i
Lorena reached out towards her brother, tears filling her eyes. She watched the arrows pierce his chest and was helplessly standing by, unable to do anything. As a merchant's daughter she had never had cause to take up arms. Her town of origin was well guarded and The Shire seldom saw troubling things ahead. But now she was forced to witness the brutal murder of her family. How she wished they would have stayed home. She should have not insisted that they go trade in the human village. Lorena had not even thought that something like this could happen to them.
One of those vile creatures approached had set itself upon her father. Lorena closed her eyes and prayed. The moment the attack started she had been pushed deep in the cart, hidden amongst fabrics. Her father lay slain before her when she dared open her hazel orbs. Blood gurgled from the cut on his throat as the orc impaled the dying man a few more times. A tiny cry left Lorena's lips before she could stop it. The orc heard it and grinned evilly in her general direction. The beast spoke in its own tongue, cruel words and taunts. Its companion said something in agreement and both started towards Lorena.
However, before they could reach her, a rain of arrows fell upon them. Warriors poured in the clearing, cutting through the orcs at amazing speed. The massive bodies dropped to the floor, blood spilling out of open wounds and staining the emerald grass. As the noise stopped around her, Lorena jumped out of her hiding place, face red and eyes glassy. She climbed out of her spot and disbelievingly glanced at the body of her brother. Her hands automatically went to cover her mouth, she turned to her father, only to see him in much the same state.
"Father," she called, kneeling next to the corpse. "Brother," she tried again, shaking her sibling's shoulder. "Don't leave me." The words came as a pained whimper, her voice rising with the grief. "Don't go, please! Please!" A hand touched her shoulder, but she shook it off. "Daddy, wake up. Wake up, we have to go. Brother, please!" Her cries remained unanswered.
"They are gone child," a voice spoke fro behind Lorena. "There is no more you can do for them." The same hand clasped her shoulder forcing the girl to her feet. "We cannot stay here." At the uncontrolled sobs that left Lorena, the woman touched the Halfling's hair. "Your wound is fresh, child, but keep faith that you will heal."
The hobbit shook her head. She would not heal. How could she? Her father and brother had been taken away from her. How would she ever get past it? "You might have let me go with them. You should have just let me meet my end."
Golden hair fell in front of Lorena's eyes as the tall woman lifted her chin. "Forgive us, we could not save your family but you live and you will get through the worst. Give it time, child." Lorena sniffed, tears still falling. "Tell me, what do they call you?"
"Lorena," she answered simply. For the first time she registered that before her stood an elven lady. A graceful being of light, with shining hair and bright eyes the colour of the sky. "My lady," she added almost absently.
"I am Cuilwen, little one," the lady introduced herself, smiling kindly. "Come with us for we for the time being. We shall find someone to return you to your home."
"There is nothing to return to," the Halfling softly declared. "They were the only ones I had left of this earth. Now I am alone. Nobody's." Tears took hold of her once more. "Leave without me, my lady, for I shall find my own way."
Cuilwen's face turned to stone, cold determination dominating her fair features. "You shall come with us. I shan't leave you to fend for yourself. If you say none waits for you, then join us on our toad and you may settle down wherever you find your place." The lady brushed her finger against a tearstained cheek. "None are to be left behind."
In the end Lorena had to agree. It had been no lie that no one waited for her in the Shire. Her mother had died in childbirth a few years after Lorena had been born and the babe had not survived the night either. Father had not taken another wife and her brother had lacked the courage to engage the girl he liked in any sort of conversation. Lorena was a season shy of becoming an adult yet she was more interested in her book rather than social gatherings.
Hobbits were a convivial folk in their entirety. Of course there were the few odd cases that constituted the exceptions. Lorena was one of those few, crippled by her shyness. Once one got to know her she was great company but until that point she had the tendency of hiding from any sort of contact. If only for a brief moment the girl wished she had been different, made more friends. She would not be alone if not for her nature.
"I shall come with you," Lorena decided. Cuilwen bowed her head gently, the ghost of a smile passing along her lips.
"Sidhion," she called out to a fellow man of her kind, "kindly take the girl on your horse. She will be travelling with us."
The one called Sidhion bent to pick Lorena up. His hands completely encircled her waist as he set her upon his white steed. The horse nickered softly at the foreign weight on his back. "Do not be afraid," Sidhion tried to calm his new road companion, "Lairion is just surprised at your presence. He is not used to you yet," the elf added.
No words passed Lorena's lips. She was tired and consumed by her grief, she wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere and close her eyes to an endless night. But the Valar would not let her rest yet, it seemed. She was alive, as much as it pained her, she was breathing; air filled her lungs and got expelled in a trembling breath. She was alive.
For many days she lived by the barest of contacts with the elves. Cuilwen tired her best to comfort the girl but it was no easy task with a wound so deep and new. Time would heal her. Sidhion did not fare all that well either. He tried getting the girl to speak but Lorena replied in clipping words to the questions she was asked and then fell silent. The only sounds she made were her cries deep in the night as nightmares tormented her in the dark hours. Blood invaded her dreams nightly and the horror did not leave her even in the light of day.
