Chapter Fourteen – Miss Fraser

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"For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first." ― Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

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There was white all around her. The air seemed thin and clear, nothing like the smell of the battle she'd been fighting. Her mouth was dry, her head pounding and her body felt like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her arms were heavy but through her fingers she could feel a soft material beneath her hands. She was on a bed, she realised. The white began to make shapes and soon she understood she was in a tent.

In Kili's tent. Lyra tried to sit up, sudden recollection of the battle and the king coming back to her in a panic, but her body protested and she felt an overwhelmingly horrible sensation at her side. She looked down and noticed bandages wrapped around her lower body, her breast bindings the only other thing she seemed to be wearing on her top half. Lyra cried out involuntarily and clutched at the injury, closing her eyes as the throbbing from the wound rolled over her in waves of pain. She heard the tent open.

"Oh thank Mahal," Kili mumbled, moving quickly to the side of the bed and perching upon the edge gently. "Sit back or you'll open the wound again," he told her sternly, guiding her shoulders so that she laid back on the bed. Lyra let out a breath, forcing her body to relax.

"What happened?" she asked dumbly, "I just remember the mill…" her thoughts drifted off, trying to pull together fragmented memories of a half conscious state.

"You were wounded fighting the orcs," Kili told her looking grim. "Uncle told me of your bravery in facing them, though he hasn't said much about you since…" it was Kili's turn to drift off, looking at her in concern.

"Since what?" she asked slowly, completely not understanding the prince.

"You were dying," he told her with strained edge, not answering her question. Kili grabbed her hand and held it firmly. "I mean, you fell to the floor, covered in your own blood. So we had to stop the bleeding and the only way to do that was to take off your amour and clothing…"

"Everyone saw me unclothed?" Lyra asked, embarrassment stupidly flushing her face, even though she knew it had been necessary to save her life.

"You had your wrapping around your-" Kili gestured wildly to his chest, making an unsubtle cupping motion "-but you are a woman and… that is very clear when you are mostly unclothed." Kili did not mean anything other than to state a fact that Lyra could certainly not deny. In the past year alone she had grown more curvaceous and womanly, and the idea of everyone seeing this was embarrassing.

But not just embarrassing. Lyra's brain was working slowly, and her mind began to catch up with what Kili said. She looked at him with wide eyes. "So everyone knows?" she felt sick at the idea.

"Well, yes," he said looking upset. "And uncle is particularly angry."

"What of the battle?" Lyra looked at Kili's expression to see if there was any hint of sadness.

"We won," he said gravely, "but many brave men and dwarves lost their life. Prince Edvard was killed on the field, as was his general, and the rest of the army fled from the field. Fili has gone to Urbem to claim victory for Erebor and reseat the king upon the throne." Kili smiled wanly at Lyra; the bittersweet victory of a war hard won.

"Do you know if my friend, Thomas…?"

"Oh aye, he's fine," the dark haired prince told her wryly. "Tried to see you but wasn't allowed."

It was then that Lyra noticed then that there was muttering from outside the tent.

"Whose out there?" Lyra looked to the tent flap which was blowing in the breeze revealing a mixture of boots standing in the mud.

Kili paused for a moment and looked at her with an unreadable expression. "They are guards," he told her plainly.

"Guarding what?"

"You," he said with guilt. "You broke the law Lyra... but I think they are just there to make sure you don't leave the tent and cause more trouble." Lyra blinked at Kili but nodded her understanding.

"I suppose I knew it would end this way," she said, closing her eyes against the throbbing in her head that had started again.

"But it won't be the end because of Uncle," Kili stressed, "He… well, he has vouched for you."

Kili stopped speaking in riddles then and told Lyra what had happened since she fell unconscious. Kili had insisted she be treated as any other soldier, so they had stitched her up and Kili had offered his own tent to allow her to heel. Word had spread around the camp that the soldier who had been selected by the Dale battalion was actually a female. The King of Dale was furious that this had been allowed to happen. Kili was scared that they may make an example of Lyra, and had convinced Thorin that there was a danger of Lyra's execution.

So the King under the Mountain, although angry himself at the betrayal, had decided to tell all of the bravery of this female soldier. Of how she had saved the crown prince with her knowledge of the local herbs, had done a fine job in guarding and advising Kili on his ambassador mission to Urbem, how Lyra had stayed to gather much needed information at great personal risk to herself; information of which helped them win the war. In addition to all that, she then rode the King of Erebor from battle when he was wounded, tended his wounds and fought orcs alone to save said king; and may be on her death bed as they spoke.

"It is needless to say that the King of Dale decided to leave the question of punishment to Thorin," Kili finished. "But he has not decide yet. He wishes to speak with you first. Until then, you are under our care." The dark haired prince looked resolute this statement. "This does mean, though that you are no long a soldier of Dale, but are under the law of Erebor." Only those who marry into a dwarven family are held under the laws of dwarves, and Lyra found this idea hard to get around her throbbing head.

