the bed and pinning my hands above my head, lay down on me full weight, pressing the huge bulge of erection against my thigh. I whimpered under him in distress, my breath once again taken away by his muscular weight. He rose to support himself on one elbow, and with one free hand unbuckled his pants swiftly, not even bothering to take them off. At this moment, his long hair fell on my face in a dark cascade, and it felt so soft against my skin that I stared up at him in surprise. Our eyes met and what I saw in his icy gaze made me shiver - it was the victory of a hunter.

It was this moment that I realized the inevitable. This time I will not escape, no matter how hard I try.

Grabbing my legs, he forced my knees up so that they were now nearly reaching my ears. He planted a few hot kisses on my inner thighs, then took out his huge member and positioned himself in between. He pressed the tip of his stone-hard cock against my entrance and I whimpered in the anticipation of pain.

He moaned. “You`re all wet for me, little one.”

In one deliberate motion, he rammed his entire length into me, causing me to flinch and cry out at the searing pain. He waited for a few seconds to let me adjust to the impossible thickness, which was obviously not enough, and moved several times in a circular direction. Then he pulled his cock out of me and rammed it all the way in again, causing me to cry out even louder. I was sobbing openly now.

“You are so deliciously tight,” he growled in between the thrusts, keeping a quicker but steady rhythm. “You could convince me you are still a virgin.” Embarrassed, violated and in pain, I closed my eyes, turned away and tried to pretend I was not there and nothing of this was happening.

At that he stopped to move. “Look at me,” he commanded sternly.

When I refused to obey, he bit my neck so hard that I gasped, opening my eyes in shock.

Now he decided to lick and pinch both my nipples, and to my utter dismay, despite all the burning pain in my tunnel, I felt a hot ecstatic wave roll over my body, all the way down to my core. I bit my lip to suppress the sudden urge to moan.  I cannot let him know.  He resumed fucking me, only harder than before, sliding in and out of me with all the accompanying wet noises, and by his low grunts I could say he was close to his climax. A few more thrusts and he growled his release into my hair. I felt his cock move and twitch inside of me as he spasmed, riding out his orgasm.

Now he pulled his cock out, and I felt his warm seed spill between my thighs. And then on the clean blanket I had changed in the morning. I was all wet and slithery, and felt dirty in all the possible ways.

Thorin knelt on the bed, still panting, and tilted his head to a side, to look at his work. Teary, ravaged, shaking. Desperate.

“Now that looks better,” he said with a soft smile on his lips, as he gently traced my tear-stained cheek with his finger. “A well-behaving, obedient slave.” And he finally liberated himself from his pants, threw them on the ground, and lay down on his back next to me.

I shakily struggled to sit up. My womb, throat and wrists were all hurting and my head felt dizzy. I put my trembling feet on the floor.  I need to get rid of your seed.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked leisurely.

I froze. “To wash myself, Your Majesty.”

“You should not roam around Erebor at night alone, not until the horse riders leave today morning. Stay here, Kate.” When I shrank, he added thoughtfully: “I will not touch you again tonight.”  He seemed to actually mean it.

I did not answer. I pondered on his words for a while but was too exhausted to even maintain my sitting position, not to speak about walking or fighting him any longer, so I lay down again on the other end of the bed, as far from Thorin as possible. I covered myself with the blanket and turned my back to him.

After a while I heard his silent breath become steady as he fell asleep. That was when I curled up with my knees up to my chin and started to sob, silently and bitterly. Sharing the king's bed, but still all alone.

XXX

  The orc was approaching me with an ever increasing speed. I turned around to run, but my feet sank deep in the ground as it devoured me, bit by bit, having turned into a lake of stinking mud. I screamed for help as he neared me, unsheathing his rusty weapon, and as I struggled for dear life to get out of the mud, it only sucked me in more quickly. The orc stood by me now, grinning victoriously, and leaned in to take a closer look at me.

I screamed my lungs out.

“Wake up, Kate!”

Darkness, absolute darkness in which also the full moon remained hidden behind the clouds.

I felt something near me stir and close in.

I screamed once again and shot out of whatever I was lying on but was immediately pulled back by an invisible hand.

“It was just a dream, Kate! Bad dream. Wake up now!” I heard a familiar voice whisper and then felt a hand on my shoulder, squeezing and rubbing me gently as he spoke. I burst into tears and threw myself in the arms of the figure next to me, crying hysterically, shaking violently between the sobs.

“It's the orc again!”

“I know, you spoke from your sleep. Hush now, little one, it was just a dream. Just a bad dream,” he spoke as he closed his arms around me and planted soft kisses on my forehead and eyelids. “All will be good in the morning.”

“But what if he returns?”

“Then I will scare him away and hunt him down to all ends of Arda.”

“Thank you, you are so kind.”