Gone was the first week of her stay with the elves when they decided something had to be done for her. She was barely eating and her body weakened as her soul sunk into a fading state. Lorena had no desire to live yet her heart continued to beat in her chest. They tried everything they knew of but the ice in her hazel eyes was there to stay as was the bareness of her soul. The void inside of her grew and grew.
"All my loved ones are gone," Lorena said suddenly, one sunny morning, as Lairion trotted over grassy plains. "I thought that the world was ending when I saw it. I thought that my world was done for. But you know, the following day the sun still came up in the sky, the wind had not stopped blowing and I was still breathing."
"You are stronger than even you know," Sidhion told her seriously. "What happened to you is most unfortunate and had it been one of my soul sisters they would have not survived it. But you did. You pulled through the ruins. I think your father and brother are happy for you right now."
"Have you lost any of those you held close to your heart?" Lorena asked, her voice flat, devoid on any emotion. "You do not have to tell me if you do not wish it."
"Nay," Sidhion answered, "I am one of those with a kind fate. I have yet to lose any of those I cherish."
"Good." She shifted atop Lairion before adding, "Keep them close and try to enjoy the time you have with them."
As if the ice had cracked, Lorena started making small talk every now and again. The elves could see something had changed in her. It seemed that she had made her peace with the deaths around her. No power could make things any different and she had to live with that. Her shoulders would forever sting with the burden of being partially responsible. In her mind, Lorena thought that it was at her insistence that they left the Shire. How could the pained daughter know that her father and brother would have left anyway even if she had not been as adamant?
"Learn to forgive yourself and the ghosts haunting you will slowly disappear," Cuilwen advised sagely. The blonde haired elf looked upon Lorena with no small amount of fascination. "Do not give up while there is breath in your body."
"Does it help?" Lorena wondered out loud. "Does it really make a difference whether I keep my faith or not?"
"Without faith we are nothing," Cuilwen stated firmly. "Outside of it we are barren not only in body but in mind and soul as well. The Valar watch upon us and we owe them our devotion."
"Be it as you say." The hobbit inclined her head in thought.
Elf and Halfling rode along the line, the start of something between them.
ii
Golden wheat shone in the bright day light. The sun combed the fields with its rays, the road winding in front of the travellers. Wide open space spread out like a whole world waiting to be discovered. The frost had gone as summer pushed against the white lady of cold halls. The air itself was laden with the scent of renewal, sky painted in the colours of life. Mixed energies danced all around, new life springing forth from the fertile soil, and old beings were awakening to a cycle they knew so well. Lorena inhaled deeply, letting everything wash over her.
"It is good to see you smiling," Cuilwen claimed, eyes shining brightly. "It suits you very well."
Lorena face regained its expressionless state, her hand travelling to the sword at her side, "I do not smile. You eyes are playing tricks on you, my lady."
"That cannot be," Sidhion intervened in an amused voice, "my lady had the best eyes you shall ever find."
"Apparently not," countered Lorena dispassionately, "she thought me to smile." Despite her words a small grin made her lips curve.
"I must say that you are indeed smiling," the male elf noted without any gravity.
"Oh no, my image will be ruined." The grin on Lorena's face only grew. "What will the world say now?"
"That you are a sight to behold when in a jovial mood," inferred the she-elf.
Over the course of the seasons she spent with them, Lorena had formed a special friendship with the Lady Cuilwen and Lord Sidhion. The two were aunt and nephew but most would suppose them sister and brother. This stemmed from the fact that when together they tended to act as children would. Lorena was pulled into their game quite unwillingly. In time however they grew on her. No longer was she alone in the world. They became an undivided trio, getting into all sorts of situations together. Her new family she loved to bits, Lorena had no idea what she would have done without them.
"Sweet Eru," the brunette complained mockingly, "someone help me be rid of you. Hoodlums! Look at you pestering a defenceless maiden."
"Are we to understand that you are as excited as us then?" Cuilwen dared her with a sharp look. "You seem to be."
Both elves laughed at her less than ladylike gesture. Lorena resumed her neutral appearance. Although she had started healing, the process was a small one with many hitches along the way. There were times when she could barely manage a small curl of her lips and the there were days when she even laughed. They had long agreed upon taking everything in strides. But fate had other ideas.
From behind them a terrible sound came, with it a flood of memories for Lorena. "Orcs!" she screamed, recognising the growls and harsh sounds. Her heart had already started beating erratically in her chest and fear filled her to the brim. Orcs, again. When would she ever escape this nightmare?
Those of the group that could fight had taken up arms. It was not long before, stamping through the grass, the enemy was upon them. They fought bravely, they thought hard but the orcs were many. The odds were against them. Lorena relieved the blinding terror, the petrifying fear. Many were lost. Many lay dying on the earth. But with great effort they somehow managed to drive the attackers away. In their wake a field of blood and wounds remained.
