"Weren't you asked to do twenty of each?"
"Yes."
"And how many are there?"
"About thirty-five."
"And how many of the new recipes did you add in there as well?"
Ora's eyes shifted nervously to the door where her grandmother was watching the stall no that much further beyond. "All of them."
"Even the orange bread?" Ava reached for a cherry tart, but Ora quickly slapped her hand away.
"Even the orange bread. It tastes all right, you know?"
"No, I don't know unless you let me try it." Ava nursed her wounded hand.
It was then that Giora and Marg arrived, and Giora's sudden booming voice made the on edge Ora jump and scowl.
"Someone's highly strung today." Giora jested, catching his little sisters fussing and mumbling.
"This isn't a joke, Giora." Ora snapped in response, and not her usual, banter tone that she usually took with her brother. No, this time she actually snapped at him. It was the day of the king's dinner, and they had been instructed to bring the desserts up late in the afternoon and leave them in an adjoining room to the king's personal dining hall, then, when summoned, they were to bring them in and leave them on a side table in waves, and stocking up when necessary. This way they stayed fresh.
Ora knew it made sense, but it also meant she would have to be present nearly at all times, which she wasn't so happy about. She didn't want to be in the king's company any more than she needed too. She had decided she was embarrassed in his presence, because of her past encounters with him she hated to think what he thought of her, she felt humiliated. And surprisingly vulnerable for some reason, why though, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Nevertheless, she didn't like the feeling.
Ora knotted her hands into her apron, "Okay, Giora; can you take that large basket and that medium one for me, please? No, not that one, the other one – yes that one. Marg, could you take that basket there, and Ava, could you take those smaller two, please." Ora directed her little helpers as necessary.
Once everyone was balancing at least one basket (Ora had a medium sized on her shoulder and a smaller one under her arm), they set off from the little bakery in the heart of the market, and up towards the higher floors – the royal wings.
"I've never been here before." Muttered Ava as they passed some particularly haughty looking Dwarrowdams.
"I don't think any of us have." Replied Ora, trying to ignore the looks she was receiving.
"I have." Chimed Marg.
"Well, I think everyone looks like they have a lemon in their mouth and a carrot up their bottom." Ora said, before snickering along with Giora and Ava, although, Marg wasn't as impressed.
"I don't want to touch anything, I think I'll make it dirty." Ava commented. They'd just ascended another flight of steps, and it was apparent they were no longer in the middle classed portion of Erebor. The usual stone walls that lined the lower floors looked so dull compared to these that were decorated in the same fashion as the king's hall; with the lacings, and veins of gold, silver, and gems bleeding through the cracks and crevices of the stone.
"Probably because you will, Ava." Chuckled Giora. Ava kicked him in the back of the knee, and he stumbled slightly, igniting a flame of fear within Ora as she watched the basket he was balancing wobble when he did. Luckily, however, he managed to stable himself and the basket.
"Do you mind?" Ora hissed at them, "I swear to Mahal if you drop even a crumb I will personally club you."
Giora snickered again, "That's a little harsh." But by the look on Ora's tight face she totally meant it.
She was beyond nervous. She was nervous that they wouldn't like her baking; she was nervous that her dress wasn't nice enough; or that she wasn't presented well enough, and she was actually nervous to see king Thorin again. She didn't want to mess up, and embarrass herself further in front of him. No way.
She was dressed in her smartest work dress; it was a pleasant, leafy green colour, with dark green lace hems and cuffs. She had a brand new, pristine white apron on too. She actually debated for a moment whether or not she should wear her yellow dress, she was desperate to wear it, but at the same time she knew it would be totally silly if she did. That wasn't a work dress, it's a fancy gown – definitely not appropriate to handle sticking desserts in.
Her blonde hair was down in soft ringlets, and clipped away from her face by an intricate plat (curtesy of Marg) that dropped down the centre of her back.
Marg was in front, and Ora watched as the briskly paced Darrowdam slowed her steps slightly until she was walking beside her.
"Are you nervous?" She asked.
Ora hesitated, she was brought up in The Wild, having to fight for survival and having many near death experiences. But she was more nervous now than before any battle she'd ever experienced. But why? Why did she want the king's approval so desperately? Because he's the king, you fool. There was no other opinion in the whole of Erebor that mattered more.
"Yes." She replied.
