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Calm The Fire: 20

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“A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
i chin a thûl lín míriel…” Náriel's quietly spoken voice sung filling the silent room, it's volume was just audible over the sound of the crackling fire by the bedside.

Thorin had seemingly refused to go back to sleep. He had forced himself to sit up, regardless of Náriel's apprehension over this. They had spoken on and off throughout the time that she had been here. Somehow the topic of singing had come up. Náriel was curious to know if the Dwarves sung songs, much like the Elves did. Singing was a casual past time, a way of celebrating, a device to use if saddened.

The curious question alone caused Thorin's expression to turn thoughtful, he had answered truthfully but had declined singing. Which caused her to pout, but that soon disappeared and she soon smiled lightly.

Although he was declining spontaneous singing, she wasn't. Deciding to sing something which she had known by heart since a young age, she straightened in the chair – she had long since moved to give him more space and comfort – placing her hands in her lap she commenced singing.

Thorin was quietly contemplating another topic which wasn't musical based but his thoughts drifted off when beside him Náriel's voice sung. Clear as a bell yet gentle like a whisper, it was perhaps one of the most beautiful things to hear.

When she had finished she returned to partially leaning back in the chair. Thorin blinked slowly and tilted his head to the side to look at her.

“What does it mean?”

Náriel raised an eyebrow at his choice of words. “Mean? Don't you mean: what did I sing?” She questioned lightly, his expression went blank, why she chose to pick holes in things more so now than before was beyond him. Thorin half reckoned it was because his senses were for the moment dulled. He couldn't think of the right words and would use others instead which may not have fitted in with the rest of sentence he was trying to speak.

“O Queen Beyond the Western Seas is what it is called.” Náriel explained and looked thoughtful for the moment. Tapping her cheek still in thought she looked to him. “I believe in Westron it goes something like this:

O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O light to us that wander
Amid the tree-woven middle-lands.
O Elbereth Star-kindler
your eyes and breath are shining like jewels...” Náriel's voice trailed off quietly while she nodded slowly wondering if she translated it correctly. She wasn't in a habit of translating, it wasn't something she was used to doing. Her thoughts drifted off and she became alert to the sounds of material being moved. Looking up she couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, the laugh earned her a look shot at her way though.

It seemed that whatever fever was running its course was making it hard for Thorin to be either cool and comfortable, or overly hot and slightly grumpy; or grumpier than he was when she had earlier arrived.

Right now – and what caused Náriel to laugh – was his rather irritated expression at the sight of the blankets and throws which were currently draped over his legs. Half way through kicking them off like they were physically burning him, he'd got caught up and begrudgingly had to lean forward to fully push the blankets away. Only this unfortunate blanket ended up getting thrown, not just pushed away.

Looking to his bedside, Náriel stood up, shooing her hands at him she sat down in front of him again. Leaning forward she placed her hands into the bowl which was on the table. Despite being in a room with a fully burning fire, the water was cold. Chilled even as if it had just come out of a fresh spring. Slowly pulling her hands out of the water, she wrung the cloth which had long since sunk to the bottom of the bowl.

Fidgeting forward slightly, she brushed stray locks of hair out of his face and pressed the cloth against his forehead. The effect of the sudden cold piece of material caused him to give a small shudder.

“You do realize, the more you stay awake, the more time it shall take for you to recover?”

Thorin frowned and crossed his arms. “You make it sound like I am on my death bed.”

“Lord no! That isn't even something to joke about...” Náriel said awkwardly while frowning at him.

“Sorry if I offended.”

“It's fine.” Náriel said still sounding a little awkward. Her arm was starting to go to sleep where it was elevated. Slowly retracting and putting the cloth back into the bowl she shook her arm to get feeling back into it. Raising an eyebrow she picked up a glass. Looking into it she looked to him, tilting it in his direction she smiled lightly when he took it from her.

Slowly drinking the water within it he reached over and placed the glass on the table. Slowly, and while giving the bundled blankets at the bottom of the bed a well needed kick out of the way, he laid down on his side.

He opened his eyes and looked up at Náriel when he felt something icy rest against his temple. She had picked up the cloth again and pressed it gently against him. Blinking slowly, he found himself trying to stay awake. Each time he felt himself drift off, he woke up with a small jolt. He'd come back to reality with confused and dazed eyes, he'd look around and then up at her. Náriel was still here, in the same position she had been in moments ago, holding the cloth gently against his head.

“You're being stubborn,” her voice whispered when he had just woken himself back up with another small jolt. She removed the cloth, dipped it into the bowl, wrung it and folded it simply before placing it back against him.

“Sleep, Thorin, you clearly wish to. I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Even in his half asleep state this caught his attention. Lightly frowning he looked up at her with mild amusement. “You'll be here when I wake up?” He questioned, his words seemed to dawn on Náriel, she sat quietly mumbling awkwardly, half the words she spoke were in Elvish so he had no idea what she was saying. “Planning on staying, hm?” He smirked and watched as she refolded the cloth.

Náriel frowned but a small smile was on her face. “Even when ill, and clearly more asleep than awake, you still find a way of being silly.”

“My questioning isn't silly.” He stated.

Putting a hand against his cheek, Náriel smiled. “Sleep, Thorin,” she repeated her earlier words. “Sleep peacefully, I will be here when you wake, because someone should watch over you. Though I believe you shall be fine.” She paused to sit up straight and nod surely. She could see he was about to counter her words, but she stopped him by putting a finger to his lips. “Shh, sleep, rest, recover.”

“How can I possibly speak out against such strongly spoken words?” He asked while lazily reaching up and removing her finger and then taking to holding her hand loosely.

“You can't, not really.” Náriel smirked rather triumphantly over the fact that she had got him there. He didn't question anymore, he settled rather quickly. And unlike previously, he didn't purposely wake himself up for the sake of trying to talk to her.


(A/N: Ugh, working all Easter weekend sucks. I've gotta work today too. Not gonna lie, i am pretty damn zombiefied, as such if there's errors let me know and i'll correct them tomorrow. Thanks! ^^)

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