"Lorena, come here!" Cuilwen yelled from her spot next to a injured Sidhion. "Press on the wound."
"It's no use," whispered Sidhion, taking a shallow breath, "It's no use. I'm not going to make it."
"Don't say that. You'll be fine," Lorena encouraged him, trying not to let the doubt creep into her voice. "We'll be fine. You promised me. You promised." He still had so many things left to teach her.
"Mellon nin, forgive me. Let me go with your blessing." His eyes closed. "My dear aunt, farewell."
"Don't call me that," Cuilwen said in barely a murmur, choking on the sadness in herself. "Eru, I leave him in your care. May his sleep be restful."
"Valinor awaits him." Lorena bowed to place a kiss to the elf's forehead. "He fought bravely, his place is amongst warriors." He had been young. But those young and deserving were the first to go.
The she-elf took a moment to wipe her tears away before nodding. Her nephew was now gone. "I understand your pain a little better now."
"I wish you didn't have to," Lorena confessed shortly after, "I wish no one had to feel any of that pain."
"Such is the way of our world," came the immediate reply. Had there been acceptance in her voice?
"What are we doing now?" Lorena inquired. They needed to find shelter and some time to regroup. They could not do so on the road, not with the massive loss they had just suffered. "Do you have a plan?"
"Don't I always?" Cuilwen sarcastically delivered. "We are close to a dwarven city. Durin's folk lives in these parts. They trade with elves often enough; they will not refuse to aid us, I am sure. We shall make haste to Erebor."
"Erebor?" the Halfling let the name roll off of her lips. She played with the word in her mind. "I have read that it is one of the richest dwellings of dwarves."
"It is the riches," the elf assured her, "you will see when we reach it. What dwarves lack in elegance they make up with jewels and fine metals. Come, you will be riding with me."
They buried their dead, a silent funeral among damp earth and young plants. Lorena stood next to the Lady for the whole duration of the procession. Her face implacable for she could feel the sorrow emanating from all those around her. She had been like this too and it seemed that she would not be allowed to move on.
A gust of wind carried the scent of blood away.
iii
Thorin regarded his father in silent worry. Thrain, however, was looking upon the King. Thror had his attention on the graceful creature curtsying and offering him her well-wishes. The elven Lady was travel weary but no less radiant. Her gold tresses shone in the dim light and twin pools of azure glowed, she was a feline assured in her power and not afraid to use it.
"Many thanks, King Under the Mountain. We are grateful for your kindness," Cuilwen said the customary words and bowed once more. The she-elf hid a bitter smile.
"There is no need to thank me fair mistress." Thror stroked his beard, contemplating what he had just found out. If orcs lurked so close by he would need to send out scouts. "Feel free to roam wherever you wish once you are revived. You will be shown to your rooms."
And that was when he saw her. At first he was tempted to think her a child of the travellers, however upon further inspection she seemed less and less like one. The woman, young and slim, was no elf no matter how close in looks they seemed with their similar frames and pointy ears. She was smaller than the average dwarf and perhaps half the weight of one. Cinnamon hair hung in a curtain down her back, framing a sweet face with deep hazel eyes and full lips.
Momentarily her gaze caught his. She seemed unaware, deep in thoughts and far away from what went on around her. One of the eleves slowly touched his hand to the crown of her head, snapping her out of the trance. The woman looked up and nodded. She eyed the Lady with concern as if waiting for something to happen. Perhaps she was thinking about the losses he mistress had suffered or maybe she was a kind soul felling for all.
Lorena had the impression that she was being watched. Instinctively she moved closer to the elf closest to her. The feeling persisted. She turned around and was hit by a pair of cloudy eyes examining her. Lorena's face flushed bright red at the scrutiny but she did not turn away. What did he find so fascinating, as to watch her so, she wondered. Albeit unsurely, she inclined her head in a silent greeting. It was only the right thing to do. He was an important person if the grandeur of his clothes spoke for anything, not to mention the air he exuded.
Left to her own devices, Lorena cleaned herself thoroughly before deciding that sleep would not come to her. A walk would suit her well, she thought. Without wasting a moment she pulled on a simple dress and dashed down the hall. Cuilwen's words still ringed in her ears. Upon entering the dwarven city under the mountain she had been blown away by its aspect. The Lady had not exaggerated when speaking of the riches in the mountain.
Now Lorena had the chance to explore. She trailed along the corridors, eyes opening to admire and file away memories. She would likely not have such an opportunity again. Tiny fingers touched the wall, felling every indent and bump, marvelling at the structure. Who would have though it possible for such things to exist? "Beautiful," she murmured, palm splaying out on the wall. "So beautiful."
"I see you appreciate our work," someone spoke, startling the girl. She turned around in a rush. "Easy now, it was not my intention to frighten you," the unknown man said.
This was the same one who had watched her in the throne room. It was the dwarf whose eyes were a brewing storm. She looked around, none was here beside them. "I suppose I do, it is like nothing I have ever seen." She did not smile, nor did her face betray anything but cold politeness.
