Hello all, this story originally appeared in my Lost Past and Hidden Destiny Story, but I really love the characters so here they are.
Thorin leaned back on is chair and tried to suppress a yawn, the hard oak pressed into his back uncomfortably due to the hours of sitting. The council chamber was warm and stuffy, heated by a massive fireplace in the centre of the marble table; Thorin was slowly being lulled into a sleepy malaise. Rubbing at the tired irritation of his eyes, he ran a hand over his tired face, pulling at his beard in an attempt to keep himself awake.
The council meetings were only supposed to last an hour technically but they always ran late, this one was about to break an all time record. Five hours over schedule, lunch had been missed and supper was beginning to look doubtful.
His father was sitting to his left, sat stern and hard faced at the head of the table. The elders of Erebor talked of politics, the winter corn supply and yield, an increase in nomadic tribes and a new ventilation system for the deeper tunnels. But Thrain's face was still and impassively blank as he let the other Dwarves talk around him.
Encouraged by his grandfather, Thorin tried to make an increasing appearance in these meetings, although generally his mind was on other places, outside in the warm sunshine of Dale or walking along one of the many balustrades in the crisp morning air.
Against the murmuring of political talk, the halls large silver doors opened a little with a creek, allowing the noises of the mountain's buzzing atmosphere to drift in, before closing with a thud cutting them in silence.
White and pale, spooking from the darkness like a phantom, a small figure appeared behind Freorin's chair. Arching her body around over the table and filling his goblet from a large jewelled pitcher.
Her body was small, actually petite compared with other She-Dwarves. Although from what Thorin could make out at a distance, she had pleasing curves hidden under a plain leather bodice and pillowing white shirt with a dark green floor length skirt and apron. But what Thorin really couldn't keep his eyes off was her long dark hair as it patted the small of her back as she bustled her way around the table. Her eyes politely bowed staring at the floor, lowered in humble courtesy.
Like on the face of a clock the minutes ticked by and slowly but surely she made her way around the table of councillors until she was only two chairs away from Thorin. Visibly pale skinned, her jade eyes beamed under lashings of dark wavy hair, which was plaited and neatly pinned back with simple bronze clasps. Her dark sideburns were neatly braided and woven with a thin blue ribbon.
The simplicity of it: not plainness but natural. Thorin could barely hold himself straight in his chair as he gazed at the maid. This was how dwarves were intended to be without all the gaudy decoration they layered themselves in, as Aüle intended.
His mind was abruptly clouded with the smell of sage and cleanly pressed linen. In his moment of realisation he hadn't noticed she was now next to this chair and with a warm crush of fabric she reached forward and began to fill his cup. Inches from the hollow of her throat Thorin's eyes drank her in like a fine wine on a warm day.
On closer inspection she was white and ashen, slight bags purpling under her eyes, and her lips only the palest of pinks. Rosebud pink, plump and ready to be taken.
Twisting her lips into a slight wince, the maid gently set the pitcher down next to him, showing fingers worn red and weathered. Blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face, she rotated her hand as if getting a kink out her wrist, clenching her jaw and frowning as she did so.
Thorin's body made a jerking movement as he realised his body was leaning forward, hand seeking hers. With a cold chill of realisation he snatched back his hand and flung it down on the solid arm of his chair, making a deafening thwack! With echoed mockingly around the rafters of the room.
"You have something to say my Prince?" one of the council members who paused in mid sentenced asked with a raised eyebrow of surprise.
Thorin cleared his throat and shifted nervously, noticing the slightly lingering look of amusement and a suppressed smile that warmed the maid's features as she ducked away behind his chair and carried on her duties. Swallowing hard Thorin tried to push her from his mind and replied unconvincingly to his elder, "I just wanted to show my...support to you motion."
"You support the extension to the lower treasure chamber, very good milord." The elder confirmed and the notary took down the resolution, with mumbles of approval from around the room. And Thorin let out a steady breathe of relief as he gazed at the maid lingeringly as she closed the door behind her. Thorin tried to swallow his embarrassment, women never perplexed him no matter who they were, but this one deeply shaken him and would do for nights to come, her ghostly figure appearing to him in his most carnal of desires, it would haunt him day and night until fate brought them together again.
His father had always been a distant man, pressure of politics and ruling the masses, would cause any dwarf to become despondent. But Thrain was empty, shallow; words seemed to have no or very little effect on him. Only the glimmer of gold could do that, gold was the only love of his life. Thorin suspected a depression after his mother had past but this was a complaint of the soul.
Thorin held himself tight against the shadows as the Kings guard did his father's bidding. Yes, gold was his father's only love now, even over his own people.