And he lay me down again, whoever he was, pulling me in his tight embrace as he spread on his back. I put my head on his chest, still sobbing, grabbing at his long locks as fits of crying shook me. I heard his steady heart beat powerfully, and was lulled into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 20

 I awoke lying on my side. My head was hurting from the crying, my eyelids swollen, and I felt all shattered and in pain. As my blurred mind began to remember what happened at night, I suddenly realised where I actually was, and when I tried to turn around to check if Thorin was still there, I noticed a muscular hand resting heavily around my waist. He was pressed against my body full length and felt very warm in the chilly morning air. I needed to pee. And I needed to wash his juices off me, above all.

 Now, wide awake, I wondered how to stand up and not wake him up at the same time. I slightly wriggled but then froze as I felt him breathe out more loudly and his hand stir on my waist. A few more seconds, and to my utmost horror, it silently moved to my hip and traced my thigh. I felt something hard press against my buttocks and I whimpered.

 “Lie still,” Thorin whispered in my ear, his voice still hoarse from the sleep.

 His large hand cupped my breast and lazily continued all the way down to my stomach.

 “Nei, vaer så snill*... I'm sore from yesterday, Your Majesty… ” I tried my luck, and already felt a lump forming in my throat.      Not again, please.  

 “It will pass,” he hummed, and took my hair out of the way to bare the back of my neck. He pressed his lips to the soft skin and planted on it a few slow kisses, taking his time with me.

 At my second unsure “Please don't”, he laughed out, and to show me how irrelevant my pleas were, just flipped me over to my back and supporting himself on one arm, continued to explore my body. He laid his palm flat against my intimate parts and leaned in to kiss me.

 Just then, there was a knock on the door.

 Thorin swore and never letting go off me, shouted: “What?!”

 From behind the door came a hushed guard`s voice: “Marshal of the Riddermark wishes to speak to you before they depart, Your Majesty.”

 There was a dark sparkle in Thorin's eye as he looked down at me. He ran his finger through my hair absent-mindedly, pondering on the possibilities of the encounter. Then he smirked and whispered his “Stay here,” as he pulled the blanket up to my neck. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his leather pants from the floor where he had left them yesterday, and put them on. I watched his naked torso move in the dim morning light, the chiseled muscles of his upper arms working, but then averted my gaze bitterly.

 “Bring him in!”

 The guard`s footsteps echoed in the hall as he walked away. And then once again, the sound doubled, stopping in front of the door. Thorin unlocked and opened it wide, standing in the gape as a tower with his chin proudly outstretched.

 “Marshal.”

 Éomer, clad in full armour, stared at Thorin from under his high silver helmet. He looked tired with dark circles under his eyes but struggled it with a certain dignity, now that he regained his former regal countenance. His gaze slid from half-naked Thorin towards me lying on the bed. He swallowed hard.

 “Thorin. You did not come down to see us off. I wonder if it was because of the last night or because we are leaving this early,” he paused for a second, and when Thorin did not reply, he continued his speech. “I wish to part with you in friendship, for the sake of both our realms. Let me assure you I remain Lady Dis` humble servant.”

 “The friendship stays as it was, Éomer. No disruptions.” Thorin smirked, glancing towards me over his shoulder.

 “I am glad to hear that. May I apologise to your slave as well?”

 Thorin nodded briefly and stepped away to unblock the entrance. Éomer walked in the chamber and strode towards the bed, his footsteps heavy, his armour clinking as he walked. I shrank under the blanket, feeling my cheeks turning deep red. To my utter astonishment, he knelt on one knee and bowing his head, spoke to me.

 “I am sorry for my behaviour last night. I did not mean to insult you, nor do any harm to you. I deeply regret that, my lady.” And before I could open my mouth to speak, he took my hand and pressed his lips to it in a gentle manner. “I shall be forever grateful if you forgive me.” He let my hand go and waited with his head bowed.      Oh fuck, just like some Lancelot.  

 “Yes… umm, I mean… I accept your apology.” What a diplomatic answer.

 He immediately stood up, bowed his head slightly, and walked out of the chamber. He turned around at the door and glanced back at me and then at Thorin.

“I wish you well. May both Mahal and Béma* protect you.”

 “Fare well, Éomer. We shall meet again soon under merrier circumstances.”

 “Aye.” Éomer nodded and strode away. I could hear the echo of his heavy footsteps as Thorin closed the door again, smirking.

 “I would not wish to be in his shoes now, with such a hangover. What a pleasant journey he will have,” he said nonchalantly while grabbing his boots from the floor where he had left them the night before. He entered his closet and after a while walked out dressed in a fresh dark blue tunic over linen pants.

 “You may dress now.”

 As I stood up tiredly to do as he had said, he strolled to the table and reached for a carafe. He poured some wine mixed with water into a tall chalice and drank eagerly. Then he refilled it and turned towards me.

 “Drink.”

 I dressed in my rumpled dress as quickly as I possibly could, happy to finally have some clothes to cover myself with. Then I took the offered chalice from his hand. I hesitated briefly before bringing it to my cracked lips. Wine on an empty stomach, never a good choice. But then again, why not.      Screw it. I need it anyway.  

 Thorin was watching me intently from under his lashes as I drank. When I emptied the glass, he took it from me and lay it on the table. I looked at him questioningly.