"Perhaps you would like me to show you around," he suggested, his stare not breaking. He too hid behind a polished mask. The dwarf held his hand out.
"If I am not keeping you from doing anything of importance," Lorena trailed off hesitantly, "I would not wish to impose." Her arm looped through his. Eru, was he tall compared to her! She could barely reach his shoulder. For one of his kind he was exceptionally tall. "How rude of me. I am Lorena."
A smirk presented itself upon the stranger's face. So she really had not been paying attention. "My name is Thorin." He waited for her reaction and was not disappointed. Inexpressive eyes were lit by a spark of both interest and doubt. "I take it you had not paid much attention in the throne room."
Her face reddened slightly, "No, I must confess that I did not." Lorena gingerly released his arm from hers, pulling away. "Forgive my rudeness." She bowed low. "I must go now." With that she turned and ran away, over the length of the halls and to her rooms, leaving the prince behind.
Far from being upset or negatively affected Thorin considered her reaction to him. She was an interesting one and would be staying for some time. He would use the time wisely. Touching his arm, where Lorena's had been, the spot tinged pleasantly. This was just the tip of the iceberg, Thorin was sure. He would satisfy his curiosity in the days to come.
Footfalls sounded behind him. Thorin turned to find himself looking at his father. Thrain put a hand on his son's shoulder, deliberately adding pressure to his hold. "I have sent your brother to scout for orcs. Should he find any trail of them he will report back to you."
"Yes, father," Thorin agreed quickly, his mind not on the problem.
"You are not to be distracted. I want you to be careful, son. This is important," Thrain continued undeterred. "Your grandfather is also counting on you. Do not forget that."
"I have not forgotten it for one moment," the prince gave his word. "Nor do I plan to do so." But his mind was already taken by the image of Lorena running away, dress trailing after her in a flow of material.
From that moment on Thorin used every free minute to be in her presence. She was private person whose smile was never one of happiness. Her lips curled in amusement, but her eyes never shined with true joy. Full lips stretched in an armour of sorts, a defence mechanism. A beautiful sight that lacked genuineness, stunning in the anguish it brought to his heart.
Lady Cuilwen was a useful source of information. She told Thorin what she knew of the girl, an encouragement. "I want to see her find the place that had been meant for her." Knowing eyes analyzed his reaction. She was waiting.
"Leave her in my care," Thorin proposed. "Should she accept, a new life awaits her here."
Those words were enough for Lorena to be called upon to the Lady's chambers. Thorin waited for her with baited breath. Would she say yes? The tiny woman entered, her ever-present neutral expression firmly in place.
"Come, Lorena, sit by me," Cuilwen bid her, opening her arms in invitation. "I need your opinion on something."
Empty eyes fixed themselves upon Thorin. "How may I be of help?" She had not asked what business the prince had there. Long since her arrival he had chased her about, she was not at all surprised to see him here thus.
"Tell me, mellon nin, do you like it here?" the elven female asked.
iv
The dwarven maids fussed about Lorena, arranging her dress and placing ornaments in her dark hair. In the mirror, a face she did not know. Lorena stood in awe, staring at her reflection. She could not believe it was her. Intricate braids, rosy lips and cheeks and a white dress, gems and golden chains on silk. The customary white flowers. It was a dream, she reckoned.
Only, it wasn't. No, this was no fantasy. She was really being prepared for her own wedding. If her father and brother could see her now, what would they say? Hazel eyes glided over the double. All the way from the tiara to the ends of the dress that pooled at her feet.
Her women incessantly chattered, offering her compliments and well-wishes. The braver ones gave advice; they were often of the married variety. One or two they were. The others were maid, too young to marry but old enough to be of help. Lorena took everything in silently. She thanked them for their advice and help rather cordially; she put it down to nerves.
She stepped out the door on spindly legs. Her head was spinning, she was dizzy. A maid kindly supported her. "Thank you," Lorena managed to say. "Thank you." She took a deep breath and straightened her back. "I shall manage from here." And then she was on her own. Slowly but surely she traversed the stone road, her light boots still a novelty. One could hardly remain unaffected by the chill of the stone. Lorena walked on, ignoring the frenzy in her mind. She concentrated on maintaining her pace and taking steady steps.
All the blood had fled from her face by the time she reached the throne room. Behind her the dwarven maids walked slowly, plying to her rhythm. Every eye in the room turned to her when she appeared in the doorway. The massive entrance made her feel smaller than she already felt. A queasy feeling settled in her stomach. In her mind she begged the gods above to keep her from passing out or doing anything of the like. Not on her wedding day.
Wedding, she let the thought roll in her mind. She was practically marrying someone she barely knew. Thorin knew little of her too. How would this work out. Cuilwen had persuaded Lorena to accept, highlighting all the advantages of such a union. And she had accepted. There was no turning back now. Her fate had been sealed the moment that words of approval left her lips.
