Iron and Oak - Short Stories for Rainy Days

Breakfast

Esja opened her eyes with a groan and rolled to her back.  Her body ached as she came away from the dream. She turned to snuggle against him, but his side of the bed was empty.  Her heart gave a little jump as she jerked upright, looking around.  He wasn't here. 

"He is here somewhere," she told herself as she scrambled off the bed, dragging her blue fox fur blanket with her, pushing down fear and panic.

She barely had it around her when she stepped into the front room of the cottage and saw him crouched in front of the fire, stirring it up to a crackling delight. 

He was humming quietly but stopped and said, "I'm right here."

Esja swallowed her fear and sighed.  She watched the stretch and curve of the muscles in his bare back, and fragments of the dream came back to her.  She tightened her legs in response. She saw his shoulders stiffen and his head come up.  He turned his head slightly toward her; she could see his profile clearly in the firelight. 

"Yes, Esja?" he asked.

She saw the curve at the corner of his mouth and felt suddenly a little stubborn.

"Nothing," she said, moving toward him. 

She dropped to her knees behind him and slid the warm blanket around them both, pressing her bare skin to his back. 

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Esja sighed her head on his shoulder, " Yes," she said.

Thorin tried to ignore the press of her bare breasts against his back.  They were warm and firm, and he missed them sorely.  He replaced the fireplace screen and held still, enjoying her touch.  Too soon, she moved away and wrapped her fur back around her before he could turn about.  He stood and pulled her against him, kissing her hair.  Eight weeks, it had been.  Durin!  Eight weeks.  How easily it had been made unbearable.  She lifted her head from his chest at the rustling sound from the bedroom and turned.

Thorin held her and said, "Sit here by the fire. I'll go."

Esja looked up at him and kissed his chin before she dropped thankfully onto the pillow-cushioned chair, folding her legs underneath her.  Huddling deeper into the fur, she listened to his murmuring voice in the bedroom.  In her mind, she saw him sitting in a chair in front of a fire, pipe in hand, as she knelt in front of him.  She closed her eyes, trying to catch the fluttering shred of the dream.  His hand on her shoulder brought her back to her chair, her fireplace.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not so much today," she said, looking at the tiny head cupped in his massive hand, and cradled at his neck.

Esja stretched her back and looked expectantly at him.  He smiled and trailed his hand down her shoulder, pushing the fur aside.

Esja looked away and almost suppressed the sound of her pleasure as his fingers moved across her breast.  He settled the tiny babe at the crook of her arm.  She looked down at her daughter, huge blue eyes and copper-gold hair and a tiny mouth already searching.  The baby gave a little squeal of frustration as Esja shifted her position.  Thorin chuckled and spoke quiet Khuzdul to the child, brushing her cheek with his finger.  Her mouth followed his touch, and he rubbed a knuckle across the tight nub of a nipple, drawing a surprised gasp from the baby's mother and a gentle leak of milk from the nipple.  At the smell of her mother's milk, the little one mewled, and Esja watched Thorin's hand cup the child's head, pressing the small mouth to the now freely dripping nipple.  As the baby found its goal and latched on a little painfully, Esja slid her hand under her breast, lifting it a little, slipping her finger between the baby's gums, allowing her to re-attach a little more comfortably.