 “You can take the bath you asked for last night. Come,” he said placidly as he opened the door and motioned for me to join him.

 Notes:        

Nei, vaer så snill. - Please don`t. (Norwegian) Béma - the Rohirrim venerated the Vala Oromë the Hunter, whom they called Béma

Chapter 21

 Not knowing what to expect, I followed him hesitantly through the corridor. At the end, he turned to the left and then several more times until we reached a distant passage I had not visited before. It was all dark stone with silvery veins but the walls were rough and any carpet was missing. I was wondering what he meant by a bath, so far I had seen no bathtubs in whole Erebor as far as I could go. I only washed myself in a wash basin during my stay.

 Finally, Thorin stood in front of large, ordinary-looking door. He opened it with a creak and a wave of hot humid air steamed out from the inside. He stepped in and turned back to me with his hand outstretched:

 “Come in, Kate, you will like it.”

 What I saw first in the room were three large pools sunken in the ground in what reminded me of the ancient Greco-Roman style, with stone stairs leading down inside. The floor was of polished stone tiles of sandy shades such as the walls, and as I stepped in barefoot, I realised in astonishment it was all warm as if underlain with underfloor heating. There were a few shelves with bath necessities scattered around the room. The air was filled with warm, intoxicating incense, and natural light was coming in from some hidden source.

 I exhaled. Such pampering beauty in such a harsh place! For a moment I forgot my troubles and drank in the soothing atmosphere.

 “I didn't know something like this existed in Erebor,” I uttered under my breath, my eyes fixed on the nearest pool on which rim lay a few filigran bottles of what looked like precious oils and bars of soap. I could swear I smelled subtle scent of roses even here.

 “The pools are filled with thermal water, we have a few springs originating here under the mountain. And, of course, the River Running,” he paused as he grabbed a towel from a nearby shelf. “They are of real value especially in winters such as this. The waters are then used for heating in the lower chambers. They are allowed to circulate until they thoroughly cool. A true masterwork of our builders,” Thorin explained proudly.

 I knelt next to the closest pool impatiently and sank my hand in it. It was very hot and I immediately withdrew it with a grin.

 Thorin smiled. “Try the one in the middle. They are of different temperatures.”

 I took a few steps to the right and sank my foot in the water. It felt pleasantly warm, and I suddenly no longer cared who was present at that moment. I took off my dress in a second, threw it on the ground and walked down a flight of steps into the pool. I waited a few more seconds to adjust to the temperature and then fully submerged into the water, withholding my breath. Dull, echoing silence embraced me, and I enjoyed it to the fullest.

 When I reluctantly resurfaced and wiped the water from my eyes, I saw Thorin had already entered the same pool. He was leaning against the pool wall with his eyelids half-closed, his hair and skin all wet, resting, not seeming to care about me. I decided to ignore him and enjoy this treatment as much as I possibly could. I walked towards the far end rim and took a soap which lay there prepared along with neatly piled towels and sheets of various sizes. I turned my back to Thorin and indulged in carefully washing my skin, my hair, my womb. I took particular care in cleansing the latter. I submerged once again in the water and took my place opposite the stairs into the pool, as far from Thorin as possible. Then I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of total void in my head. I felt the wine I had drunk a few moments ago hitting my head, the effect boosted by the heat of the bath. I hummed to myself in silent approval.

 I heard the water splash, and when I opened my eyes again, Thorin was standing in front of me with wide grin on his face. Slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, ever-so-gently. I shuddered, and he tucked a strand thread of my hair behind my ear. The little gesture was so intimate and caring that I wondered if this was the same man as last night.

 “What do you want from me? What do you      really     want?” I shot honestly without thinking.

 He withdrew immediately and our gaze locked for a few long seconds. He blinked a few times, then leaned in again so close I could feel his breath on my skin, and said, his eyes deeply penetrating me.

 “I want you to spread your legs for me willingly, freely, and enjoy it as much as I do.”

 My breath hitched in my throat and it took a lot of effort for me to remain calm. “You know I can't do it.”

 “Yes you can. And you will.” He played with my wet hair as he spoke, so close now he literally pinned me to the pool wall. His powerful body pressed against mine in the hot water.

 “How do you want it this time, Kate?”

 “I don't want it at all,” I whispered.

 “Do not lie to me. How do you want it this time, I asked.”

 He pressed against me even harder, placing both of his hands on the pool rim, having me trapped in between. Alright then, I thought desperately. So be it. Maybe I will be lucky to finish it before it even starts. And without a warning, I grabbed his mighty erection and started to stroke it fervently, up and down, mechanically, shamelessly and efficiently. He moaned in surprise and stopped whatever he was planning to do, enjoying my attention with his eyes closed and lips parted. More sure now, I started to stroke him faster, and that was when he opened his eyes and tilted his head in a sudden realisation.

 “Oh no, not this way, sweet one.” He groaned, liberating his member from my grip and placing my hand around his waist. “Let me rephrase my question. What do you want me to do to you?”