Thorin had given her such a sincere smile that for a moment she thought it might actually work. Then, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been splashed on her, she remembered that her destiny was not a generous one. It was not in the cards for her to be happy and enjoy something. The moment she got attached, everything would be taken from her. With that thought in mind, she steeled herself against her future husband and his charm. For he was without doubt a man she could have easily loved if things were different.
A vision of white was what Thorin saw. The woman he was about to marry moved smoothly, elegantly towards him, all his senses of high alert. He would be hers and she would belong to him in a very short while. For the life of him he could not place what went on with his being. His only wish was for the ceremony to end so he may uncover her veiled face and look in those eyes that haunted his dreams, asleep and awake, wherever he was. It gnawed at him, the need to see those deep pools and her soul in them. She was dangerous, with those breezy movements and tight-lipped smiles and the walls she erected around her.
He wanted to break her shell, Thorin thought as she stood beside him, both turning to Thror. The King officiated the ceremony with all pomp and gravity befitting the heir of his line. The dwarven prince wished he could see his bride's face, gauge her reaction. The vows passed his lips clear and strong as he pledged himself to her before all those gathered in his grandfather's halls.
Words that she had learned by heart flowed unchecked, her mind a thousand miles enough. Lorena was back home in her mother's warm embrace, fending off her brother's hair pulling and pattering along the wooden floors with a beer for her father. Her heart broke just a little. Barely, just barely, she could feel her lips moving and the voice, a stranger to her own ears, rang out in her head. Comforting arms dropped her and her brother vanished along with her father. Thorin stood in front, a pillar ready to support her, the man willing to catch her if only she would trust him. Bit by bit her covering was lifted, gradually exposing her face to the torchlight.
The soft light of the torch caressed her face as Thorin's eyes took the sight in. He watched the sparkle in her gaze and the red of her lips in a straight line. She was a statue in front of him; nothing seemed to move her for one endless moment. Neither did he for that long instant. Then, as if shaken awake, he leaned in. Almost imperceptibly her lips parted and he drew closer. Her warm breath on his lips and the sweet scent of flowers, he paired their mouths in a brief kiss. A brush of lips to satisfy the custom, a drop in the ocean to what he really needed from her. She had stiffened under his ministration but did not pull away.
It was over all too soon. She had just been getting used to it, the feeling, when he broke the kiss. A wave of regret flowed through her. It must have shown in her eyes for Thorin lifted the corners of his mouth.
Thror bade them kneel. A light tiara, of gold and precious stones, was placed atop her head while Thorin was given a heavier looking crown suited for the prince. Lorena let the foreign weight skin into her. She was the bearer of responsibilities now. She was to be of help to her husband, shoulder the hardships of life alongside him, give heir and he was to provide for her, see to her happiness and give her children to rise. "Rise, Prince of Erebor, rise, Lady-wife and go to your husband's side."
A collective cheer travelled the room. The dwarven noblemen and ladies loudly greeted the newlyweds. Some threw blessing their way and others made allusions to what was to come, more or less innocent and respectful. Out of all these Lorena caught best the one that made her flush bright red to the roots of her hair. A gruff voice had asked, without an ounce of shame, whether the bride would break in half or not upon the consummation of the marriage. "Are you sure she won't remain impaled, small thing she is?" Laughter bubbled on the lips of the guests at the crude question; none seemed the least bit offended.
"Wiser heads than mine would council caution," Thorin replied with a sly smile, one arm encircling Lorena's waist, "but I assure you that my wife is no glass sprite. Shut your mouth least she feels challenged."
"Aye, Master Dwarf," Lorena spoke up attracting the attention of all, "you see, I have no choice but to be strong. Otherwise dealing with you men would be next to impossible. Ask any woman and she will tell you so." The females tittered merrily in agreement.
"A witty one. A treasure you got yourself!" yelled someone from the crowed. "Have a care or some may take it into their heads to steal her away."
Before any could add to the already growing loudness, a figure stepped in front of Lorena. The woman, for she was a female, was not unknown to her. Dis, sister to Thorin and daughter of Tharin, smiled at her sibling's bride. "Be welcomed to the family, sister" she said, wrapping her arms around the sister she had just gained.
"I feel most welcomed," Lorena assured the princess, tentatively returning the hold. Her father-in-law stepped up, placing a symbolic kiss on top of her head, a sign of acceptance.
v
Well into their cups, and later during the celebration the guests were fit to be left on their own to make merry until the sun rose. Lorena had danced a few formal dances with her husband, hesitant and unsure but lightheaded enough to let her dead stay buried. In contrast Thorin had held her firmly, guiding her steps with practiced ease. For the first time in a long time, Lorena let herself go completely. If only for one night, she told herself, she wanted to be happy with her husband, she wanted to be like any other girl excited about her marriage. All thoughts of disaster she drove from her mind.