"Did you get in trouble for knowing?" she asked her friend with concern, rubbing at her eyes to dispel the pressure.

"Fili did. Uncle was furious that Fili had known and let you fight," Kili told her. "I think he just expects me to make decisions like that, but Fili he thought better of. That is why he has been sent to deal with the mess at Urbem."

"But it was my choice," she argued.

"But we could have stopped you really, and we probably should have." Kili looked at Lyra's bandaged stomach with guilt. "But then again, you saved Uncle's life. Twice. So I can't quite bring myself to regret that." Kili gave Lyra a shy smile.

Lyra felt exhaustion and Kili left her soon after that so she might sleep. Lyra fell into unconsciousness quickly and without mercy and slept so deeply she could not be woken.

When she did wake it was in the night and with beads of sweat upon her brow. There were a few candles alight in her room so that she could see the surroundings. She sat up in the bed and heaved her empty stomach, bile the only thing she could vomit. Her sides burned as if they were on fire and her stomach convulsed again, trying to rid it of an invisible poison. Lyra noticed the flaps of the tent open and close briefly, but chose to direct her attention to the cup of water by her bed.

She drunk from the cup slowly, not wishing for it to leave her stomach, and wet her dry lips with her tongue. All she could seem to think was how hot it was and that she needed to get out from the thick quilt upon the bed. She tried to pulled them off but her wound protested and instead she lay still and wimped at the sharp stabbing motion. When it abated she reached for the cup of water again and took long sips.

Thus was her state when the King under the Mountain entered the tent.

He was alone and was dressed in a long, fur back coat and had a wooden walking stick at his side. Lyra noticed how well he was on his feet and was glad she was right in her assessment that it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He did not say anything but just watched her with a frown. Lyra was suddenly aware of her undressed state, it not having bothered her before with Kili, and pulled the covers up to her to preserve any semblance she had left of her modesty.

"Your majesty," she crocked out, her voice raw and dryer than she'd expected, but stared at the King with resolve.

He studied her coldly as she said this but did not deem to give a response. Lyra repressed the urge to explain herself, to defend her decision, so instead took another drink from the water. When she finished it, she placed it on the bedside table with shaking hands wishing for more. Her stomach felt as if it wanted to reject the liquid, but she pushed the feeling down and held her head high, her labored breathing evident in her rapidly rising chest. Sweat was gathering on her forehead and she felt a droplet roll down her chin.

Eventually Thorin let out a long suffering sign and pick up a seat from the table in the corner of the tent. He placed it at the foot of the bed and sat down, continuing to stare at Lyra with severe intensity. Lyra, still feeling as if she were going to throw up her gut, decided that she must keep face in front of this dwarf lest she lose all the respect for her he may still hold. She moved beneath the covers to sit straighter, gritting her teeth at the pain of her wound being agitated, and looked back at the king with a deep breath and a shiver.

Thorin watched Lyra's movement curiously and she thought she might have seen a flash of concern pass across his face, but disappeared as soon as it came. Lyra, feeling exhaustion slowing creeping up on her, decided to break the silence.

"Prince Kili was here and told me of what has happened," she said in the clearest, strongest voice she could muster, which wasn't so clear and sounded shaky and weak. "I am told what happens next is down to your discretion."

Thorin gave a hum of acknowledgement at her statement and the room fell into a tense silence as Lyra waited in baited breath at what he might say.

"Were there any truths?" he asked her eventually.

"There was only ever one lie," she replied, rubbing her hand across her forehead as the sweat collected. She pulled the covers closer to herself, feeling the cold of the night acutely. "It was just a big one."

"And tell me, Miss Frasier, where does one big lie end?" spat the king, his suppressed anger coming out suddenly, seemingly unexpected to himself as well.

Lyra shook her head, trying to dislodge the fog that clouded her brain. "It was never supposed to go this far, I was only ever supposed to save them," she muttered, half delirious in her fevered state. "I just wanted to…" she drifted off as she took a deep breath, a wave of nausea rolling over her.

The king seemed to sense something was amiss and when Lyra put her hand upon her mouth to fall stall the vomit, he moved with surprising quickness to get her a bucket that sat at the base of the bed. Lyra emptied out the water she had just drunk into the bucket, wave after wave forcing out ever drop that may have hydrated her.

Lyra took huge a gulping breath, shaking her head as tears began to roll down her face. She was so cold; could the king not see that? "I just needed to save them…" Lyra said to the bucket, her breath catching in a sob as she clutched her bucket of bile. "But I also wanted to do the right thing…"

Lyra's brain began to fog beyond any cognitive ability; she remembered someone taking the bucket from her and the voice of King above her head. He sounded concerned and there was a shout. She felt a cold hand on her forehead and with weak arms tried to bat it away; she was cold enough already.

She reached up and took the hand in her own, holding it close to her face and trying to get across something important but not quiet remember what it was. She shifted in and out of consciousness after this and caught snippets of conversation. Sometimes she would awaken but she was quickly given a bitter tasting liquid and would fall back into a black slumber in moments.