He closed his eyes and swallowed bile and guilt, pressing his body further in the wall behind him, as yet another family was ripped from their homes by the King's men. Thorin had to actually turn his face away when as a frail old Dwarf was thrown to the floor, the old Dwarf turned his body, hands outstretched and pleading "Please where are we to go? My family has lived in these halls for hundreds of generations. I'm sure there has been some kind of misunderstanding," His voice was paper thin, weak and shaking his hands shook as he pulled down on the guards tunic.
Strong and surly, the guard shoved the man away without remorse or pity, "Are you calling the King mistaken? That sounds like rebellion talk to me don't you think Funir?" He turned with a smile to his comrade and started to withdraw his sword.
Muscles tensed in anger, Thorin was about to slit the guards throat for the blasphemous use of his grandfather's name but suddenly out of the empting halls the phantom who had been haunting his dreams sprang forward, arms defiantly outstretched ,shielding the cowering man with her small body. She looked at them wildly, jaw clenched and challenging.
"Please!" her voice was strong but her eyes pleaded. "He means no harm. How can it be the King's wish to have people thrown out of their home without anytime to collect belongings or seek shelter elsewhere? Are your orders really to target old warriors who pledged their lives to King under the Mountain?" She demanded staring obstinately up at the largest guard holding his sword raised high.
"Another revolutionary, we know what to do with the pretty rebels like this one don't we Agmir," The smaller one had advanced now leering down at her with a smirk he viciously snatched a fistful of the women's braid and with a gasp of pain she sank to her knees as he twisted his fist tighter into her hair.
The guard froze as her felt Thorin's blade biting into his throat. Blinded with rage he'd moved without thinking. "Is it really my father's wish that you treat its honourable citizens like dogs, kicking them out into the cold?" His voice was barely audible growl in the soldiers' ear but everyone froze, too shocked to fully react. The Dwarf swallowed, his Adam's apple pressing against the blade, cold sweat growing on his brow.
"Milord we were only doing as commanded, the new extensions to the treasure vault mean that..." The other guard stammered but his words were cut off as Thorin pushed the Dwarfs body away from his, violated by a sudden rush of nausea.
"Clear out your barracks; make beds and hospitality available to all who need it." He barked commands at the guards who nodded hurriedly casting his eyes about the flame lit corridor; twenty families huddled together in silence, clinging to each other in support. They looked on at him with cold searching eyes.
"Lady," He let his blade lower itself to the floor as his eyes stared down at the She Dwarf in front of him. Lips parted slightly, her eyes were quivering jade fires of confusion, they searched his face but apart from a slight crinkle of the eyebrows his face was a mask of impassiveness.
Suddenly Thorin felt the gazes on him like a heavy burden or like rats in a sewer, it made his skin crawl.
"Go!" The Prince of Erebor is always respected; bystanders jumped at his bark and scuttled away quickly. The girl too, scrambled to leave but as she gathered her skirts, Thorin stopped her by grabbing a fistful of apron, suppressing the urge to pull her body against his, he merely held her in place.
Letting out a little gasp she whirled around, fumbling slightly, she curtsied, eyes down cast in respect. "Your majesty," Her voice was quiet, like honey running slowly through hot water. Thorin had to stifle a shiver that ran up his spine.
"Who are you?" it came out sterner than he intended, his nails bit into the palm as his tummy squirmed in nerves.
"I am Lifthrasir, daughter of Mimir but many simply call me Lif." Her penetrating eyes flicked nervously to his face and back down to the floor.
Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew of Mimir, he'd fought with him even but Mimir was dead and gone. Having been the only one to speak about the dangers of the Akenstone, Mimir was exiled out of Erebor never to return, soon after he threw himself off one of the many battlements in disgrace and shame. But Thorin had been unaware of a daughter, let alone any children.
"And you desired to stay in Erebor even though your father..." He asked tentatively, wanting to gain further understanding of the women before him.
At the mention of her father her eyes blazed with passionate anger. "My father was wise and loyal and for all his loyalty to the throne he was rewarded with shame. I am the last of my father's name and I will not shrink in fear of retribution." Her face was a grim mask but flushed with a warming glow like she had been stood in front a furnace, she growled her words through clenched teeth.
Thorin actually smiled, unguardedly, Lif was refreshingly unmoved by Thorin's royal standing. "Then your courage does your house credit. Not many would have defended the vulnerable like you did." He tilted his head down slightly catching her eye, causing a little smile to warm her complexion. "Someone's got too" her eyes crinkled in amusement.
"Well you shouldn't have to. I do believe that's my job," Thorin chuckled unexpectedly, dragging a hand through his long black hair. "Will you go and join the others?" a mild sounding question but heavy with silent meaning for Thorin.
"No, I have no family; it would not be my place. I would not be welcome there." She said flatly, looking uneasily away down towards the flickering torch lights of the corridor.