Drums pounded in the room still when Thorin's hand glided up her arm, all the way to her elbow. She looked at him with wide eyes and slowly nodded. Through hidden tunnels they slipped away; just the two of them in a dark place, all alone. The hand on her arm fell to her midsection and then to her lower back. Lorena shivered at the contact, bumping her side in Thorin's without intent. Excitement mixed with apprehension washed over her and she was suddenly grateful for his support, otherwise her feet would have given way to the onslaught of feelings.
He knew these roads like the back of his hand. Thorin deliberately walked slowly through the darkness, enjoying his opportunity to tease her. A lingering touch here, a slide of fingers there, and the ghost to a sweet kiss to her hair along with a momentarily tightening of his embrace.
Dim light shined in her eyes, enabling her to see his face. His eyes were burning, a silent cracking fire that seeped through her bones, emanating heat all through her. Lorena's chest ached in a odd way that was equal part pain and pleasure. Perhaps it was the anticipation. Or maybe the wine. But she wanted him to lean closer in and take her mouth like he had done in front of the crowd. The hobbit rose to her tiptoes, arms curling around his neck, trying to pull him in; to make him understand what she wanted from him at the moment.
The spark in her stare and the set of her mouth were the only things Thorin needed to get her message. Head leaning in, he tasted the wine on her lips. Instinctively she anchored herself to him as his hand splayed on the back of her heck, angling her head. Mimicking his movements, she quite enjoyed the growl her touch generated. Even more when her frame was crushed against his bulk. She felt safe, here in his arms. Safe and cherished; and she would not trade it for the world. Strong fingers dug into her sides, extracting a pleasured shiver from the maiden.
While their advancement was by no means hurried they reached the doors of his bedchamber, his bedchamber Lorena reminded herself, all too soon. Thorin let her go and she almost whimpered at the loss but caught herself. Her suffering was not long for he only opened the doors and hoisted her up in his arms. They passed the threshold and she was in unknown territory.
Thorin placed her back on her feet and turned to close the door. They thudded with a sense of finality. Lorena licked her dry lips, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. She was saved from having to make such decisions when Thorin turned around and approached her. Like the deer that knew it was prey to the wolf, she slowly retreated as he moved forward. The bed stopped her withdrawal.
Deftly, the man removed the pins holding her veil. White fabric flowed to the floor with no sound. Lorena's hair had also fallen down her back, over her shoulders, a mix of braids and free streaming tresses. Gentle eyes searched his face for something and small came to rest upon his chest, shyly loosening the clasp of his cloak.
"Are you afraid?" he asked, more of a murmur in the room that was holding its breath.
"You don't scare me," she answered. But she was, deathly fearful. What could she do to stop her heart from warming at the sight of him, at the sound of his voice? "I have nothing to fear." Words said only to convince herself.
A strange smile lit his face, "Whereas I," he trailed off, fingers gliding over her cheek and under her chin, lifting her head.
She could not make out what he meant and had no need to ponder it any further as his lips crashed hers, blunt and vigorously. It was nothing like the official kiss, a feather on her lips, nor was it like the teasing pecks shared in the hall, full of play. No, this kiss was the mark of his conquest and she the willing captive.
Little by little, piece by piece she came apart under his hands. Beaded silk and gemstones crashed to the floor, white to black and the light went out. She could swear the bed had swallowed her whole, feeling amplified by the perceived weight of Thorin on top of her. A shallow breath was all that she released as warm lips and rough beard buried in the crevice between her shoulder and neck. Slow movements stoked the fire in her and as she grew braver her fingers tangled in his hair.
They were a tangle of limbs drowning, sinking into desire. Hands eager to touch, fingers itching to discover, mouths hungry for a taste but most of all heart longing for affection. The night was theirs, these precious hours they could use as they will to learn each other inside out, all the nooks and crannies. And study they did, a listless, gratifying and ardent pursuit of knowledge in the skin of the other, on moaning lips and sleek skin. And it was never quite enough. Once more, and then again, until they were consumed; and finally lethargy settled in.
The world was rebuilding all around her as Lorena sucked air in ravenously. Her lungs hurt; her throat was going to smart come daylight. But another kind of throb pulsated through her, a kind of pleasant ache deep in her flesh. The head that rested on her shoulder moved to deliver a flurry of kisses from her collarbone to her breastbone, feathery tokens of satiation. Blunt nails lazily traced lines across his broad back.
Thorin moved away so they would settle comfortably. His lover bemoaned the loss of contact with a sigh of protest, fingers automatically curling to his shoulders to keep his still. He chuckled at her attempt, languidly pulling her along. She pushed into his side, her arm draping over him, tenderly playing with a thin braid. The steady beat of his heart lulled her to sleep.
The dwarven prince however could not find his rest. He was exhausted and sated down to his bones but his eyes refused to close, to leave her alone for one moment in the shrouding dark. His mind replayed every little detail, how she back arched and how her voice sounded when aroused, the flush that would creep over her skin and the bone melting sensation of her wrapped around him. But brightest of all was her smile, that carefree curving line of her mouth that had his heart doing cartwheels.