"…tomorrow we will go…"

"…could kill her! Stay here…"

"…getting worse. The infection…"

"…you'll be home tomorrow Lyra; back in Erebor. I promise."

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Lyra awoke in a warm, dark room. She was disorientated beyond belief; not understanding how she had gotten there. She remembered very little of anything and knew only how thirsty she felt. Had everything been a dream; the mountain, the king, the battle? After a few moments to adjust, she realized that the room was in fact not dark but was alight with candles and a fire glowing with hot embers from the corner.

Lyra could hear a soft hum from outside the room, coming in through the ajar door on the far side. She tried to sit up but felt too tired and weak, and instead her body gave a soft cough. Her throat was so dry and she looked about for water, noticing the old wooden furnishings as she did. Her coughing seemed to alert someone and Lyra heard the humming stop and quick steps towards where she rested.

From the door frame there appear a darrowdam with red hair and a round face. "Oh lassie, you're awake, praise be," spoke a thick accent Lyra recognized.

"Far?" Lyra crocked, recognizing Moe's wife and becoming even more confused to where she was.

"Oh aye lass, it's me," she said gently. Far sat down on a stool by her bed quietly, lifted a cup of water from the table and fed it to Lyra very slowly.

"How long was I…?" Lyra couldn't finish her sentence as her body shook with a cough as the water caught in her lungs.

"You're back in Erebor now, been about ten days I should say since you got yourself in a sorry state." Far spoke quietly and softly as if speaking to a small child as she patted Lyra's back as her body shook. Predicting her next question, the red haired darrowdam continued, "they moved you when they realized there was an infection. First you were to die from your wounds and then you were to die from the infection. But I said, no she's a strong one, and here we are." Far's voice sounded very somber, tinged with a sadness that hadn't been there before.

Lyra looked around the room, at the homely furnishing and small space. "Am I in your home?" she asked.

"I insisted I nurse you, since your sister wasn't allowed to see you," Far told her. "I said, she should wake to a friendly face, I told them. Prince Kili agreed of course and you've been here for four days now. Your fever broke two days ago now I should say."

Lyra was deeply touched by the darrowdam's kindness and tears began to build in her eyes. "Thank you," she said in a thick voice, "are you not angry at me for lying?"

Lyra had left awfully bad about the deception, but mostly to Moe and Thomas who she knew were her good friends. Far chuckled slightly at her question. "Lassie, you may have been able to fool a king, two princes, your comrades and even an entire army," she said wryly, "but I knew as soon as you walked through my door you were a girl."

Lyra looked at the female dwarf before her and a small smile began to make its way onto her lips. "Really?" Lyra asked, a small laugh bubbling on the end of her tongue.

"The male species cannot see two feet before their nose," Far told her and the two of them giggled together, the world outside the little room suddenly unimportant. "It is good to laugh, doesn't seem like there are enough reasons at the moment."

"Why? Has something happened?" Lyra asked, noting the somberness once again of the usually firey woman.

"Now never you worry," she muttered, "I best get the soup on for supper as you're awake." Far began to stand but was halted when Lyra weakly reach out to touch the redheads hand.

"Is Moe about?" Lyra said, not understanding. Far's face crumbled at this and a lump of dread formed in Lyra's throat. "Far, what happened?" Lyra rasped.

"Oh lass, it was the River Flu," she told her, clutching Lyra's hand hard in her. "He was well one minute and then the next; gone." Far began to weep and Lyra felt her own well up with tears.

"When?"

"Oh not long after the army marched from Erebor, three weeks maybe now? The days are long, but I've got Merl to look after and…" Far continued to silently cry and all Lyra could do was clutch the darrowdams hands strongly in her own.

"You should not have taken me in, I do not wish to be a burden," Lyra told her, feeling immensely guilty for having taken a bed in her house.

"Oh hush now, Moe wouldn't have had it any other way, and nor would I," Far reassured, blotting her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. "It's been a good distraction having you here I should think. Right, now I really must get this soup on otherwise it'll be too late to eat." Far swept from the room quickly and Lyra lay in bed listening to the rustle of pans in the kitchen.

Moe had died. The concept sat strangely in Lyra's mind like a stone. The young Fraser was an old friend to death but every time someone passed Lyra felt as if a little piece of her soul had gone with them. The grief sat in Lyra's chest, bubbling up her throat until she found herself sobbing into the pillow.

She sobbed for her friend she'd lost. She sobbed for what could have been but won't be anymore. She sobbed because she was in pain, because life was unfair, because her sister was probably worried sick. Lastly, she sobbed for the way the king had looked at her with bitter distrust and because she knew she deserved his loathing.

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Thank you for reading and staying with the story so far! I hope you liked this chapter and the angsty moments I couldn't help but include :3 I love knowing your opinions and theories so please leave a review and tell me your thought. Please forgive any misspelling or grammatical errors. I'll update again soon! Until next time...