There was nothing, really, for Ori to do. He'd finished his writing for today, he'd had his dinner and he really wanted to do some knitting, but didn't know who to do it for. Everyone was well-stocked with various garments to wear to fight against the coldness that was coming. Dori had taken it upon himself to ensure their burglar was kept warm, and now Ori gazed around to see if there was anyone he could make something for.
His eyes locked onto their leader. He preferred wearing leather, furs and armour to soft wool, but he kept pushing the thick fur of his coat's collar towards his throat impatiently and giving a silent little shiver at the breeze.
Thorin Oakenshield was cold.
And then, Ori knew exactly what to do.
It was no hardship to make a scarf. In truth, Ori didn't know why he hadn't made Thorin one before. Probably because the king hid his troubles so well.
He only had grey and a small amount of steel-blue wool to work with and he settled down night after night, even knitting when everyone was supposed to be sleeping until Nori or Dori stopped him, determined to make the perfect scarf. His needles clacked together in the burning orange flames of the campfire and in the silvery light of the moon and stars above, their light bouncing off the soft, dark colours. It wasn't a very intricate design, but he knew the weather was getting colder and didn't want to waste time.
He did, however, add a fringe to its ends, his acknowledgement of the king's liking for running his fingers through soft things coming to his aid.
The night it was finished, Ori shyly shuffled over to where Thorin was resting, a little way from the Company. He seemed lost in thought and Ori was loathe to interrupt him and stood, holding his creation in apprehensive silence before placing it over Thorin's shoulders, hoping he would like it.
Thorin jumped at the sudden contact and turned, his face turning from mildly alarmed to almost pleased as he realised it was his scribe. "Ori. Are you well?"
Ori nodded and pointed at Thorin's shoulders. "I made you a scarf."
Thorin's fingers traveled up to meet the softness of his gift. He looked completely thrown and Ori nearly laughed to see it.
"You looked cold the other night and autumn's approaching."
Thorin nodded this time. "Well. Thank you for this."
"You look surprised." Ori accused. "Who did you think I was knitting for?"
"I didn't think you'd notice."
Ori gave a small grin. "Scribes are supposed to notice things, Mr. Oakenshield."
Thorin's eyes held a glint of amusement. "That they are." He stood and placing a hand on Ori's shoulder, drew the younger Dwarrow to his body, embracing him lightly. "Do you know," he said, "how appreciated you are?"
"Mmph. You sound like Dori."
Thorin did laugh at that, a brief sound of amusement that made Ori smile. "I suppose you know already, then." Thorin released Ori and wrapped the scarf more securely around his neck.
"Does it help any?"
"It helps very much indeed," Thorin answered. "I am grateful for it, Ori." He glanced upwards, toward the camp and shook his head. "Come, we'd best get back before those two drive our Wizard madder than he already is."
Holding back giggles, Ori let Thorin go before him and followed his king back to their campfire, quite proud at how Thorin had liked his scarf.
He would later notice that, except for nights, Thorin never took it off again.
When the Eagle was carrying Thorin in AUJ, I noticed our favourite Dwarf king had a scarf on and then this happened! Hope it was enjoyed!