Absently he caressed her exposed form, hand sliding over white, chilled skin, gently winding undulations and easy dipping valleys; places his lips had touched, where his fingers had stroked. Thorin kissed his sleeping wife, a press of lips to her forehead, chastely. He closed his eyes and held her firmly to him.
Hours later, Lorena woke up to the feeling of something warm tightly pressed against her. Confusion simmered through the veils of sleep. Her hand came in contact with hard muscles, startling her. Hazel eyes opened in quiet inquiry and memories flooded her, images violently attacking her sleep-fogged mind. A strong blush tinged her skin at some particular recollections that she recalled with startling clarity.
Her husband slept heavily at her side, face relaxed in his rest. She could hardly believe he was the same man that she had given herself to a short while ago. Curiously, she traced a finger along his naked arm, putting her head back on his chest. She could only pray that it would last.
vi
Rusty leafs turned to darker dead hues on the ground. A rug of brightly coloured vegetation covered the once grassy hills. The grey skies spoke of a brewing storm, but the clouds dared not let their tears fall. Not on this day.
The cold gaze of her husband rested on her, his face void of emotion; Lorena stared back all the same, even though it scared her to see him like this. Word was that the King had fallen ill and none were to see him. Her husband and her father-in-law were the only ones who now entered Thror's chamber, and much of their time was spent there. But that was not Lorena's problem. Thorin was slowly detaching himself from her and the woman had no idea what to do. They stood in the hall, not one word spoken between them.
It had happened after the first Durin's Day that the King had succumbed to his sickness. A strange affliction it was; not even the doctors could tell what was wrong. Thorin started spending more and more time there. And the distance between them grew. No longer were the night filled with warmth and comfort. Instead she would go to sleep on her own and wake to find him gone, although his bed side had been slept in.
"I do not have the time to quarrel with you woman," he raised his voice, eyes flashing in anger. "We will talk when I return."
"Don't bother! You never have time for me anymore, anyway," she accused in a bitter voice. "Just go wherever it is that you want to go!"
"Mahal! Wife, I did not mean to rise your ire," he offered in apology at the hurt expression of her face. "Nor was it my intent to make you feel neglected."
"Then why are you never here?" He looked away, refusing to let their stares make contact. "What are you not telling me? I want to help you, but I can't if you won't just tell me. Tell me!"
A sardonic smile appeared on his features. "I have business to attend to wife. We shall talk of it some other time. The King is waiting."
Exasperation registered on her face. He had been doing this for months now, evading her questions, sometimes simply refusing to answer. A shadow had fallen between them and she was trying her best to remove the space between them. "Fine," she replied, nodding her head. She was so tired; there was no willingness in her left for this fight. "I wish you a good day, husband."
The swish of her skirts was the only sound as Lorena walked away. She could not seem to get past his coldness and it drove her stir crazy. What reason would he have to avoid her? He could not be that busy; he had not been before. Perhaps the King's illness was taking its toll on her husband. Lorena could understand that he was worried but that did not mean she would just stand by and watch the rift between them touch epic proportions.
Nausea hit her unexpectedly. Her hands clasped over her mouth as she tried to control it. After a few moments she took a deep breath, her hands sliding down. The pounding in her head grew louder. Lorena closed her eyes in frustration. She had to do something about that too. All this stress was weakening her to the point where her body had started reacting.
With slow and deliberate steps she walked to the Master Healer's place. The dwarven woman ushered her in, insisting that she should have called upon her. "What ails you, my Lady?" the kind woman asked her.
"I am unwell, I fear." Lorena sat on a stool. "I cannot describe these past few months as anything but hectic. This weariness is bringing me harm. I have started being unable to keep down food very well. Just now, I almost lost my meal."
"Has this been going on long?" the Master Healer inquired, pulling Lorena's hand to her and rising the sleeve up.
Thinking, Lorena bit into her lip. "Perhaps a moon cycle or so," she approximated. "Do you think-" the words died on her lips as soon as the though took form in her head.
"It is very probable. Your pulse is doubled by another one," she explained. She felt said pulse for a few more moments. "Yes. That is it. Your body is indeed taut. My advice is to let all that you hold into your heart go, my Lady. Otherwise the life within you might be affected."
The life within her? Tears welled in her eyes. Lorena nodded in compliance and stood up. "Thank you, Master Healer. I shall leave you to your business now."
"My Lady," the other woman offered, leading the Prince's wife to the entrance. "May the stars shine their protection upon you."
"I pray that keep you as well," Lorena responded, exiting and placed a hand upon her abdomen.
