The Torrid Affair

A Token of Affection

It is a difficult thing describing for you dear reader, how poor Nellie felt. The pain scorched her, froze her, trampled, and strangled her. She could hardly breathe and yet every painstaking inhalation made her heart grow heavier in its newfound sorrow. All of the passion and pain she had felt in that one day, was more than all the days of her life combined. (Which if you knew as I know, it would mean a great deal.) Nellie was truly convinced that love was what she had found, no, shared with Thorin. Had shared... and who was there to blame for its loss? None but herself. She knew this. So she didn't begrudge the dwarf for leaving her standing in the rain, miserable and alone. Nellie could only imagine what might have been his burden in it all. To learn he had been cuckolding another man; how could he not be affected by now knowing of it? She could never forgive herself for doing that to Thorin. With tears pooling in her gentle eyes, Nellie slunk back inside the kitchen of the Pig and Whistle, barely able to hold herself up.

Violet had asked her if the deed had been done; no answer save the soft weeping told the woman all that needed to be known. she would have been lying if it didn't bother her to hear Nellie so upset–to see her distraught in such a way. Deciding against comfort, however, Violet sucked her teeth and continued with her game, ever aware that her younger companion was wallowing in the corner of the kitchen. She brought it on herself, Violet thought. Poor wretch.

"Why does it hurt so much?" Nellie begged for an answer.

"Because you dared to dream, you foolhardy girl. You honestly thought a dwarf passing through town, winking your way looking to wet his carrot was going to lead to some happily ever after for you?" Violet drew in her breath to halt herself. Her words had cut Nellie deeply, as the look on her face gave all emotions away.

The younger woman's eyes filled with fresh hoary tears at the prospect of being hustled. The very image of Thorin walking away from her, his eyes blazing with discontentment wasn't helping any. He had been sorely broken by her admission. Perhaps it was what she deserved in the end–to be used. Foolhardy? She felt more foolish than anything else, having let herself believe she could be loved.

Violet stayed there with her until the late hours, hoping her presence was enough to help calm her friend's heartbroken spirit.

When Nellie hadn't seen Thorin at breakfast the following morning, her heart initially sank once more. However, on further inspection of his absence, she noticed his room key had not been returned and no one had been instructed to clean the room. Knowing this had been enough to keep her spirits level, hoping most fervently that she might be able to see him before he left the Pig and Whistle for good. She just had to keep herself busy until his return.

That day had been less busy than usual, leaving the list of tasks numbered and the chores easily completed. Mr. Pickthorn had even given Violet the midmorning off, suggesting she head home and surprise her husband with luncheon. It irked Nellie, seeing him–Mr. Pickthorn that is–in such a chipper mood, knowing full well that if she stepped one toe out of line his displeasure might hit her like a tonne of bricks. So while Violet enjoyed her leisure time, Nellie settled on polishing the silver and keeping her head down. It desperately needed doing anyway.

While toiling away at the spoons, Thorin crept into her thoughts. Now she had tried her best not to think of the dwarf–truly she did–but Violet's words from last night were clawing away at her. Had Thorin only sought her to have his way? She placed a perfectly polished utensil in front of her, replacing its spot in her hand with a tarnished one. Dabbing a bit of slurry mixture to her cloth, Nellie put her elbow grease into the spoon, her mind reeling over her love-sick heart and the possibility. Surely, it wasn't the case. If only she could see him one more time...