In the corridor between her chambers and Thorin's, Arielle stopped. "I should go up there and at least try to talk it out with them. I'd really rather not leave it up in the air this way."
"Are you certain? Sometimes, time is the best remedy of all."
She stared down along the corridor, although there was nobody there, of course. "I just feel as if I've let them all down."
"Arielle—"
"I know," she cut him off, holding up both hands to halt him, "I know that they will get over in time and it won't really matter if they don't because eventually I'll be their employer just as you are and I know I'll be the queen, but that just sounds so pretentious and uppity that I don't think I will ever be able to use it to describe myself and anyway, I don't want them listening to me because they have to, but I'd rather it be because they like me and respect me and I don't even know how I go about getting that respect back because—"
"Arielle!" He caught her by the shoulders. "You're babbling again."
"Oh, I know! I just can't help it!"
"I've noticed that about you."
She glared at him. "Not helping."
He held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fair enough. I think it adorable, if a bit difficult to follow at times, but you might want to think about not doing it quite so often."
"If it was that easy, don't you think I'd do it?" she snapped, whipping about to stalk toward the end of the corridor, where she stopped and turned back to find him still standing there. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I hate having them hate me."
"They don't hate you, I'm sure." He leaned up against the wall, arms folded. "They're hurt, yes. And probably angry as well. But, Kusela thinks the world of you and the others will come around. Now, if you want to go and try talking to Brynne or Erika, go right ahead. Come find me when you're finished."
"Come find you? Thorin, do you know how big this city is? I get lost every time I try to find my way from the laundry, but I'm supposed to come find you?"
A low chuckle rolled toward her. "I'll be in here," he rapped on his closed door, "unless someone needs me for something. In which case, I'll come find you."
She nodded, and made her way around the corner. But, as she was halfway to the staircase that would bring her to the level with the kitchens and the Great Hall, she stopped, doubled back, and knocked on Thorin's door.
"Who goes?" he called.
"It's me. Arielle."
A low laugh rolled toward her. "A simple it's me is enough. I know the sound of your voice by now, you know."
She rolled her eyes, but when he opened the door, she launched herself at him. Just leaped into his arms and thank Mahal he had good reflexes, for he caught her easily, even as he took a step backward and groaned as she wrapped her legs about his hips. "What is this for?"
"For being the one person here who doesn't hate me."
He linked his fingers at the small of her back. "I told you, they don't hate you. I promise you they don't. But, feel free to greet me this way any time you wish, mesmel. I rather like how you feel this way."
She caught his face in her hands, his beard scratchy-soft against her palms. Smiling, she tilted his face to hers and bent to capture his lips in a slow kiss. She meant it to only be that, a single kiss, but his arms tightened about her as he moved back and sank onto the sofa. His hands skimmed along her back, up to her shoulders, down to her hips, and then, he drew back to murmur, "If you're going to talk with the staff, you should go because another moment and I am not letting you off this sofa."
She shivered at the hints of promise in his deep voice. "Stay here until I return?"
"Go."
She kissed him once more, then slid down from his lap and left his apartments. This time, when she reached the staircase, she didn't hesitate, but made her way above and toward the kitchens. At the threshold, she paused. Voices came from the Great Hall—it sounded as if the party might still be going on, quieter than before, but going on just the same. She moved to peer around the corner, but only saw a handful of dwarves remaining—Dori, Nori, Ori, and two she knew were of Thorin's company, but whose names she didn't know.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she turned back to the kitchens. Black dots danced wildly before her eyes, her pulse pounded through her temples, and she thought she might actually faint as she forced her feet to carry her over to where she heard Brynne and Lono talking.
They were just inside the kitchen, both seated at the long work table, a teapot and two cups on it before them. They were looking at a newspaper or book, Arielle couldn't see which. All she saw were their heads bent over something.
She cleared her throat. "Excuse me. Might I have a word?"
Both heads snapped up and Lono's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to clear the air about.. about me."
"You mean about your lying to us?" he countered, his voice coolly void of any emotion.
Arielle flinched eve as she nodded. "I mean exactly that, yes."
"There is nothing you can say that I have any interest in hearing." Lono folded the newspaper and just stared at her, his gray eyes colder than his voice.
