Chapter 2

Thorin woke slowly, becoming conscious of his surroundings piece by piece. A soft bed. A faint ray of sunlight through a glass-paned window. Unfamiliar smells and background noises. A warm body in his arms. He shook his head when the events of the past day filtered back to him through the daze of waking up. Gandalf's parting words, all the strangeness that had followed it. The good kind of strangeness, though, full of warmth and merriment and laughter. And her.

He looked down at Sigrun's sleeping face with a hint of apprehension. Would she regret what had happened last night when she woke up? She looked sweet and peaceful, relaxed and happy. Just then she wiggled in her sleep and ground her hips against him. He gasped. At least one part of me that's fully awake... She moved again and he couldn't resist.

Curling his body around her, he cupped one firm, perky breast in his hand and gently brushed his calloused thumb over a nipple. Her smile widened, a cute dimple appearing on her cheek, and she moved unconsciously into his touch. Encouraged by her body's reaction, he repeated the caress, then again, with more insistence. A shiver went through her body. Her nipples were hard as pebbles under his touch and he pressed himself against the small of her back, eager for more friction.

His hand trailed slowly down her stomach, worshipping every inch of skin on the way. He hid a smile at the small, impatient noises she made, still only half awake. Then his fingers reached the juncture of her thighs and she opened up to him willingly. So hot, so sweet. There was none of the urgency that had possessed them both last night and he took his time caressing her, learning what pleased her most, soft and careful, until she seemed to melt into his touch, eager for more.

Gently, he lifted her upper leg a little and slid deep inside her from the back, all the way home in a single, controlled stroke. They both sighed with pleasure and her eyes finally opened.

"Thorin." Somehow she managed to twist her head enough for a long, lingering kiss. "Good morning."

His hand rested firmly on her stomach, holding her close to him, and they stayed like this for a long time, only occasionally rocking against each other. The feeling of closeness, of shared warmth, was almost overwhelming. Thorin closed his eyes, focussing on nothing but the feel of her skin under his hand, the scent of her hair, the taste of her on his lips. It was a perfect moment, and he briefly wondered whether this was paradise after all, whether he had died and gone to a happier place.

When he finally started moving, slow, shallow thrusts at first, it was almost with regret. He wanted to make this last, spin it out a little longer, but she was hot and tight and before he knew it he was picking up speed, thrusting harder, deeper, and all too soon it was over. He didn't neglect her pleasure, a few gentle touches of his hand enough to make her follow him over the edge, and afterwards he held her again, unable to get enough of her skin on his.

She looked up at him with a curious expression as he traced the tattoos on her face with his fingers, following their dark patterns all over her chin and cheeks and forehead. "Are you really a king, Thorin?"

He sighed. "I guess I am, in a manner of speaking. Though the last true King Under the Mountain was my grandfather, King Thrór. He was a mighty warrior and a great king. Under his rule, our people prospered and grew rich beyond imagination. You can't possibly imagine the splendour of his halls, the glory of his court."

Sigrun bit her lip. "No. I guess I can't."

Just then her stomach growled and she turned away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "Well, I guess that settles it then. A pity, really."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

She got up and reached for her clothes, her tone light. "Well, isn't it obvious? What would a noble like you, a son of kings, want with a girl like me?"

"A girl like you?" He was genuinely confused and felt anger rising inside him. Anger and disappointment.

Sigrun tied her pants and looked at him searchingly. "You really don't understand, do you?"

Slipping on her blouse, she walked over to him, kissing him on the cheek with a crooked smile. "I'm a duster, Thorin. That's what those tattoos mean. A girl from the slums, a common criminal, the lowest of the low. There's only one thing a noble could ever want from a duster girl and you've had it."

He opened his mouth to speak, shocked by her words, but she had already turned to leave. "See you at breakfast. Maker, I'm starving!"

Thorin enjoyed an ample breakfast down in the Keep's large dining room in the company of Nathaniel and Anders and a sullen young Warden named Carver who had been on guard duty the night before. Sigrun was sitting at another table, deep in discussion with the tall elven woman and flashed him a quick, perfunctory smile. The food was homey and plentiful, eggs and bacon and honey cakes and porridge, and he enjoyed the meal thoroughly. When they had all polished off their plates, Nathaniel jumped to his feet with easy grace and motioned for Thorin to follow him.

"Come on. The Commander wants to talk to you some more, but she's busy until the afternoon. She asked me to find weapons and armour for you. If you want, you can join us in the courtyard for weapon practice."

He nodded. "I'd like that."

Nathaniel took him to armoury, a well-stocked room supervised by the weapon smith, one Master Wade, and his assistant. Thorin chatted briefly to the smith, pleased to find him a master of his craft, always on the lookout for new challenges.

