In which Thorin has a visitor.
Thorin sat on the small veranda at the end of the hallway, his boots propped up on a small table, pipe in hand, staring up at the looming rock wall above him. Normally he would have taken some amount of comfort from the rocks and stones surrounding him as he suspected Lord Elrond had hoped he would, but here in Imladris with the weight of the quest constant on his mind and his fears of the elves interference, the towering stone felt more like a great wall preventing his departure. True, Elrond had been an exemplary host and there had been no hostility shown him nor his company. In fact, Thorin was grudgingly aware just how much he owed to the elf lord. He had welcomed his company into his home, fed and supplied them, to say nothing of his healing both Bofur and Ms. Sara in such a short time. This the elf lord had done, all the while showing great patience toward him, his company, and the watch which Dwalin had insisted they station outside the girls room. Thorin could well understand the warriors deep held prejudice of the elves as Thorin himself still held much resentment towards them, but unlike Dwalin he knew they were in no position to be selective who they sought aid from. He also knew they could not afford to insult the elves but Thorin had given in to the warriors wishes, mostly to put Dwalin at ease, but there was also a small part of himself that was comforted by the idea and he was glad the idea had been suggested by someone other than him.
This plan had indubitably made Gandalf irritable and the wizard had tried to sway them but he had apparently underestimated just how attached the warrior had grown to Ms. Sara. In the end the Gandalf had stormed off telling them to do as they pleased but warned Thorin that he would have to work all the harder to be pleasant around Elrond. Thorin didn't think he could be pleasant to an elf, so had settled for as polite as he could manage, which usually meant simply, or not so simply, holding his tongue and not speaking unless necessary. Indeed, he had found tonight's dinner to be rather trying. Gandalf had insisted they ask Elrond about runes on the swords they had found in the troll hoard, and it had been rather reluctantly that Thorin had surrendered the exquisitely made blade to the elf lord. The fact that the weapons were crafted by elves came as little surprise to them as Gandalf had already suspected as much. What had surprised Thorin was the two swords apparent notoriety as they were rather famous blades made by the High Elves in Gondolin for the Goblin Wars of old. The two blades were named Orcrist as was Thorin's and Glamdring as was Gandalf's. Thorin's heart had sunk when Elrond has spoken of the swords and their history knowing that they must be of great value and he already missed the familiar weight of Orcrist in his hand. But the elf lord had done something then that he had not expected, Elrond had returned the weapons to he and Gandalf with a wish that they keep them well. Thorin had fully expected Lord Elrond to insist that the swords remain with him for had the roles been reversed he could not see himself, nor indeed any dwarf, surrendering such a magnificent blade to an elf. Gandalf, on the other hand, did not seem phased in the least and thanked the elf eloquently and turned to look at Thorin who had recovered quickly accepting the blade form Elrond and pledged to wield Orcrist with honor. It was then, however, that the conversion had turned sour, for elf lord would know how they came to possess such heirlooms of his house. This topic lead dangerously close to their purpose for being on the great East West road. Thorin was well aware that Gandalf had not yet revealed to the elf lord their quest and he took this moment to excuse himself and leave the wizard to the finer nuances of sidestepping Elrond's searching questions. Not wishing to endure the company of any other elves just now he returned to his room, but finding himself too restless for sleep he had retired to the veranda with his pipe, and here he sat feeling no better than he had before.
Much weighed heavy on Thorin's mind of late and not just the elves. There was also the question of who wanted him dead enough to hire mercenaries and an orc pack to track him. Clearly it was not someone of small repute. The thugs he could imagine being hired by many a person and he could even think of some who would have a motive, but he could not believe that any of these individuals would be so desperate or foolish to have turned to orcs. That would be like inviting a dragon into one's treasury to discuss payment and expecting to live to see the sunrise. He was not sure what he should do. True he was safe from threat at the moment tucked away here in Rivendell, but it could not last. Soon, he hoped, the company would be moving on into wilder and more treacherous country. He knew his dwarves were in it for the thick and thin of things and that even if he were to try and send them back they would not go, insisting they continue the quest till death if he led. But Thorin felt uneasy with the continued presence of the hobbit and girl. His dwarves were one thing, they could look out for themselves, and had joined the quest expecting no small amount of trouble; but the two additions were not prepared for such violence, and though they had both shown their tenacity in moments of great peril, they were neither one of them prepared for the dangers he feared were ahead. It would be poor gratitude to the girl who is saved his kin and the young scribe to lead her into the waiting arms of an orc pack again. She had barely come through the last skirmish with her life and if it had not been for the skills of Elrond, he was sure she would have been lost.