"If I could but explain, you might not feel that way because I did not set out to lie to anyone any more than I absolutely had to."
"How noble of you."
Brynne just stared at her for a long moment, then said, "Why should we believe a word you say? You've lied to us since the very beginning, so what it one more at this point? How do we know you'll spew nothing but lies?"
That stung, although she tried to hold back her wince. Instead, she took a deep breath and just looked from one angry face to the next.
"I did it to help my brother. To keep our roof over our heads." Arielle looked from Brynne to Lono and back. "And I don't expect you to understand that because you live here and you know Thorin—that is, His Highness—will look after you and not raise your rents on a weekly basis and force you to scramble and find whatever work you can because otherwise you will be homeless. Until I came here, I didn't have that luxury of serving a benevolent master. Elen broke his hand and would be unable to serve Thorin—that is, His Highness—as a valet and that meant he'd have lost this position and the very generous wages Thorin—that is—oh forget it! The very generous wages Thorin offered. So, judge me if you wish, but I was just trying to keep my home until Elen was healed and could come and take his rightful place."
"And in addition to lying to us," Lono growled, "you also came in and found your way right into His Highness' bed. Very convenient."
Brynne gasped, but Arielle just glared at him. "Is that what you think?"
"That is what I know."
"Then you also know it is none of your concern where I sleep or with whom I sleep, don't you? And it is definitely none of your concern where your king sleeps or with whom he sleeps, either." She looked from him to Brynne. "I am sorry I lied, but I only lied about my name. My friendship, my looking out for Kusela and the rest of you was all the truth. I cannot fault you for being angry with me, but I hope you will realize why I did what I did and in time, forgive me that."
A hint of sympathy showed in Brynne's dark eyes, but then, without a word, she got to her feet and simply walked out of the kitchen. Lono followed suit, not looking back as he did so and she stood there, alone, shoulders slumped, eyes welling.
"Miss Arielle?"
Arielle stiffed at the sound of Dis' voice and she swiped at her eyes before turning to see Thorin's sister in the doorway. "Yes, my lady?"
"Please," she came into the kitchen in a swish of heavy linen and clacking beads, "there is no need for formality. Anyone mad enough to willingly marry my brother has earned the right to address me by my name alone."
As she spoke, she moved to a cupboard and took down two goblets, then moved to the wine rack and lifted bottle. "Do you like wine?"
Arielle nodded. "I do, thank you." And wine would absolutely hit the spot.
Dis poured two goblets and handed one to her. "It's been an interesting day around here."
Arielle traced her fingertip along the goblet's platinum rimmed edge. "That is one way of putting it, I suppose." She met Dis' blue eyes, which were warm and friendly. "I should apologize to you for my deception as well. I—"
"There is no need," Dis told her, then sipped her wine before continuing, "Thorin told me earlier and I'll admit, I was shocked, but quite impressed that you managed to pull it off for as long as you did."
"I pulled nothing off," Arielle admitted with a wry grin. "Thorin discovered it five days after I arrived."
"To be fair, he spent more time with you." Dis offered a long look. "More than he should have, it seems."
Heat climbed into Arielle's cheeks even as she shook her head. "No. I stopped dressing and undressing him, as well as bathing him, when he figured out I was not my brother."
A wicked gleam danced in Dis' eyes. "And now, you'll resume those very same duties, won't you?"
For the first time since Belle outed her, Arielle laughed. "I suppose I will, yes."
"Are you absolutely certain you wish to marry him? Thorin is not an easy man to live with or love, you know. He broods. He grumps about. He takes everything far more seriously than he ought to."
Arielle stared down at red wine in her goblet, swirling the glass just so to make it slosh up the sides. "I've never been more certain of anything before," she replied softly, looking up to meet Dis' serious gaze. "He's told me what happened at Ravenhill, the part we didn't know about, how he was wounded, what happened to your sons." As Dis stiffened, Arielle reached out to cover her hand. "And I'm so sorry you all had go through that. How horrible it must have been for you."
"He blames himself for what happens to Kili and Fili and I wish he wouldn't. I know my boys. I know how headstrong they are and how reckless they can be, for they are very much as their uncles were at the same age." Dis offered up a sad smile. "Believe it or not, once Thorin Oakenshield was just Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór and he laughed easily and played pranks on people and when he had a pretty girl in his sights... Oh, he and our brother were so much like Kili and Fili are now. He loved to dance, to sing with his friends... he plays the harp, did he tell you that?"