A life? Her mind tried to take the information apart. Inside of here there was a little seed, an inkling of love. This was proof; this was proof that the gods had meant this to be her fate. They had wanted her to meet the wonderful man she loved so very much. "I won't give up," she decided. For her child, for her own happiness and peace of mind, she would not let Thorin slip through her fingers.
vii
She was burning hot underneath him, like a blazing fire, devouring him. Thorin buried his face in her neck, kisses spilling over her sensitive skin. Lorena moaned softly, digging half-moons into his back. He bit down just as she dragged her nails down his back. The heat of her was burning him, in a sweet and slow, torturous pleasure. Thorin inhaled her scent, the perfume intoxicating, numbing him to everything but her. His lips soothed the bruise on her neck and she released a sigh of pleasure under his ministration. Lorena rolled her head back, hazel eyes closing as the feelings consumed her.
Thorin grunted quietly. How he had missed this! Holding his woman and loving her. She was his home and he had been gone for far too long. Reverent lips trailed a path from her shoulder to her chest. His wife arched underneath him, hungry for the contact. Mahal, her passion would drive him wild one day, Thorin thought, happily losing himself in her pliant body. Duty had stopped him for too long a time from enjoying her company. The dwarven prince shook the thought from his head. He was with her now. Ravenous fingers explored smooth expanses of flushed skin.
He could hardly believe she had waited for him. Thror was growing weaker and weaker, and his son and grandson had the duty to watch over him. How Thorin wished to trade places with his younger brother, so he may have more time for his wife. She had accused him of neglecting her. But it was not of his own will. If she could he would have much liked to share her bed every night and damn the consequences. However he was duty-bound. He had missed her just as much as she felt his absence. He would often return to find her sleeping, covers curled around her, on his side of the bed.
Words of love, words of worship passed his lips into her flesh, a mark on her soul. Lorena was beyond thinking. She took everything in, absorbing it like a paper did ink. Her lips whispered a broken chant, something that sounded like his name. But she barely had any voice left, her throat raw by that point. Thorin smirked into her chest. His hands glided over her unclothed form, a breath away from touching her but not quite relieving her discomfort. A sound of frustration ringed in his ears. "Thorin," she hissed, "please." And that was all it took because Thorin himself could no longer suffer it.
Lorena let his hands caress her. The woman was glad she had not gone to sleep this night. The moment Thorin entered the door, her eyes drank him in. Surprise had been etched on his face as he stepped in, silently watching the moon kiss her walnut tresses. There had been no words, mouths too busy to speak one word. Lips clashed furiously, starving from the long separation. Passion ran high, eager fingers pulling material apart. Bodies teemed with pent-up desire. In short minutes Thorin had her crying out in pure bliss. And it had been hours upon hours since then, Lorena realised somewhere in the back of mind.
Ardent lips took her mouth, swallowing her breath, sucking in the air from her lungs. Her whole frame broke apart from inside out. Thorin followed after her, spending himself inside her. Lorena trembled with the aftershock, her lips parting in wordless whispers. Sleek skin glinted in the light of the rising sun. The rays illuminated them from the east. Thorin kissed her again, this time the satisfied sort that she received after a night of passion. She received it, meeting his lips with her own.
"I love you, woman," he told her, turning on his side and embracing her. "You have no idea."
"I think it is you who does not know," Lorena said against his skin. "It is you who had no idea."
A chuckle escaped his throat. "Are you satisfied now, wife? Has your want been sated?"
Humming in the back of her throat, Lorena shook her head. "I don't think I will ever be."
"At least here we are of one mind." He stoked her hair languorously.
"Husband," she started, eyes searching for his. The woman bit into her lower lip, rising on one elbow. "I want to ask you something." He stared at her curiously. "How do you-no." She stopped talking.
"Whatever it is, just say it," Thorin advised her, his fingers still combing through her tangled hair.
Instead of answering him with words, Lorena took his hand and guided it down to her middle. She smiled unsurely, her eyes begging him to understand the words that had been stuck in her throat. Thorin looked at his large hand played on her. A thought entered his mind ever so slow and took root.
"You," he whispered in amazement, "are you with child?" His hand stroked her in tender movements. Lorena nodded her head, pleased about the joyful wonder on his face. His lips stretched in a smile, a warm one she had rarely seen him wear.
"I take it that you are happy?" she asked, although she already knew.
"The happiest I have ever been," Thorin assured her. His arms wrapped around her. "Stay with me today."
"Do you not have duties to attend to?" she questioned, knowing he had little leisure time on his hands.
"Not this day, wife." Thorin traced a line along her spine. "This day my only duty is to you. They will have to make do without me." Lorena giggled as his beard tickled her. "I cannot promise to always be there."
"I understand," she replied. And she did. He was busy.
"But I shan't neglect you like I have," he continued, "you have my word."
"And I will not let myself be neglected, worry not," she offered, her head resting on his shoulder.
Harsh golden light painted the world outside the windows. Lorena closed her eyes and though of the future. It did not scare her so anymore. It hadn't for a long time now. Her ghosts had hidden themselves somewhere, in a place she could not reach. Nor did she want to. Hers was the future now. She had a family and everything she would ever need right here, in the arms of her husband.
A/N: Just as I have promised, here is the first one-shot. I hope you liked it and much as I've enjoyed writing it. Do tell me what you think.:)