"What's this?" He examined the chest plate Wade was working on. "I've never seen that kind of material before."

"Drakeskin armour." Wade smiled proudly. "Not many men can work it. It takes skill and patience. And dragon scales, of course. This is a particularly fine piece, meant for the Warden Commander herself."

"Dragon scales!" Thorin threw Nathaniel a sharp glance. "Where would you find those?"

"On a dead dragon, of course." Nathaniel grinned. "The Commander killed several, during the Blight. She seems to have a knack for it."

Thorin shook his head. "Killing a dragon... That is no small feat."

Nathaniel grew serious. "No, it isn't. But Megan is not your average fighter. I will tell you more about her during lunch. Let's look for a suitable armour for you."

With Wade's help, they soon found what they needed. An armoured chestplate, with massive shoulder guards and matching boots and gloves, made from a white-blue metal that was oddly light and smooth to the touch.

Thorin ran his fingers over the scales with a frown. "Mithril?" he ventured.

Wade gave him an odd sideways glance. "Silverite. I have a few suits made from stronger stuff, but they wouldn't fit you. You're tall for a dwarf. Now, let's see about weapons." He looked Thorin over appraisingly. "An axe-fighter, am I right?"

"I can handle a sword as well, but yes." Thorin nodded. He was only mildly surprised. A few of the smiths back in the Blue Mountains had possessed the same talent, guessing a warrior's favourite weapon just by looking at his stance and demeanour. Wade walked along a row of weapon stands and picked several axes, tutting and muttering until he'd found what he was looking for.

"Here." He handed Thorin a one-handed war axe, made from the same material as the armour. "Treat it well. This is a masterpiece, forged by the great Khern himself. It will cut through darkspawn armour like a knife through butter."

Thorin nodded his thanks, running his fingertip carefully along the perfectly sharpened edge of the axe head. "Your forces are well-equipped. I would like to learn more about what it means to be a Grey Warden."

"And so you shall." Nathaniel picked a matching round shield for him and turned to lead him out into the courtyard. "Anything I'm at liberty to tell you."

Thorin followed him, mulling over his words. A secret order of some kind, then? Was this what Gandalf had meant when he'd told him he could still be a force for good? He was intrigued.

Megan took a moment away from the hated paperwork to step onto the gallery and watch her Wardens spar in the courtyard. Nathaniel was busy practicing at the archery range and she ran her gaze appreciatively over his tall body, enjoying the play of muscles in his bare arms as he pulled the string, the intense focus of his stance, the sudden release of tension as he let go of the arrow. Nice.

Sigrun was attacking a practice dummy with her axe and dirk, with a barely contained fury that was unlike her usual playful grace. Megan raised an eyebrow. Something must have upset the cheerful little rogue to put such a frown on her face.

Carver was still desperate to prove himself, swinging his huge greatsword with more power than grace as he attacked Justice, leaving himself open on all sides to counter attacks. Anders had to step in several times and heal small cuts and bruises. Well, at least this would help Carver work off some of his resentment toward the world in general...

It took her a moment to recognize Thorin, now armoured and equipped with an axe and a shield. They had paired him with Oghren. Quite the challenge for an unproven fighter. For all his drinking and boasting, the red-haired dwarf was a formidable opponent and his huge battleaxe had saved them all many times down in the Deep Roads. But Thorin was holding his own quite nicely, parrying well and moving quickly and gracefully in and out of range.

Megan sighed and returned to her desk. What was she supposed to do with this stranger? A wizard had sent him, he'd said. Megan snorted. Not much of an explanation, really. True, some of her Wardens had pretty exotic pasts as well. If she could deal with a Fade spirit inhabiting the corpse of a dead Warden, a dwarven warrior from Maker-knew-where wasn't all that much of a stretch. Should Thorin decide to join them, none of it would matter any more. But would he want to? Did he even have another place to go? She was curious what he would have to say for himself later.

It was Anders who took Thorin up to the Warden Commander's study after lunch. It had been an interesting day so far. The Wardens had turned out to be as well trained as they were equipped, definitely a force to be reckoned with, despite their small number. But what amazed him most was their casual use of magic. More than once Anders had stepped in to heal small wounds, and once the mage had even cast a small fireball at a practice dummy, causing it to go up in blue flames, much to the others' amusement. Thorin tried to imagine Gandalf pulling off a trick like this and failed spectacularly. But then, Anders seemed to be a different type of wizard altogether, young and full of mischief and laughter.