Arielle shook her head slowly, trying to imagine Thorin playing an instrument as delicate as a harp. "No. He's never mentioned it."
"Oh, he does. And beautifully, too, which is a surprise considering his hands are the size of bear paws."
Without thinking, Arielle sighed and said, "And they are as gentle as can be when they love, as well."
Dis smiled, even as hints of color rose above her beard. "I will take your word for that."
Arielle chuckled. "I suppose I should have kept that to myself."
"It's fine." Dis traced her finger along the goblet's stem. "He told me that you make him happy," she said, looking up to meet Arielle's gaze. "And I believe him. It's been a very long time since I've seen him truly happy. It's nice to see."
Arielle couldn't hold back her smile as she lifted her goblet. "I hope I do. Make him happy, that is. He deserves some happiness for a change, from the sounds of it."
"He does." Dis sighed softly. "When my boys were younger, Uncle Thorin was their favorite person in all of Middle Earth. He was never too tired to play, or horse around with them, and I cannot tell you the number of times I would go into their room and find the three of them sound asleep in one of the boys' beds. He'd be reading to them and they'd all just conk out."
"I can see that," Arielle said softly. And she could. Somehow, she just knew he'd have a soft spot for children, would let them climb all over him and wrestle him to the ground and then, at night, she could see herself going to check, only to find him and this child, who at one time was nameless and faceless but now bore the name Durin and had his or her father's beautiful blue eyes and almost-black hair.
It was a lovely image.
"So, for all his faults," Dis was saying, "he is a good man and will be a good husband. And I'd like to welcome you into our family, small as it might be."
"Mine is the same. It's but me and my brother. We lost our mother last winter, when Smaug—"
Dis' blue eyes filled with sympathy. "Oh, I am so sorry. Does Thorin know?"
"To a certain extent, yes, and thank you, but she was sick and that bloody dragon was actually a bit of a blessing for us in that respect, as terrible as that sounds but Mama was sick and terribly so and in so much pain and she—" Arielle clapped a hand over her mouth. "I beg your pardon."
"There is no need to," Dis replied with a soft laugh. Then, she finished her wine and eased down from her stool. "We should probably go and let the staff finish cleaning up. It was lovely to sit and chat with you and I look forward to doing so again."
"Thank you." Arielle smiled, her spirits lighter than they'd been since that morning. "I'd like that, too."
They parted ways there and as she crossed the Great Hall, she spotted Belle on the far side of the room, in the hallway that led to the staircase that would take her down to the level where Thorin's chambers were. Fury churned in her belly as Arielle wasted no time in crossing to her and grabbing her by the arm. "Just where do you think you're going?"
"What the—take your hands off me this minute, half-breed!" Belle growled, trying to jerk her arm free, only to have Arielle grip her tighter.
"Don't you dare," Arielle returned as Belle balled her free hand into a fist, "for if you do, I will hit you back twice as hard and you do not want that."
"I said, take your hands off me!"
Belle swung, but this time, Arielle was ready. She ducked and as she came up, swung back exactly how Elen taught her. This time, her fist connected with Belle's nose with a horrifying—yet oddly satisfying—squelch. Belle stumbled back, and landed hard on her backside, blood pouring from her nose. "You—you hit me!"
"That is for taking it upon yourself to go into my flat and go through my possessions. And you stay away from me and away from Thorin and if you don't, I promise you, I will toss you bodily from the ramparts. Do you understand me?"
Belle's head swiveled about at the small crowd who gawked at them from all around the Great Hall, looking as if she expected one of them to come to her air. Not a soul made a move toward them, however. They all just stared.
"You... peasant," Belle sneered. At least, Arielle thought it was a sneer. It was difficult to tell, as it came out rather garbled thanks to the blood.
"You wound me, truly." Arielle stepped around her and marched from the Great Hall without a backward glance.
But, as she descended and drew near the corridor leading to Thorin's apartments, her hand had begun to throb. It was still sore from the last time she'd hit Belle and now, it was even more bruised and her fingers refused to respond.
