Chapter Twenty-Four

7 1 0
                                    

Darkness crept into Dale and Nina tried not to notice the passage of time, even as she lit the lamp on her bedside table. A sense of unease swept through her, especially when she went out into the sitting area, where she found Sigrid at the battered kitchen table, knitting.

Sigrid said nothing, but merely arched an eyebrow and that somehow made her feel even worse. Had she been a fool? Had Thorin sought to get even with her by using her, making her think he felt something, and...

No. She refused to even consider the very notion.

"It's almost eight," Sigrid remarked, lowering her knitting.

"I know." Nina sank onto the arm of the sofa with a low sigh, a feeling of idiocy swirling through her. "Perhaps my faith was misplaced."

"I had hoped not."

"So did—" The sudden rap on the door cut her off and her spirits rose as she did. Nina smiled over her shoulder at Sigrid. "Perhaps it wasn't after all."

Sigrid smiled. "Only one way to find out."

Nina drew a deep breath to quell the thousands of butterflies that had taken up residence in her belly as she reached for the door handle. But when she pulled it open and her gaze alit on Thorin on the far side of the threshold, those butterflies multiplied tenfold.

He offered up a sheepish smile. "I know I'm late, but I do have a good reason."

"Come in, Thorin. And then you can offer up your reason."

He bobbed his head. "Fair enough."

She stepped back to allow him room to enter the flat and as he did, he said, "Miss Sigrid, how do you fare?"

"I'm well, thank you. And yourself?"

"I'm good, thank you."

Sigrid rose from the table, scooping her knitting into her arms. "I will allow the two of you—"

"No, there's no need to leave, Miss Sigrid."

"That's fine. I have a book waiting for me and you two don't need an audience." She smiled. "It was nice seeing you again, Thorin."

With that, she swept into her room, and Nina turned to Thorin. "I'm listening."

"Oh, right. I was waylaid in Erebor." He offered up a sheepish smile. "Balin was working on something for me and he was supposed to have finished it by now, but did not."

"What was he working on? Something to do with Esgaroth?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes." He gestured to the door. "Now, I believe I promised you supper, didn't I?"

"You did."

"Then come along and we will enjoy a meal not cooked out in the open by Dwalin."

"We enjoyed several like that in Mirkwood," she reminded him.

"And not surrounded by elves, either."

"Fair enough."

Once they were outside, he reached for her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and as they touched, Nina felt the snap of electricity between them and wondered if she would always feel it. Thorin looked over at her, his eyes soft, and without a word, lifted her hand to his lips.

"You felt it, didn't you?"

"Felt what?" He winked and his fingers tightened about hers. "Where should we go?"

"Anywhere but the Black Swan."

"Agreed."

They made their way along Stone Street, and out to the main street, which was twice as wide, but far more quieter at night than it would be come morning. Some shops had closed for the night, but plenty more remained open, their brightly colored awnings still unrolled over the doorways and soft warm light within welcoming any and all shoppers.

Something in the NightOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora