Arien could feel something soft but heavy lying on top of her. And she was breathing. Breathing. She was alive. She opened her eyes. The soft but heavy thing was a bed cover. She was lying on her side in a bed in a large, square stone room, sunlight streaming through the high glass window on the opposite wall.

"She wakes."

Arien turned in surprise to find a black haired, bearded dwarf woman sitting by her bed, grinning at her. She looked oddly similar to the male dwarf who'd escorted her here. Wherever here was.

"Who are you?" Arien asked, trying to keep her voice pleasant. She realised she felt no pain from what must have been a deep gash in her back. "Where are we? And... and what happened?"

"I'm Dis," the dwarf woman said.

Dis. The name rang a bell. She searched through faces in her memory but none fitted that name.

"Daughter of Thrain, son of King Thror."

Arien's mouth fell open. "You're... Dis? Fourth in line to the throne of Erebor?"

Dis shrugged. "I suppose I am. You know, it's really not all it's cut out to be, being a royal. It's surprisingly dull."

Arien couldn't help staring at her. The fact that she looked like the dwarf she'd traveled here with... Who did that make him?

Dis's grin widened. "As to your other questions: we're in Erebor, in the guest quarters, and now that you're better, you'll be judged by King Thror. He'll decide whether you can stay." She winked. "Although considering you have the favour of a certain high-ranking figure, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I... what?"

"You'll learn soon enough," she said dismissively. "Now, your last question will require some explaining. After you got stabbed, Thorin carried you in his arms all the way back to Erebor." She leaned in closer. "I'm surprised you weren't swooning. You had..."

"Wait," Arien interrupted. "What? Thorin? Prince Thorin?"

Dis cocked her head. "How many other Thorins have you heard of?" She shook her head as if in exasperation. "Yes, Thorin. My grumpy, far-too-serious brother. He was the one you travelled with."

Arien felt like hiding under the covers. She'd insulted Prince Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He'd carried her back to Erebor. She was surprised she wasn't on the execution block already. God, she'd bled in front of him.

"Didn't you know?" asked Dis, her eyes widening slightly.

"He... he never told me."

"Ah," she said, as if that explained something. "You want to know what he did?"

Despite Arien shaking her head, Dis went on. "He carried you back to Erebor, and then defied his grandfather's order for you to be presented in front of him, and insisted you be healed first. You have no idea how he was punished for that."

Arien stared at her, pretty sure she was doing a very realistic impression of a fish on dry land. "How?" she whispered, a part of her not wanting to know the answer.

"Three blows. One for being disobedient, one for refusing to back down, and one for being totally remorseless about what he did. All of it in public."

Arien closed her mouth again. He'd done that... for her. Endured that for her. After all she'd ever done was insult him.

'You've been horrible,' she told herself.' But you can thank him later.'

She turned back to Dis. "When is your king judging me?"

"As soon as you've dressed."