Calm The Fire: 132

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Náriel couldn't help but smile. She remembered the corridors well, she remembered the twists and the turns and the stairs. She reached the room she was looking for in moments. It was the one she had been given when she first came to Erebor. All those years ago and she still remembered how to get to it.

Pushing open the door she couldn't help but look around confused. Walking in she opened the wardrobe. Clothes. Not just any clothes. Elven clothes. “Uncle,” she mused with a smile. Shaking her head she trailed her hand over the clothes. Dresses, tunics, trousers, nightdresses a whole – though rather small – complete wardrobe was before her.

Clearly he knew she was to stay here. No matter what he'd say he wouldn't be able to get her to leave. If anything she felt like she belonged here. She always felt at peace and content in the Mountain. She did all those years ago, she felt it even more so now considering everything that had happened in between.

Pulling out a nightdress she turned it over in her hands. Soft simple material, hearing a thoughtful hum she looked up. “I think it's official, I have moved in.”

Thorin pushed away from the door frame and walked in. Looking into her wardrobe he raised an eyebrow and looked to her. “You don't waste time do you?” He smirked.

“I think my uncle wanted me to be as at home and comfortable as possible...I am not saying that your Dwarven clothes are uncomfortable, or not suitable for me. Just, well, I’m smaller than your Dwarf women.”

Thorin just looked at her simply as she spoke this. Shaking his head slowly he gave a shrug. “I don't think it'd take you much to be at home here.” He said while moving past her and pushing open the doors which led to the balcony. He turned and looked at her, “You are definitely to stay then?”

“Thorin!” She exclaimed and put the nightdress down on the bed as she passed it. She walked over and stepped in front of him. “Why would you ask such a thing? You are honestly not getting rid of me. Not now. Not ever. I am staying.”

He laughed, much to her confusion. “Do you remember me bringing up the subject of staying, again out there?” He nodded to the balcony. “You were so adamant on leaving.”

“I was not!” Náriel exclaimed and playfully shoved him on the shoulder.

“And now you're adamant on staying. You will make up your mind eventually.”

“Thorin! Be quiet! You're twisting the actual events to benefit you here.”

“Well, yes, of course I am.” Thorin frowned and looked at her. “But as I said then, you are always welcome here.”

Náriel crossed her arms and looked at him seriously. “Are you honestly telling me that if I wanted to, you'd just let me leave?”

“No.” Thorin said firmly. Náriel smiled slowly and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I wouldn't. I think your whole Elven army would need to tear you away from the Mountain, because I am not allowing you to leave my side again.”

Náriel smiled and inclined her head. “That's very sweet of you.”

“Sweet.” Thorin laughed. He had never – that he could recall – ever been called sweet before. “Thank you, I guess.”

“You guess,” Náriel scoffed and rolled her eyes and turned away from him. Any other time she'd walk out into the night air and see the view beyond. But she knew what was out there. It wasn't the lush land which once stood there. It was dark, charred and either dying or trying to recover.

“What brings you here, anyway?” Náriel asked curiously while picking up the nightdress again and turning it in her hands. She couldn't openly remember the last time she'd worn proper bed clothes. Too long she'd slept in her green guard clothes.

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