 I shuddered once again. I looked up at him, in his sky-blue eyes now darkened with determination and the air of finality of his decision, and knew nothing more could be done, not even this time. I felt the intoxicating effect of the wine combined with sleep deprivation, the warmth of both Thorin towering above me, radiating strength and health, and the water infused with precious oils, and I was so exhausted that suddenly my head felt dizzy and I no longer cared. I swallowed hard.

 “Be gentle. Be as gentle as you can, please.” I heard myself say against all reason, as if from a distance, and could not believe the pleading, unsure voice which had spoken the invitation belonged to me.

 “No more fighting?”

 I just shook my head tiredly. At that, he leaned in and claimed my mouth, slowly, deeply, passionately, taking his time with me. His hands wandered around my body in large circles and I felt myself melting as an ice cube thrown into fire. A soft moan escaped my lips and he groaned into my mouth at that. He withdrew and placed butterfly kisses on my neck and ears, and it was so hard to resist the sensations it sent through my core that I shivered and dug my nails deep into his skin. He looked deep into my eyes and without a warning lifted me in the water so that it came splashing out of the pool, pressing me against the wall with a low gurgling grunt. I whimpered in distress, but he kissed my lips gently.

 “I will not enter you now, trust me.” He waited for a few seconds for his words to sink in, and then added. “Just wrap your legs around me.”

 Hesitantly, I did as he said, and he rubbed against my intimate parts, slowly and self-cautiously. His wet hair got in between our lips as he pressed them again against mine and I brushed it away with my free hand, feeling my last conscious blocks dissolving in the thick humid air.

Screw it, screw it all. I don't care, just for now.  

He continued to caress me, here and there planting soft kisses on my shoulder and along the collarbone, his narrow hips rested against mine, foreshadowing what might be coming later, still and unmoving, only occasionally suggesting a slight thrust forward. I realised my breath quickened and was coming in shallow gasps now, and I wondered how long he will be able to withhold his suppressed desire. He was squeezing me with more force now and his face turned to the mask of terrible, all-devouring hunger. His teeth were bruising my lips as he kissed me, and at one moment I whimpered in pain. At that, he withdrew from me, panting heavily, scrutinising me for a brief moment, and I thought that was the moment he would take me with full force. Instead, to my utter astonishment, he let go off me, putting my legs carefully back on the tiled pool floor, and lifted himself out of the pool, supported only by his arms. He rested for a few moments with his head slightly bowed as if to compose himself, then he stood up and walked to a shelf from which he grabbed a large towel. He carelessly rubbed himself dry, then took another one along with a bottle of what looked like some oil and walked back towards me. I noticed his massive erection even from here as he strode, his wet hair flowing down his muscled wide arms and chest. There were also a few scars and the latest, already healed nasty wound, which reached from under his armpit straight down to the ribs. The memory of the last battle. I had actually never seen him all naked in full light, and my breath hitched at the embodiment of the manly beauty.

 Aware of my wide stare, he squatted by the pool with a self-conscious smirk. He took me by hips and arms and in one powerful movement pulled me out of the pool, backwards, so that I lay on my back on the tiled floor. It was surprisingly warm and reminded me of a tepidarium used in modern sauna worlds. I let my body absorb the dry warmth as my tense muscles started to relax, along with a few strokes of Thorin's hand around my face, breasts and belly. Then he pulled me to a sitting position, and to my surprise, reached out for the second towel to rub me dry. Gently, soothingly he brought it to my face, hair and body, and did not stop until my legs and feet were dry too. He gestured for me to make room between my thighs, and I obeyed. Without even looking, he pressed the towel gently at my womanhood, never breaking the eye contact with me. The softest moan escaped my lips and he smiled with satisfaction. I felt blood rise into my cheeks.

 “Have no shame, my sweet one,” he whispered under his breath before licking at my neck. Then he gently pushed his hot tongue inside my ear, playfully, and this time I moaned loudly at the sensation and to my utter dismay, realised my thighs were shaking violently from the desire. I could not hold it away from him anymore, and he knew it full well.

 He reached out for the bottle, poured a few drops of its contents into his palms and rubbed them together. He then brought them to my shoulders and ran his fingers across my muscles, here and there giving a few light squeezes. The moisture was indeed scented oil, relaxing and intoxicating at the same time, and I could swear I felt in it subtle tones of a rose, lavender and some exotic flowers I did not recognize. He slowly pushed me back to lie on the floor. His hands continued their journey along my breasts, belly and down to my legs, and I shivered as he traced my feet and soles and massaged them softly, applying extra oil.

 The king tending to his slave`s feet, how absurd.

 Then he returned upwards, and spreading my legs gently, let the oil drop on my clit and flow further down to the floor. He brought his index finger down and traced my core with one feathery movement. At that, my back arched high and I moaned loudly, digging my fingernails in my palms. This earned me his deep-set growl, as he pushed the bottle aside, and mounted me quickly, settling himself between my wide-spread thighs.

 I no longer cared. I no longer thought. All I knew was I wanted my release, the little joy I believed I had earned after the long months of fear and inner pain, and if this joy was to come from Thorin, my goddamn captor, then so be it.