"I'll worry about it come tomorrow." She was too tired to care right now. All she wanted to do was lay her head somewhere soft—or preferably, on Thorin's broad chest—and let her eyes close for the night. She didn't even know what time it was, nor did she care. She was just exhausted.
She hesitated at Thorin's door. It didn't seem right to simply open it and let herself in. Not after several weeks of knocking first.
But at the same time, she was no longer really his valet, no longer really his employee, was she? So, it should be perfectly acceptable to walk in, wasn't it?
A low groan rose to her lips as she leaned close to let her forehead thunk against the door. Too many dumb questions. Far too many.
Her hand throbbed as she caught the door handle to turn and as she stepped into the quiet semi-darkness, she stopped dead in her tracks, the pain in her hand forgotten for now.
He was asleep on the sofa once more.
A smile played on her lips at the sight, and Dis' words about how Uncle Thorin would fall asleep cuddling his nephews while he read to them rolled through her mind as well. She could see it so easily, as if she'd actually walked in upon the scene. Thorin with a small child tucked against him, braced by the crook of his arm, the small head resting peacefully against his chest, knowing they were safe in their father's arms.
He would be a wonderful father. Of that she had no doubt. She looked forward to the day when the vision became a reality.
But for now, she had to wake him before he ended up with a sore neck. Again.
She crept over to him, and crouched beside the sofa, her hand hovering above his arm. But then, she rose and carefully eased herself over him, smiling as he sighed softly in his sleep and an arm slid about her waist, his hand coming to rest where her tunic pulled up and away from her leggings to lay warm against her back.
She brushed his lips—just barely touched them—with hers. His fingers twitched against her. She did it again, only a bit harder this time.
His thumb skimmed along her back.
Another kiss and this time, he kissed her back, bringing his other arm up to slip about her waist as well. His lips parted, his tongue slow and teasing as it met hers. He slid one hand up beneath her tunic, along her back, up to her neck, while his other hand skimmed over her backside, cupped one cheek, and pulled her hard against him.
She pulled away slowly, shifting to trace her finger along the curve of his cheek, from somewhat rough skin of his cheek into the soft coolness of his beard. "You fell asleep on the sofa again."
His eyelids rose slowly, and when his gaze met hers, a sleepy smile came to his lips. "I was dreaming about you, mesmel."
"Is that so?"
He nodded, lifting the hand off her backside to bring it up and rub his right eye. "We were up at Ravenhill, near the water, and I didn't mind being up there. It was peaceful and tranquil and I was just... happy."
"It sounds like a lovely dream," she told him, slowing her finger against him. "Have you been up there since that day?"
"No. I've had no desire to ever see it again." His gaze shifted to somewhere over her left shoulder and she didn't press. If he wanted to say anything more on the subject, he would in his own time.
Instead, she resumed stroking along his beard. It fascinated her, how it could be so coarse and so soft at the same time. How was that even possible? Yet, it was. Soft and coarse and dark, with hints of silver woven through it, just like his hair. She could only imagine how devastatingly handsome he was as young dwarf, could only imagine how the dwarf girls and young women chased after him, if that was what dwarf girls and women did. She didn't know. The women and girls of Dale certainly loved to chase the boys and Elen was not immune to their chases, either.
"You've never asked me to see Ravenhill, to take you up there," Thorin broke into her thoughts, his voice soft. "Why is that?"
"Because I know your memories of it are horrendous." She turned to see him looking at her once more. "And why would I ask you relive one of the worst days of your life for my entertainment?"
"Belle asked me to take her up there when she first came here," he replied, a bitter note creeping into his voice. "She wanted to explore because ruins are fascinating, wanted me to regale her with tales of the battle I'd fought up there. She wanted to hear about how many orcs I might have slain, how many goblins."
"Did she know what happened up there? What happened to you and Fili and Kili?"
"No." He met her gaze and shook his head. "When I told her I had no desire to go up there, that my memories of the place were less than pleasant, she couldn't understand why I might feel that way. She said something along the lines of, 'How terrible could it have been? The dwarven army was victorious, wasn't it?' We won, so how terrible could being run through have been?"
"Thorin..."