And then of course there was the girl who unbidden filled many of his thoughts of late. Her and his reckless nephew's offer. What had Fili been thinking, to make an offer of heart sister to this girl from another world? Thorin had never heard of such a thing. Make a human girl a heart sister? And not just any heart sister, for should his whelp of a nephew succeed, unlikely he thought, that same girl would then carry the title of Princess of Erebor. He snorted. A human girl become a dwarf princess? Ridiculous! But Thorin had seen that look in Fili's eyes before, and already know his sister son to be stubborn and determined just as he was, which was usually an asset but would prove a problem in this instance. Thorin did not, however, blame the girl for the current situation, for he knew Fili had not thought to explain his offer before it was made. The boy was young and reckless. Thorin suspected that had Ms. Sara known she would not have accepted, for he remembered her determination and intent to return to her own world in the future, whenever that happened. So he had turned to Balin for aid with this mess and had asked his old friend to search for a way that the offer could be broken or proved invalid, for he was loath to have to inform his sister of their current situation, that her son had made such an outlandish offer.
Thorin sat massaging his temples as he thought, his pipe now set to the side. He also had to admit that Ms. Sara seemed to have crept into his thoughts more and more, and he was not sure why she should occupy so much of his idle mind. She was an enigma to be sure, and not just the fact that she came to them from another world by the will of the Valar with some as yet unknown purpose. She herself was a riddle, and he found himself teasing at it in quiet moments. How had she integrated herself so fully into his band of dwarves, for in truth there was not a one of them that had not come to enjoy her companionship. This surprised him for he knew several of them to be particularly leery of outsiders, Dwalin being chief among those, and yet the warrior had grown closer to the girl than any save his nephews. Thorin was aware of the warrior's intent to train her for he had overheard their conversation the night Dwalin was on watch. The girls determination to become stronger and more able, despite what he himself might have to say about it, had surprised him. Despite his words to Sara in front of the inn that first day, he found himself approving of the plan to train the her. Indeed it seemed that there were several among their number who could use more combat training. Ori for sure, for the dwarf scribe had frozen at a crucial moment and had Sara not acted he would surly heavily injured if not dead. Thorin would also see to it that the hobbit be taught the basics of combat with a sword. Thorin snorted shaking his head. A hobbit trained in combat, it was preposterous, but he had to admit that Master Baggins had surprised him when he had leapt at at the warg to save Sara. It was so unlike a hobbit. If the girl and hobbit were to continue with them, as he was sure Gandalf would insist despite the danger, it could hardly hurt to have them better able to defend themselves. With this thought in mind he stood and tucked his now empty pipe back into his pocket and left to find Dwalin to discuss the training of the company.
Thorin found the hall quiet and guessed the company was still at dinner. When he arrived in the dining hall he found his companions, but none save Balin, Bifur, and perhaps Nori were in a fit state to carry on a coherent conversation, so drunk were they on elvish wine. Dwalin and Bofur were apparently in a fierce contest of wills as they downed glass after glass, and Nori sat watching them highly amused as Bofur belted out a song Thorin was unfamiliar with, something about everybody rocking their bodies. He strode over and kicked at two familiar pairs of boots sticking out from under the table and heard Fili and Kili snore together loudly. Dori, Ori, and Gloin were in the midst of their own drinking contest while Balin, Bifur and Oin looked on making bets as to who would win. Thorin suspected that there would be many a pounding head come morning and frowning he turned again towards his room not seeing the thief follow behind him in the shadows.