 He leaned in to ravish my mouth hungrily, then withdrew to take a good look at me, spread under him, a willing, waiting woman with passion in her eyes, and his features softened for a brief moment, before turning fiercer again. Holding my hips in place with one hand, with the other supporting himself, he placed the tip of his erection against my core and entered me in one strong, resolute movement. I gasped at the sudden intrusion, but he stopped briefly to wait for my walls to adjust to his enormous size. Then he resumed his movements and claimed me in long, deep and slow thrusts, his features all lust and passion finally unleashed. I was still sore from the last night, and the subtle burning pain reminded me very well of how very different the act felt this time, for as he continued to move inside of me, the pain subsided and turned into a brand new feeling - ecstasy in wild abandon. I writhed and moaned under him, as his thrusts became deeper and faster, his own breath coming along with growls as he rode me, the beast in him never taking over the control, as was seen in his determined features. At one moment he looked down at me and grunted:

 “Come for me, my sweet one.”

 And he bit me in the neck, more teasingly than fiercely, as he continued to ride me, and I felt my climax approaching rapidly. A few more powerful thrusts, and a hot wave of sweet pleasure rolled over me as I came wildly, washing away all my distress, fear and anger which had built in me over the months, and I released a loud tortured cry. Never giving me time to recover, he lifted my legs high above my hips to support them on his shoulders and rammed his cock inside me once again, thrusting in and out wildly, claiming his ownership of me. Finally, he growled deeply and came hard into me, and I felt his cock throb and twitch in my tight tunnel. Then he stilled and remained nestled between my legs for a few moments, resting on me, panting.

 Finally, he stroked my cheek with his thumb and pulled out, seating himself next to me. I rolled over to one side with my back to him, still panting, powerless, exhausted, pleased and utterly lost in a thousand contradictory emotions. Tears stung in my eyes, and I did not know why exactly I was crying this time.

 This man. I loathed him and at the same time was thankful for the joy he had just brought to me, however insane it sounded.

 He interrupted my train of thought by whispering from behind my back: “You will have to take another bath, it seems.”

 I glared at him.

 “You too!” forgetting I was actually being rude to the king, but did not care.

 He did not seem to be bothered by that as he stood up and strode towards the pool. I struggled to a sitting position, my head even more dizzy than before, then stood up clumsily, realising my legs were shaking.

 Seeing that, without a single word, Thorin returned to me, lifted me in his arms and carried me into the pool, watching his steps carefully not to slip. There, to my utter shock, he washed me himself, bringing the cloth gently between my thighs, cleaning thoroughly the remains of our encounter, and I could not help the feeling he was thus making up for the horrors of the last night.

 Did he feel guilty though? I could not tell.

Chapter 22

Right thereafter, Thorin led me to the dining room. I asked him if I could instead go to my chamber and get some sleep but he insisted that I eat first. I followed him to the room on the highest floor from where I used to take the breakfast for him. It used to be empty at early dawn, but this time I was taken aback to meet Dis who had been seated at the far end of the table. Her eyebrow rose as she saw us enter the room side by side, our hair all wet, and the expression made her resemble Thorin so much that I stopped dead in my tracks.

 “Sister! Good morning,” said Thorin, smiling. He walked towards her and bent down to kiss her cheek.

 “Thorin, good to see you! Join me and make up for your neglecting me all those mornings past,” she smiled back at him, pointing to a few empty chairs. Thorin chose the one opposite her and sat down heavily.

 “Would you mind a little company? My little slave would like to join us for breakfast,” he said playfully and gestured for me to come closer. I slightly bowed towards Dis.

 “Of course, good morning, Kate. Come and sit down.”

 “Good morning, my lady.”

 There were three free chairs separating the siblings, and I chose to sit on the one in the middle, right in between them. I folded my hands in my lap and watched them in a silent, tired anticipation, hoping we would finish soon so that I could retire.

 Thorin reached for a richly decorated plate and as a darwish maid marched in balancing other plates full of delicacies in her arms, he ordered her to bring me strong coffee first. The maid bowed and disappeared immediately. She was back in a minute, placing in front of me a cup of freshly brewed coffee, and an empty plate so that I could choose whatever I wanted. I put two spoons of sugar in it and inhaled the aroma deeply. My first coffee after… how long was it, after all? I could not remember.

 The royal siblings continued in an agreeable chatter, but I did not listen to them. My stomach was all shrunken, so after a while I just tried a few sips of my coffee. It tasted most delicious, and an unwanted memory of me and my friends sitting in my favourite cafe back in Bergen flashed in front of my eyes. My past life. It was now that it was out of reach that I could finally appreciate it, the little unimportant choices I could enjoy freely, and my problems which at that time looked enormous, were but futile issues of a spoiled child.

 “ - how pale she has turned. You should not be that demanding, Thorin. Have some mercy on her.”

 “You do not need to worry, sister. It is nothing a few more hours of sleep would not make up for. Besides, she is learning quickly. I do not think any more harder handling will be needed.”

