A Willing Heart

Four

I had just come down from my room when Thorin knocked on the door, having added something new to my usual fighting attire, though no one could see it because I had it hidden inside my blouse.  When Thorin walked in, I was tightening the shoulder belt that held the scabbard behind my back, concealed by the cloak I wore over my dress.  

"You can leave your coat on the chair, my prince," I said, feeling his eyes watching me as I smoothed the cloak over myself, my face still hidden in half shadow.  

"Where are you going?" He asked, his tone soft as a faint smile graced his lips.

"Jürgen is teaching me sword fighting," I said, embarrassed.  Many of the townspeople did not believe that a woman should learn such skill, that it was only for men to learn.  But Jürgen knew better, and I had grown to look forward to such sessions with him.  Just as it afforded him an escape from the heat of his forge, so it gave me a chance to breathe open air after spending too long inside the house.  "I believe he has already left and will be upset if I am late."

As Thorin stepped out of the door and I shut the door behind me, I found that he was still standing there watching me as I pocketed my key.  Though he was sweaty from all the work he had just done, the braids that hung alongside his face loose in places, Thorin was still as handsome as ever.  No sweat or dirt could mar that face, I found myself thinking — and blushing as soon as I realized my thoughts.  I picked up the basket I had set down on the ground before locking the door and Thorin reached to take it from my hand.

"Allow me, my lady," he said.  "May I walk with you to wherever you are meeting  Master Jürgen?"

I nodded, and we began walking through the cobblestone walkway, aware that people were watching us.  I kept my head down as we passed the inn though I saw Farmer Nager catch sight of us, his eyes widening in surprise at the dwarf who walked next to me.  

Without his princely coat, Thorin still cut a formidable figure.  Though he stood shorter than most, if not all, men in the town of Greenbanú, the dwarf prince had a bearing like no other man I had ever known — except for Lialam, of course, who considered himself superior to everyone because of his wealth.  But with Thorin, it was different.  The greatness in his bearing flowed in his veins and it radiated from his eyes, making me look away from him each time I turned to glance at him to answer a question about the town or the places that we walked past.

"Have you lived here all your life, my lady?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied.  "For as long as I can remember.  And please, call me Aleana.  There is no need to address me as a lady.  Here in Greenbanú, that is what I'm called."

When he was about to say the words again, I touched his arm and he stopped to look at me.  

"I insist, my lord," I said. "I am no lady.  I am only a seamstress."

He smiled, and a sparkle traveled to his eyes, making them seem bluer than they were.  "Then I shall insist that you stop calling me 'my lord' or 'my prince' as well, because here, in your town, I am only a smith."

I chuckled beneath my breath, nodding in agreement.  I'd completely forgotten all about our exchange in Khuzdul earlier, relieved that he had not mentioned it as well.  For a few moments we did not talk but continued walking, our boots barely making a sound over the cobblestoned sidewalk till we reached the edge of town.  But our walk had attracted more than just the attention of the townspeople, for another dwarf begun to follow us, though he kept his distance.  

He was a formidable one, judging from his bearing.  He was slightly taller than Thorin but with broader shoulders and dark hair that grew straight up in a strip along the middle of his head, from hairline to the back of his head, leaving the sides bald except for tattoos of dwarven runes.  I glanced at Thorin to see if he had noticed, but he hadn't.  He simply kept walking alongside me, carrying the basket in one hand.