The halls were mostly empty and he reached his quarters without incident, but as he reached for his door handle he saw the door stood ajar. He drew Orcrist silently from its sheath; no one was in the hall and all was quiet. He pushed the door open with a foot, weapon at the ready, but all was in place in his room and nothing looked disturbed. He began to search the room but there were not many places for an assailant to hide. Thorin had just pushed aside the heavy floor length curtains that hung in front of the rooms tall window when her heard a soft snore. He froze in place listening for the sound. It came again… form the direction of his bed. Quietly he turned and stepped cautiously closer to the bed now bathed in moonlight. There was indeed a body curled under the sheets tucked between the pillows, but the blankets were pulled high and Thorin could not see a face. Holding Orcrist ready he reached out carefully and drew back the cover. His breath hitched in his chest, for there in his bed lay Sara; the girl who had so recently been frequenting in his mind was now apparently frequenting his bed as well. He let his sword fall to his side uncertain what to do. Why was she here in his chambers? But as he had pulled back the sheets further the sweet scent of wine had reached him and he guessed at the truth. Indeed her cheeks were red and flushed. The girl was curled around one of his pillows clutching it with both arms and legs, her hair falling messily around her face. Should he move her? He wished to retire but was not about to slide in next to her, though the bed was big enough and then some. He also did not want to be seen carrying her to her own room. Dwalin's raised eyebrows when he had draped his cloak over her and his nephews after the river had been about all the warrior's amusement he could stand and he did not wish to add fuel to that particular flame. He also knew, however, the longer he delayed the more likely that possibility would grow, for surely some of the others would return to from the dining room sooner rather than later; even if some never found their way back this evening. The sooner she was moved, he resolved, the better; there was less risk of being spotted. He reached forward and shook her shoulder gently.
"Ms. Sara." She did not respond. He drew the blankets back further letting the cool night air fall on her as he called again, louder this time. "Ms. Sara." She gave a small moan and grasped for the covers which he pulled out of her reach and leaned forward to shake her shoulder again. "Ms. Sara, wake up!" She rolled over and peered up at him blearily.
"Go away Kiwi, I'm sleeping." She rolled over again. "Go bug Fili." Thorin sheathed Orcrist and reached for her, rolling her over and grabbing her shoulders, lifted her slightly.
"I'm not Kili and this is my room. If anyone's going anywhere it's you," he said. Her eyes opened a bit more as she scowled up at him.
"It is to my room. Fili said it was the second door on the left, and this is the second door on the left. Now go away. I'm tired." She pushed against his chest and fell back on the bed rolling over once more, her back to him, gripping the pillow all the tighter. He stood straight again drawing in a long deep breath. She was being impossible.
"Ms. Sara, for the last time, get up. You are in the wrong room." She muttered something incoherent burying her face in his pillow. "You refuse to move?" he asked. She nodded her head slightly.
"Go away and let me sleep Kili, go prank someone else." Thorin growled in irritation and ripped the sheets off the bed entirely, leaned forward, and scooped the stubborn girl into his arms, pillow and all. He would simply have to take her to her own bed; then he could be quit of her. That was the plan anyway, until she began to squirm and wriggle trying to fight him off. He struggled to keep his grip on her as he stepped away from the bed intent on moving her when one of her flailing elbows connected with his jaw. In the same moment his feet tangled in the bed cover on the floor and he felt himself topple over backwards, his head bouncing off the hard floor. The girl was still atop him in his arms, unharmed, but also unstill.
"Ms. Sara!" he called catching her wrists in his hands to avoid being hit again as she continued to fight against him. "I will not harm you," he assured, but the girl continued to flail. He thought to roll her over and pin her beneath him so as to keep her still and in a moment he was looking down on her. She was still struggling. "Sara! Stop!" he thundered. Her eyes popped open filled with wild panic and desperation. He had not apparently accounted for all her limbs and as her knee came up between his legs he hissed in pain and collapsed on top of her. Thankfully, the girl finally grew still.
"Mr. Thorin" came her voice from under him. When he lifted himself slightly to look up at her it was to see her staring up at him in shock and confusion, some lucidity returning to her eyes. "Mr. Thorin?" she asked. "What are you doing here in my room? What happened? Where is Kili?" Stifling a groan, he rolled off her heavily and onto his back laying still for a few moments before speaking. She pushed herself into a sitting position, head swiveling this way and that taking in her surroundings.
"I am here in my room. It's you who are out of place Ms. Sara," he said taking measured breaths. "You must have mistook me for Kili" he snapped rather irritably as he moved gingerly to his hands and knees. "Or do you look for my nephew to visit you at night?" He looked at her sitting among the blankets on the floor her face looking confused and a bit nauseous as she swayed a bit. "As to what happened, I found you asleep in my bed and I was attempting to return you to yours."
"I don't feel so good," she said looking ill. She had probably not even heard what he had said. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to reign in his frustration with this girl.
"I'm sure you don't," he said ruefully. "I saw you eating those cakes like a starving man at dinner this evening. Whatever did you go and eat so many for?" The coherent look in her eyes was slipping again.