"You asked me, not because you wished me to entertain you with tales of supposed heroics, but because you saw a scar." His hand came to rest on her back once more. "I planned on dying on that battlefield, Arielle. And you are the first person I've told that to."
"What?"
He nodded. "I meant to die there, chose to do so, actually. I left my armor here, in the armory below, and went out to confront Azog the Defiler knowing full well I would not live to tell the tale."
She could only stare at him in disbelief. "Why?"
"Because of my lies to the people of Esgaroth. Because of my own greed. My own foolish weakness of loving gold than I did my own people. I brought war to Erebor because I did not want to part with a single gold piece. Dying on that field was the only way to redeem myself. Or so I thought."
Her eyes stung at the quiet finality in his deep voice. "Thorin, I..."
"You're horrified, right? Horrified and shocked that I would make such a decision, I'll wager."
"No." She shook her head. "I am just very glad it didn't play out that way."
He started to look away, but when she said that, his gaze snapped back to lock with hers. "What?"
"I said, I'm glad that isn't how it ended for you. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'm glad you're here, with me, with your sister and your nephews and your kin. We all love you, you know."
"I don't deserve it."
"Oh, don't be silly. Of course you do. Everyone deserves it. Well," she hedged, "maybe not Belle, but everyone else."
It was a risk, trying to lighten his mood that way, and for a moment, she regretted saying it as he just stared. But then he smiled and his fingers moved lightly along her back as he murmured, "You can, you know."
"I can what?"
"Ask me about it. Anything you wish to know," his fingers slid beneath her tunic once more, skimming along her back oh-so-nicely, almost making her forget the new pain in her hand, "feel free to ask."
"I want to know everything there is to know about you, Thorin," she murmured, her eyelids growing heavier with each stroke. "But, not at the expense of forcing you to recount things you'd rather leave forgotten."
"Are you falling asleep on me?"
"Actually, yes. I am."
A low rumble of laughter reverberate through his chest. "Come with me, mesmel," he murmured, "and we can sleep in comfort."
She lifted her head. "You wish me to stay here tonight?"
"Why wouldn't I? There's plenty of room in my bed for the two of us. Far more than there is here. And it's far more comfortable as well."
That went without saying, but at the same time, she hesitated. She'd never spent a night in a man's bed before, had never slept beside a man, either, and that morning with him did not count.
"You don't have to, if you'd rather not," he told her, carefully easing out from under her. "But, if you do, things might get interesting if we find we aren't quite as tired as we thought we were..."
As he spoke, he held out a hand and when she laid hers in it, he drew her to her feet and into his arms. A gentle kiss on her lips, and he whispered, "Come with me, amrâlimê. You look dead on your feet."
His hand closed about hers and she involuntarily squeaked as fire tore through it. His eyes narrowed. "What happened now?"
She drew her hand from his and said, "Well, it's entirely possible that I may have punched Belle a second time."
He just stared. "What was that?"
"I went to go apologize to Brynne and Erika and Lono, for all the good it did because they still won't talk to me and I'm fairly certain they absolutely hate me, and when they just walked away from me, Dis came is and she really is quite lovely, Thorin, and we had a glass of wine and we talked and she told me how you used read to Kili and Fili when they were boys and she would come into their room and find the three of you conked out in one of their beds, which I can absolutely see and have to confess, it makes me melt a little on the inside because I think you really will be a wonderful father one day, Mahal willing and—"
"Arielle."
"Oh... sorry..." She took a deep breath and tried again, "I saw Belle on my way back and I'm fairly certain she was coming down here so, I grabbed her arm and told her to back off, and... she tried to hit me again, but I was too fast, and I'm sure I broke her nose when I hit her."
Thorin just stared at her for a moment. "You broke her nose?"
Arielle nodded slowly. "Yes. I think I did, yes."
A low sigh leaked through his teeth as he clapped a hand to his forehead. "Mesmel... you are a menace."
"Well, she was going to hit me first, so I was sort of defending myself, really."
He rubbed his temples. "And the staff still won't speak with you?"
"No. They still hate me."
"So, you've had a fairly lousy day, haven't you?"
"Well, not all of it was bad. It started off pretty nice."
Without warning, he swept her up into his arms and growled, "You are not leaving this chamber this night, givashel. If you're lucky, I'll let you leave my bed come morning."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Yes."