 I lifted my eyes from the steaming coffee. Are they really discussing me as if I was not there listening? Decency of the Durins was certainly not something I could count on. But right now, I did not really care. The sounds and images came to me as if through a thick haze, owing to the wine, my troubled and exhausted mind, and all I wanted was to just be released and shut myself out in my chamber and make the whole world disappear for at least a millennium. And, most importantly, come to terms with the recent events.

 “Oh no, I know you too well, Thorin, you are enjoying this too much. Have her rest properly, have her eat properly, show her how kind you can be, how we all know you. Do not let her wither and or die trying to escape again, you do not want that, after all.”

 Thorin was listening to his sister with a slight frown, but he appeared not angered, but rather amused by her scolding.

 “You speak as if you were older than me, Dis,” he smirked, reaching out for another piece of cheese. Then he waved her complaints away. “As I said, she is making good progress and just needs time to process it all and adapt. Do not worry about that. What needs to be dealt with though are her nightmares. She is deeply troubled, even after all this time.” He glanced at me briefly before turning to his sister again.

 How the hell did he know?! I had not spoken of them to anyone, there was no way he could have…

 “What nightmares?”

 “Of the orcs attacking. I doubt she will ever sleep peacefully unless she gets over those. She woke up thrice last night screaming. It has been more than six months since I brought her here, sister, that is not a good sign at all.”

 “Oh,” Dis threw a sympathetic glance at me. “There should still be a way to help her cope with her past.”

 “Perhaps.”

 “Teach me how to fight.” My palm shot up to my mouth immediately to cover it. I had not realized what I was saying before I uttered the quick words.

 There were a few moments of awkward silence before Thorin spoke again, surprised.

 “The art is not taught to everybody that simply, and especially not to the lower ranking subjects. What do you expect from it, Kate?”

 “To be able to defend myself, under any circumstances, Your Majesty. If you grant me that wish, I would like to at least try.”

 “Let her try, Thorin, it will do her good,” Dis rushed in to help.

 Thorin took a deep breath and then, having come to a conclusion, said thoughtfully.

 “Very well, fight what you fear, Kate. Face the enemy within and turn your pain to hate, it will make you stronger. It might even help you regain your courage.” He paused for a long moment, his eyes turning to a distant point of his past which I could not reach nor comprehend. They flickered with a dark consuming fire before it died out again. “I will have somebody teach you how to fight. After all, you have earned it. With a sword, perhaps, or a sax, the axe would be too heavy for you. What do you say to that? A sword or a sax, which one do you prefer?” He leaned in as he shook off his memories, the tiny flame of amusement springing in his eyes now.

 My jaw dropped. The first actual thought was “      Whatever small to help me stab you in the heart at night    ” but naturally, I had to swallow it. What came out of my mouth was what they had expected, I think.

 “I do not know what a sax is, Your Majesty.”

 “A broad-blade knife, or a short sword, depending on its length. It is a better choice for your tiny hands.”

 “Then let it be the sax, thank you,” I answered blankly, hunching over my cup once again. Whatever, really. But I already felt the boosting effect of coffee as the cloud over my mind started lifting.

 Dis laughed out amused, pushing a plate with a few pieces of cake in front of me as she spoke. “This reminds me of      my     first lesson back when I was ten. I like the sax, it is a small weapon but deadly nonetheless. You will learn to fight like a dwarvish warrior, Kate, what an honour!”

 I managed a tired smile at her. “Oh, is it?”

 “Of course! And have some cake, dear, you need to eat something,” she urged me, bringing her cup of tea to her lips.

 The conversation had turned again to some unimportant topics for which I was grateful. At least they did not pay any more attention to me and I could enjoy the meal. After I had eaten everything from the plate which Dis pushed in front of me, Thorin gracefully dismissed me.

 “Go and have some rest. I will not expect your service tomorrow morning, so you may sleep longer and recover your strength.” I thanked him and as I did my curtsy before leaving, he added: “From now on, you may use the baths freely and without any company.”

 At this, my heart jumped with joy, and I sent him a genuine smile, because it really made me happy. After how long, I could not remember. Perhaps I had become too numb to certain feelings, this is what Erebor made of me.

 “Thank you so much!” I made another curtsy, not knowing how else to thank him. It is so strange that these little acts of kindness can make such a big difference, and now I was more than ready to welcome them, parched as I was for humanity.

 He smiled back at me, the carefree and enchanting young expression returning once again to his features, but then he waved me away impatiently, obviously having something else on his mind to be discussed with his sister.

 Just after I crossed the threshold, he returned to her, his voice was grave as he offered a strange solution:

 “You have certainly heard of the events at the feast. We do not have to do this, Dis, there is still time to take back your word before the preparations begin. I will not have you unhappy for the rest of your life.”

 “But what other choice do we have, Thorin?”

 “We can still find some other ally, albeit from a longer distance,” he spoke softly.

 “You know there are no other suitable options, unless you want me to marry an elf. Oh no, do not tempt me, not now that I have finally said yes. He might still be a barbarian who dares to bully slaves, but he will not dare to intimidate a lady. And if something goes wrong, I will return, he cannot hold me there by force. For the sake of Erebor. I might even have children once again...” she stopped as her voice broke.