And then there had been Justice. When he'd been introduced to the heavily armoured warrior, Thorin's first impulse had been to either run or attack him. This was no man but an abomination, a walking corpse. Still, the others had assured him that the decaying body was possessed by a benevolent, peaceful spirit rather than a necromancer's thrall.

Sigrun had avoided his company all through the day, even at lunch, and Thorin was more affected by her indifference than he liked to admit. The last night had been more than just a casual fling for him. He genuinely liked the pretty little rogue and it irked him that she would lump him together with the noble dwarves she'd known in the past. He would have to learn more about the dwarves in this world in order to understand why she was so upset by his aristocratic roots.

During lunch, Nathaniel had tried to give him a quick rundown of who the Wardens were and what they were doing in this place. His head was still spinning with all the new information. The darkspawn Nathaniel kept referring to sounded a lot like orcs or goblins, and the Archdemon seemed to have been essentially a large dragon. If the Wardens were an order dedicated to fighting the forces of darkness, it seemed he had indeed come to the right place.

He found it hard to believe the stories Nathaniel had told him about Megan Cousland, though. This mere slip of a girl was supposed to have slain several dragons, united the elves and dwarves and humans of her world against a common foe and defeated all odds to overcome evil more than once. All of this seemed completely incongruous with the laughing young face that now looked up at him from a pile of papers.

"Thorin. I hear you've been giving my Wardens a hard time on the practice court?" There were laugh-lines around the Commander's eyes as she spoke and her pose could only be described as flirtatious.

"I did my best, but your Wardens are able fighters." He remained cautious, unsure of what else to say.

"So they are." Megan leant against the desk, crossing her arms on her chest. "Tell me more about where you come from, Thorin, and what you are doing here."

He took a deep breath. "I don't know much more than you do, Commander. Gandalf the Grey, the wizard who sent me here, told me he was sending me to another world where I could be healed and where I could still do some good. My home is far from here, and it's a very different place. But if you're dedicated to fighting evil, I'll gladly join you."

She chewed her lower lip. "Fighting evil. Ah." Looking up, she caught his gaze. "But it's not always easy to tell what's evil and what's good, is it?"

He raised his chin. "Sometimes not. But I've talked to your men, and from what they told me the foes you're fighting are monsters, corrupted beyond redemption, bloodthirsty and cruel. I'm willing to help you in your struggle."

Megan smiled. "So you'd become a Warden? But there's more to it than fighting darkspawn, you know. You'd have to give up everything else. And there are... other drawbacks, which I can't even tell you about."

Thorin shrugged. "I don't care. I don't have anything else to live for, not in this world. And the things I strove for in my own world seem petty now. Revenge, glory, treasure... none of them matter any more. Being near death changes a man."

She nodded. "I can understand that. Still, it's a far-reaching decision. I wouldn't want you to undergo the Joining before you know us better. But you can come along on our next patrol to the Deep Roads. We'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Nathaniel will take care of you until then, show you around and explain things to you. There must be lots of stuff you find confusing."

Thorin inclined his head gratefully. "Thank you, Commander."

She dismissed him with a quick nod and he left. It felt strange, taking orders from a human woman, and if he was honest it tickled his pride. Yet, in a way, it was a relief not to be in charge any more. No longer King Under the Mountain, no longer a leader of armies. Just Thorin. Gandalf might have given him an even greater gift than he had thought at first.

Sigrun had found a comfortable place on a bench in the Great Hall, near one of the huge fireplaces, and settled down with a Nevarran romance she had found on one of the bookshelves. Though, come to think of it, her choice of reading material probably wasn't ideal for taking her mind off Thorin and the night she'd spent with him. The book turned out to be quite racy and more than once she was reminded of the way his hands had felt on her body, the heated rush of pleasure when he'd kissed her, touched her, made love to her...

She shook herself. Not made love. They'd rutted, just for the pleasure of it. It hadn't been different from what any of the noble hunters did at home - spreading their legs for a high-born lover, feeling honoured he'd even notice them. Or had it? The expression on his face when she'd told him... He'd seemed genuinely shocked by her words. Maybe where he came from, they didn't have casteless dwarves. Maybe the nobles there were actually noble, honourable and respectful, not just out for their own advantage. Yeah, right! Sigrun sighed. Because he comes from a place where brontos fly and princes fall in love with poor duster girls.

Putting the book back onto its shelf, she jumped to her feet. Almost dinner time. Maybe she should stick to her room tonight, avoid the Hall, the drinking and the singing. Avoid listening to his voice and dealing with the confusion it awakened in her chest. Yes. No use pining for him. Romantic fantasies were for noble girls or for dreamers, like Anders. Not for her.

Hugs and thanks to heretherebdragons for beta reading this. And thank you all for your lovely reviews.