Saving Durin {Hobbit/Thorin}

Chapter 43: Infatuation with underpants?

Chapter 43:

Infatuation with underpants?

Sleeping in Thorin's arms for the first time in days awakens my sense of inner peace, previously lost to the dragon sickness. The worry festering in my heart wains at the hope of our future together. My bones fail to ache, as of the previous days, when Thorin's arms are wrapped about my tiny ribs in a loving embrace. The rise and fall of his chest plays a melody to the beat of my awakened heart. These are the moments that I live for.

And from that gentle sleep, I fall with the pressure of a wooden staff upon the small of my back. Mind me, it is not so much a gentle pressure on my skin, but a harsh smacking against my bones. A groan of pain and awakeness escapes my mouth, at the insistence of Gandalf's walking stick.

"Will you stop that?!" I shout at the wizard, rolling over in Thorin's arms to look up at the wizard. He smirks at me, like revenge, but continues to poke me. I growl at him, rolling from Thorin's arms and the furry bedding to stand upon my small feet. Gandalf continues to stare down upon me, though stops his pesky hitting.

"Do you have a death wish?" I ask him, as he knows that I am hostile in the first minutes of the morning. Don't get me wrong, I am very much a morning person, but the not-so-gentle waking up often sends me into a bad mood. Let's hope that changes with Thorin's consciousness.

"Not today. I thought I might inform you that the elves and Lakemen are here. You ought to get up," Gandalf replies. I nod my head, smile arising on my features, as my plan falls into place. I knew I could trust Bard with the request, and I expect that the elf king was all too happy to oblige.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch," I respond. My hand gesturing to wake Thorin, Gandalf goes about whacking the dwarf king with his staff. I am surprised Thorin slept through my rude awakening, but his lack of sleep over the last few days explains it. Just as I did, Thorin groans and growls at the staff's meeting of his chest.

"You seem to have an infatuation with my undergarments," Gandalf remarks, for this is the second time I have mentioned them on this journey. I smirk at the idea and memories, while Thorin rolls to his feet at my side.

"No, she has an infatuation with mystery," Thorin casually responds, knowing me better than I know myself. I acknowledge the truth with a nod, as I have never come to that conclusion before. Nonetheless, it is beyond true.

"When did you get here?" Thorin asks the wizard, suddenly realizing his appearance. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as Gandalf chuckles, smile lines evident at the corners of his beard.

"Sundown of two days ago," Gandalf responds, taking heed to not tell Thorin of how he got here. It was decided by Gandalf and myself that I would save the truth of my journey until the council, and the fate of the Arkenstone till after the war. I'd rather have Thorin infuriated with me later, rather than during our final fight with the Pale Orc.

Thorin nods his head, knowing it's better to not question the wizard with formalities. The dwarf king turns to peer at me, pulling my chest into his in a morning greeting. His clear blue eyes shine with happiness and love as they meet my own stormy gray ones. A rare smile paints his features, and I can't help but press my lips to his own in a warming kiss. He kisses back with passion, though it is slow and full of love. Our lips meet one another in smiles, our hands locked around each other's bodies. Pulling away at the remembrance of the other armies outside these walls, I recognize Gandalf's absence and the awoken company. With their groans of pain, I realize that the wizard hit them with his staff as well, so I chuckle with glee. Thorin just looks upon my happiness with utter adoration.