My King (Thorin Oakenshield)

Chapter 4 - Caught

"Come on!" Kili whines. "Just once!"

"No," I reply with a grunt. The brothers have been asking me to fight them for ten minutes now, but I keep refusing them. Never in my life have I fought without the necessity to and I don't plan on starting now. What if I can't hold back and accidentally hurt them?

"Does she even know how to fight?" Dwalin seems as grumpy as ever, but I can't hold his doubt against him. None of these dwarves have actually seen me wield a sword.

"I assure you, I do," I bite back. "I just don't do it out of fun."

Practically feeling Thorin's burning gaze on me, I turn around to where he is sitting by the fire. He is indeed looking at me, a little bit of doubt in his beautiful eyes. Wait, what?

Even he starts to question my abilities. How does he think I fought against the orcs outside of Bree? With a fork?

Snorting, I turn back around and continue to re-do my braid. I don't even want to know what I look like, probably like a wet warg on crack.

It surprises me that I seem to be the only one yearning for a bath. Well, not the only one. Bilbo still seems like he will run off to his home any minute.

I can't blame him, to be honest. This is no place for a hobbit, let alone one that doesn't know how to defend himself.

It must be nice having a home to wish himself back to. Even the dwarves have a home to fight for, while I have...nothing. I will help them reclaim Erebor and then I'll be off again, travelling and fighting orcs alone for the rest of my life. Yeah, sounds great.

"What are you thinking about, lass?" My head snaps up and my eyes settle on Bofur, who takes a seat next to me, to bowls with hot soup in his hand.

I take one of them with a grateful smile and start sipping on it. "I prefer Emeryn, you know?" I reply jokingly, purposefully not answering his question.

He seems to notice, though, but he doesn't pry.

"You know any dwarfish songs?" he asks instead. Sometimes he randomly starts singing while riding and most of the dwarves usually sing along.

"I recognized some of your songs because my mother taught them to me, but I'm not good at remembering the texts," I admit with a small smile.

"Want me to teach you my favourite?" The mischievous sparkle in his eyes is what I like most about Bofur and naturally, I nod eagerly.

Although he complements me on my fast learning, I know I gave him a hard time, but after what seems like an eternity, I know all the lyrics at watch him grin at me proudly while I sing it. I don't have a very melodic voice, but I do think I manage to hit the notes right.

All he dwarves clap after I finish and with a huge grin on my face, I bow to them. Wait, not all the dwarves are clapping, I realize. Thorin sits still as a rock, his face not giving up any clue about his emotions.

I decide not to let my gaze linger on this stoic dwarf and instead start a conversation with his nephews, whom I warmed up to these last days. Although they do annoy me with their questions about my fighting skills, I've grown quite fond of them. Given that I never had any real friends, it's a nice change.

The only dwarves who still seem reserved are Dwalin and...well, Thorin. I know they don't trust me fully yet and I can even understand that. I've never proven my trustworthiness and as a skeptical person myself, I can't expect them to have blind faith in me. But I will show them that I can help them.

I've got the feeling that an occasion might arise very soon.

°°°

I'm not very fond of rain either, but I think Dori's a bit overexaggerating by calling it a "deluge". Why do dwarves complain about something they have no control over whatsoever? Not even Gandalf can stop the rain, so why bother?

I don't listen to Bilbo's and Gandalf's conversation about other wizards, instead I stare at the blurred landscape and think about my talk with Gandalf earlier. He told me we needed to seek out Lord Elrond because of the mysterious runes on the map and I instantly knew he was right.

Frankly, I'm even looking forward to being in Rivendell again. It always meant safety, food and a warm bed. And I would kill for a bed right now.

But Gandalf also reminded me of Thorin's hatred for elves and how he would never agree to taking the Hidden Valley. I do understand his attitude towards Thranduil, but Thorin needs to realize that every species has selfish specimen. Dwarves, elves, humams, everyone. For example that hideous Master from Lake Town. Ew.

And I've also had some unpleasant encounters with dwarves, but I don't hate them all because I dislike one or two individuals, do I? Stubborn dwarves.

My head snaps up as Thorin announces for us to set up camp and I sigh happily when I'm standing on my own feet again. I walk past the others to inspect the place Thorin chose, but then suddenly feel myself slipping on the wet ground.

I lose my balance, which results in my falling backwards. I brace for the impact, but it never comes. At least not as expected.

I am caught by two strong arms and as I look up, I am greeted by a pair of gentle blue eyes. His face is upside down from my angle, but I can't avert my gaze from his jaw or his lips or damn, those eyes. Nobody should be allowed to possess those eyes.

They are a distraction to everybody looking at them.

He doesn't let go of me immediately, but at some point I clear my throat which seems to get him out of his daze. "You okay?" he asks while flexing his hands at his sides.

"Erm, yeah, I think so. T-thank you," I mumble with flushed cheeks.

Great, now this will surely get him to think of me as a true warrior.