"Cakes? The ones Kili and Filly were giving me? Yes!" she said loudly. "Can I have another one please Kiwi?" Thorin thought he was beginning to get a clearer picture of the evening's events. Tomorrow he would have to put his nephews through their paces and then some for good measure, sore heads or no. Slowly but steadily he got up and came to grasp her elbow helping her to her feet. She looked up at him wobbling precariously.
"Come, I will see you back to your room." He let go of her and took a step back to assess her. "Can you walk straight?" he asked. She nodded and began to walk to the door, for some reason trying to place one foot directly in front of the other with each aimless step. It was clear that she would not manage on her own as she stumbled and had to grasp the bedpost to keep from falling. He stepped to her side and looked down at her pale face as her knees gave out and she sank the floor.
"If I carry you," he asked taking her small gloved hand in his. "Will you fight me again?" She had struck him a rather good blow and he was he was not overly anxious to have it repeated. He waited for her answer but she just shook her head, looking at the floor. Carefully, he reached for her and when she did not protest he lifted her once again into his arms, but instead of struggling she lent into him laying her head softly on his shoulder and gripped his shirt in her small hands. He could smell the flowers in her hair as he walked to the door which was still slightly ajar and toed it open. He looked out his door and down the hallway and was relieved to see it empty. Quickly, he moved to her door and carefully adjusted his grip on the girl so he could grasp the door handle awkwardly. Sara reached her arms up around his neck and her hot breath ghosted across the skin under his jaw sending goosebumps across the back of his neck. He needed to put her down and now. Stepping quickly to the bed he sat her down gently, her legs dangling over the edge. Not a moment too soon, for as he released her she leaned forward and emptied the contents of her stomach … right on his boots. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose trying not to grind his teeth as the girl fell back on the bed apparently exhausted. Trying not to breathe in the fumes, he removed his boots and padded to her bathroom to collect a towel. He wiped off his boots as best he could; luckily she had only soiled the toes. He wiped the mess from the floor and threw the dirty towel in the tub and after washing his hands returned to her bedside to retrieve his boots.
He looked down at the now sleeping girl, still frustrated with her antics. How could one person be so much trouble? But he found as he watched her that his anger ebbed away. He lifted her feet onto the bed and pulled the covers up over her body and was about to leave when he spied the flowers still in her hair. Setting down his boots down again, he gently reached forward and untangled Bifur's crown of flowers from her dark locks. Her hair was soft and he had to admit as he let it slip through his fingers that he preferred the dark color to the unnatural blue. When she had entered the dining hall earlier that evening it had been quite the spectacle as a dwarves gathered around her to see the change for themselves. Thorin had watched the exchange from his seat next to Gandalf, and even Elrond had commented on the change and questioned how her hair had come to be blue to begin with; another dangerous topic but Thorin had been too distracted to hear how the wizard answered. He had watched as the company flocked to her, many reaching to touch her hair, Bofur several times. It had not only been the dwarves, for Thorin had seen several of the elf males watching her as well, and he was suppressed by the urge her felt to hide her away from others gaze. He had been struggling with himself for several days now where the girl was concerned and had been avoiding her after he knew her recovery was assured. He had not been very successful in driving her from his mind and when she had arrived at dinner that night her hair restored to a natural color he was satisfied to know it was similar to his in hue. The dress she wore was simple in design but fit her well, and he found the dark blue a very comely color on her. He had also admitted, rather grudgingly, that her bare feet drew his eyes more than they should have. Even when her leg and foot had been injured, she had still worn socks or boots so her small feet were something new.
He stared down at her now and placed the flower crown on the table next to her bed. The red in her cheeks was receding and his eyes were drawn to the dark freckles that seemed to proliferate on her face. Freckles were an oddity to him as dwarves very rarely had them, and never in such numbers or darkness, but he found they enhanced her features. He was startled to see that he still held her hair in his fingers and dropped it, but not before running his fingers over the small braid behind her right ear. The feeling in his stomach returned and he quickly reached for his boots and went to her door. Glancing back one last time at the sleeping girl he then checked the hall. It would do him no good for any of the others to see him leaving the Girls room, especially with boots in hand. He slipped silently back through his door closing it behind him and bent to pick up the fallen bedding. Having restored his chambers to a sense of order he readied himself for rest and slipped between the sheets. There was a sweet but faint scent that lingered on the pillow beneath his head and he found himself turning his face to breathe in the inviting smell. After a few minutes spent thus, his eyes dropped closed in a more restful sleep and he had known for many months. Out in the hallway Nori slipped from the shadows and back to the others.