 “Dis… ”

I did not hear more as the rest of the strange conversation died out when I hurried away through the dimly lit corridor.

(to be continued here and in my AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiah81/works)

#thorin #thorin oakenshield x oc #angst #non-con #non-canon #post-botfa #smut #hurt/comfort #dom/sub undertone #dark thorin #master/slave #possessive thorin #protective thorin #dubious consent #slavery #hobbit fanfiction

[salixj]

UPDATED: An eight-year-old Swedish-American girl came across an exciting find swimming at her local lake, when she pulled an ancient sword from its depths.

"It's not every day that one steps on a sword in the lake!" Mikael Nordström from Jönköpings Läns Museum said when explaining the significance of the find.

But that's exactly what happened to Saga Vanecek, who found the relic at the Vidöstern lake in Tånnö, Småland earlier this summer.

"I was outside in the water, throwing sticks and stones and stuff to see how far they skip, and then I found some kind of stick," Saga told The Local.

"I picked it up and was going to drop it back in the water, but it had a handle, and I saw that it was a little bit pointy at the end and all rusty. I held it up in the air and I said 'Daddy, I found a sword!' When he saw that it bent and was rusty, he came running up and took it," she continued.

The water at the lake by the family's summer house was low this year due to drought, which may have been part of the reason Saga was able to reach the sword. Because of this, the family was putting a buoy out in the lake to warn other boats of an underwater slab of concrete which was dangerous in the low water levels.

"I asked Saga to bring the buoy, but she was taking her time like a kid does, playing in the water," her father, Andy Vanecek, recalled. "I was getting impatient because the World Cup game was about to start!"

At first he thought his daughter had found a stick or a branch, but realized from the way it bent that it could be a sword -- although even then, he thought it could be a modern toy. The family asked their neighbours and one of Vanecek's colleagues, who has an interest in history and archaeology, and they said the relic was likely authentic and should be reported to authorities, which the Vaneceks did.

It was initially reported that the sword was at least 1,000 years old, but the museum later contacted The Local to clarify that they believe it may be even older, estimated to date back to the 5th or 6th century AD, pre-Viking Age. The find has prompted huge interest from archaeologists and historians.

"It's about 85 centimentres long, and there is also preserved wood and metal around it," explained Mikael Nordström from the museum. "We are very keen to see the conservation staff do their work and see more of the details of the sword."

Anyone hoping to see the sword will have to wait at least a year, Nordström told The Local, explaining: "The conservation process takes quite a long time because it's a complicated environment with wood and leather, so they have several steps to make sure it's preserved for the future."

"Why it has come to be there, we don't know," he said. "When we searched a couple of weeks ago, we found another prehistoric object; a brooch from around the same period as the sword, so that means – we don't know yet – but perhaps it's a place of sacrifice. At first we thought it could be graves situated nearby the lake, but we don't think that any more."

The sword has prompted teams including museum staff to carry out further searches in the area, though none have resulted in such an important find. The first led to the discovery of the brooch but the oldest object found in the second search, on Wednesday, was a coin from the 18th century.

"We asked Saga [not to tell anyone about the sword] because we were afraid that if this find would go public too soon, there would be a lot of people there, perhaps destroying our possibility to find things later," he added.

Saga confirmed to The Local that the only person she told was her best friend, who she really trusts. Thursday was the first day she could reveal her story to her classmates, and her teacher threw a party to celebrate, handing out ice creams and showing Saga's TV and radio interviews to the class.

"They thought that it was very fun and interesting to know about my story," said Saga.

"I think maybe I found it harder to keep secret than she did," her father added. "It's cool that it will be in a museum and it might even say 'Saga's sword' and it might be there for thousands of years. We didn't put it on Facebook or anything until yesterday, and now it's really blowing up!"

He said that several friends had joked that the discovery made Saga the new Queen of Sweden, a conclusion also drawn by many of The Local's readers.

However, the eight-year-old's experience hasn't made her want to pursue a career in archaeology, saying she currently hopes to be a doctor, vet, or an actress in Paris, although she does enjoy learning about "old stuff".

She moved to Småland only last year, having grown up in Minneapolis in her father's home state of Minnesota, USA. The family moved back to Sweden in 2017 to be closer to the maternal side of Saga's family.

"The cool thing is that I'm a huge Minnesota Vikings fan, and this looks just like a Viking sword!" said Vanecek.

As for whether Saga will be involved in future projects or receive a reward for her discovery, the case has now been handed over to the National Archives of Sweden, who will be responsible for making the decision.

#Sweden #archaeology

[atlanticcanada]

Crisis deepens, Ukraine accuses Moscow of 'medieval' tactics

The humanitarian crisis in Ukraine deepened Monday as Russian forces intensified their shelling and food, water, heat and medicine grew increasingly scarce, in what the country condemned as a medieval-style siege by Moscow to batter it into submission.