"Stay with me," the words sprung from his mouth before he knew what he was truly saying but his body wanted to be near her so desperately and the need grew urgently with every waking second.
Lif's face was a perfect picture of shock, her mouth fumbling silently to form words. "My Lord, I don't even know you...you, you presume..." her face turned to revulsion and she began to back away from him.
Suddenly the penny dropped for Thorin and his cheeks burned red in embarrassment. "No! Aüle no, that's not what I meant. I was not asking you...you to be my love...mmistress, I swear on the Durin line. You are a stunning She Dwarf but..." He stopped talking and stewed in his mortification for a bit, looking from her defensive stance, down to his feet then up to meet her eyes. He also tried desperately not to think of the illicit images running through his head or how good it would feel to have her long hair tickling the length of his body. It was a herculean effort to think of anything but her.
His steady gaze was pale and cool under the flushed colour of his skin. In the flickering light, dressed in royal blue and standing nearly half a foot taller than her, Prince Thorin was both beautiful and chilling.
"A royal retainer who can speak frankly without any political ties would be of use to me." He stated plainly and without emotion.
Relaxing a little, Lif smiled challenging up at his face. "You wouldn't be popular in the court. It would be more respectable if I were something more acceptable to my station." Thorin nodded, the court could be a hot bed of gossip.
"If you are more comfortable, you may choose your own position. But we must be quick, supper will be served soon and it doesn't do well to anger my father." Thorin saw a flicker of fear pass over her face and in a rash movement he extended his hand and gently unravelled a braid that had come undone under the grip of the guard's paw.
Although an intermit and teasing movement, Lif didn't flinch away, she merely kept her face coolly titled up towards his. Thorin was in inner turmoil; her hair was like melting snow in the palm of his hand. Oh Damn Aüle, how his body ached to press his lips into her hair and caress the soft skin of her neck.
"You said I was stunning," she said mildly, her eyes taking in the Prince before her. The look on Thorin's face was unreadable, a quagmire of inner emotions played upon his face for only a second. He let his strong hand fall silently from her shoulder but retained his eye contact. Lif's eyes danced with different shades of spring green as she studied him.
He intrigued her and he hated her for making him want her even more. Suddenly he turned on his heel and marched in the other direction. "Come on! I cannot be late!" calling over his shoulder he worked away into the dim light while the heat of Lif's body pressed against him as she jogged to keep up.
"Women grow cold Thorin." His father had preached this lesson to Thorin before, many times, and in fact he had heard it so many times that he knew what words were coming next.
"The warmth of a woman can only last through the nights, while gold will keep you warm for eternity." Thrain ran a long finger over the rim of his jewelled goblet, gazing down at the dazzling reflection that his hand made in its shiny service.
"Political alliances are how the line of Durin has grown so strong." His eyes looked up from his goblet with feverish intensity, quivering dull blue hidden slightly under hooded eyelids. "Love is the thing of elves and men, simple minded weaklings. The warmth of a She-Dwarves' thighs is only as good as the gold she brings to the table, do you hear me Thorin?" His old fragile frame turned back to his goblet and stared mesmerised at the precious metal. For his part Thorin sat silent, mulling in quiet resentment of his father's words. When he was a boy, he and his sister had been in awe of their mother and father's marriage, so full of love and life but after his mother's death Thorin had realised it was all a convenient sham. No love had conceived Dis or himself, they we're merely obligatory trophies to be hung on a shelf.
"Love is for weak men, small, pitiful men who let their cocks rule their body like an Orc controls a Warg." Thrain scoffed and slurped a mouthful of wine from his cup. Thorin clung white knuckled to the arms of his chair and listened in silence.
"Mark my words well son, love is not for the likes of us. We are made of stone, Dwarves with strong arms and cold hearts. The Kings of Erebor must endure and with it the great line of Durin, no matter the well- bred pig you have to ride to ensure it." Thrain's chalice now empty, he waved it blindly in the air for a refill, his words slightly slurred.
"The Arkenstone is the heart of the mountain and to keep the heart going we need royal blood, the thicker the better. Noble born and rich, wet with gold my boy! Wet with gold!" Thorin had only understood Thrain's crude words when he had reached maturity but even now the bitterness and screeched laughter as Thrain slapped Thorin on the back made his stomach flip with disgust.
Ignoring his father's raucous laughter, Thorin drained his goblet and refilled it and drained it again, a drunken stupor would be the only thing to stave of nightmares tonight; nightmares of what he may have to do to guarantee Durin's line.
Comment and tell me what you think. Nice reviews make me write quicker.
Really trying to get this done before my exams hit because at the moment I'm putting off doing essays to write this, Now that is commitment!
The next chapter coming soon, so keep reading!