A third round of talks between the two sides ended with a top Ukrainian official saying there had been minor, unspecified progress toward establishing safe corridors that would allow civilians to escape the fighting. Russia's top negotiator said he expects those corridors to start functioning Tuesday.

But that remained to be seen, given the failure of previous attempts to lead civilians to safety amid the biggest ground war in Europe since World War II.

WATCH: Paul Workman as Lviv braces for attack

Latest updates on Russia-Ukraine

'Z' symbol on Russian tanks: What does it mean?

Russian President Vladimir Putin's forces continued to pummel cities with rockets, and fierce fighting raged in places.

In one of the most desperate cities, the encircled southern port of Mariupol, an estimated 200,000 people were hoping to flee, and Red Cross.

The city is short on water, food and power, and cellphone networks are down. Stores have been looted as residents search for essential goods.

Police moved through the city, advising people to remain in shelters until they heard official messages broadcast over loudspeakers to evacuate.

Hospitals in Mariupol are facing desperate shortages of antibiotics and painkillers, and doctors performed some emergency procedures without them.

The lack of phone service left anxious citizens approaching strangers to ask if they knew relatives living in other parts of the city and whether they were safe.

In the capital, Kyiv, soldiers and volunteers have built hundreds of checkpoints, often using sandbags, stacked tires and spiked cables. Some barriers looked significant, with heavy concrete slabs and sandbags piled more than two stories high, while others appeared more haphazard, with hundreds of books used to weigh down stacks of tires.

"Every house, every street, every checkpoint, we will fight to the death if necessary," said Mayor Vitali Klitschko.

In Kharkiv, Ukraine's second-largest city, heavy shelling slammed into apartment buildings.

"I think it struck the fourth floor under us," Dmitry Sedorenko said from his Kharkiv hospital bed. "Immediately, everything started burning and falling apart." When the floor collapsed beneath him, he crawled out through the third floor, past the bodies of some of his neighbors.

Klitschko reported in a Telegram video address that fierce battles continued in the Kyiv region, notably around Bucha, Hostomel, Vorzel and Irpin.

In the Irpin area, which has been cut off from electricity, water and heat for three days, witnesses saw at least three tanks and said Russian soldiers were seizing houses and cars.

A few miles away, in the small town of Horenka, where shelling reduced one area to ashes and shards of glass, rescuers and residents picked through the ruins as chickens pecked around them.

"What are they doing?" Vasyl Oksak, a rescue worker, asked of the Russian attackers. "There were two little kids and two elderly people living here. Come in and see what they have done."

Russian forces also continued their offensive in Mykolaiv, opening fire on the city some 480 kilometers (300 miles) south of Kyiv, according to Ukraine's military. Rescuers said they were putting out fires caused by rocket attacks in residential areas.

At The Hague, Netherlands, Ukraine pleaded with the International Court of Justice to order a halt to Russia's invasion, saying Moscow is committing widespread war crimes.

(CTV News map by Jasna Baric)

Russia "is resorting to tactics reminiscent of medieval siege warfare, encircling cities, cutting off escape routes and pounding the civilian population with heavy ordnance," said Jonathan Gimblett, a member of Ukraine's legal team.

Russia snubbed the court proceedings, leaving its seats in the Great Hall of Justice empty.

Efforts to set up safe passage for civilians over the weekend fell apart amid continued Russian shelling. Before Monday's talks began, Russia announced a new plan, saying civilians would be allowed to leave Kyiv, Mariupol, Kharkiv and Sumy.

But that offer was quickly dismissed by Ukraine and others as an empty and cynical gesture, since most of the evacuation routes headed toward Russia or its ally Belarus, which has served as a launching pad for the invasion.

Ukrainian Deputy Prime Minister Irina Vereshchuk blasted the proposal as unacceptable.

"I don't know many Ukrainians who want to seek refuge in Russia. That's hypocrisy," French President Emmanuel Macron said in an interview on French news broadcaster LCI.

Ukraine instead proposed eight routes allowing civilians to travel to western regions of the country where there is no shelling.

The battle for Mariupol is crucial because its capture could allow Moscow to establish a land corridor to Crimea, which Russia seized from Ukraine in 2014.

The fighting has sent energy prices surging worldwide and stocks plummeting, and threatens t he food supply and livelihoods of people around the globe who rely on crops farmed in the fertile Black Sea region.

The U.N. human rights office reported 406 confirmed civilian deaths but said the number is a vast undercount. The invasion has also sent 1.7 million people fleeing Ukraine.

Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy called for more punitive measures, including a global boycott of Russia's oil exports, which are key to its economy.

"If (Russia) doesn't want to abide by civilized rules, then they shouldn't receive goods and services from civilization," he said in a video address.

Russia's invasion has nearby countries terrified that the violence could spread.

U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken began a lightning visit to the Baltic states of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia, former Soviet republics that are NATO members. Blinken hoped to reassure them of the alliance's protection.

The West has rushed weapons to Ukraine, but NATO has shown no interest in sending troops into the country and has rejected Zelenskyy's pleas to establish a no-fly zone for fear of triggering a wider war.

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Associated Press reporters from around the world contributed to this report.

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