Marg smiled reassuringly at her as they climbed yet another flight of steps. "It will be absolutely fine. I promise. If these desserts taste even half as good as they smell then I'm sure you're in for a winner."
Ora let out a deep sigh, her stomach filled to the brim with shuddering butterflies and her heart pounded hard.
"Thank you." She just mustered, because Marg led them to a stop in front of an inappropriately large set of oak and iron doors.
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It was more nerve wracking than she'd originally anticipated. Seated on the table before her were not only members of the royal family (Dain and a few of his kin, along with Dis – the king's sister) but the entire company who had helped reclaim Erebor sat there, each of them munching away on her baked goods.
Ora hovered patiently by the door, eyes shifting from the table where they all sat, to the side table where the desserts were. So far, so good. They seemed to like everything, that's always a good sign.
Ora eyed up the diminishing loaf of orange bread, and she made a mental note to tell Ava it was apparently Lord Balin's favourite.
She silently left the room to retrieve another loaf, along with another half a dozen meringues.
She returned, balancing a fancy silver plate in each hand she headed towards the side table to restock. As she was sliding the rest of the mostly eaten orange bread onto the plate with the new one on she heard someone clear their throat behind her.
She jumped slightly and turned.
"Oh! Your majesty." She curtsied awkwardly. Another mental note: practice greeting royalty!
That was a strange thought, never in her life would she have ever imagined to have to practice greeting anyone of high ranking.
"I thought we agreed to simply call me Thorin." Replied the king lowly, his voice rumbling.
"O-Oh yes, sorry, my- I mean, Thorin." She grinned awkwardly at him, but avoided eye contact. "Sorry! Am I in your way?" She went to move away, but when Thorin reached out and touched her arm she jumped and spun round so fast her head swum.
For a moment Thorin just blinked at her, and Ora once again started spluttering her nonsense apologise. This time, something about being nervous.
"Why are you nervous?" He suddenly asked her, instantly halting her rambling.
Ora hesitated, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. She hadn't mean to say that! In fact, she hadn't meant to say anything to the king at all! Other than the obviously polite small talk, maybe. But now…
"How could I not be? You're the-the king, a-and I'm just a baker. I mean to offensive, of course."
Thorin frowned at her, and instantly Ora gulped, assuming she'd upset or angered him.
"Does that make you any less than I?" He finally asked her.
"Yes." She replied more or less instantly. Of course, there was no hesitation required. The king was undoubtedly the most important Dwarf in the mountain, followed closely by his heirs.
Thorin's eyebrows rose a tad, and he folded his thick arms across his chest. Ora wanted to take a step back, but that would be rude, so instead she found herself leaning away slightly.
"I have heard stories of you fighting Orcs and Goblins, yet you are nervous about baking a few cakes?"
Ora's defences began to prickle. One, she didn't like the mention of her early life in the Wild. Of course, like many she had to fight for her life, even against bandits and creatures so fierce her dreams are still haunted by them. How could he possibly know that sort of information? Had someone told him?
Secondly, it wasn't just baking a few cakes.
"Have you ever baked nearly four hundred desserts in a week, your majesty?" Her arms crossed over her chest, nearly mirroring his stance.
"How many times must I tell you? Call me Thorin."
Ora's temper was still ticking, and for some reason the knowledge that the king knew about her life in The Wild upset her, and wasn't settling right in her conscience. That wasn't anyone's business, she was no longer that Dwarf.
"One more, your majesty." Any thought about them actually having a foundation of chivalry beyond baker and king was long gone. He was her king, and right now, she was giving him a rather hard stare.
Is he smiling?
Ora blinked at him, her annoyance washing away and her arms slipped back to her side.
"It's interesting," He began, obviously seeing her confusion, "one moment you're like a little nervous hummingbird; delicate and perturbed, and then the next…" Thorin looked her up and down in such away her stomach knotted uneasily, "your warrior comes out." His eyes locked with hers for only a moment before she looked away. "I like your temperament, lass. You stand up for what you believe is right… your heart's in the right place."
Ora just blinked at him, unable to string a sentence together in her head, let alone attempt to verbalise a sound. She just gaped rudely at him as in nodded to her and turned back towards the table.
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"He likes your temperament?!"
"What does that even mean?"
"Oh, Ora!"
Ora was lying flat on her bed as her three friends fussed around her. She'd just got back from working at the kings dinner, and of course, she'd immediately gathered the troops and filled them in on the details.
"Did he say anything more to you after that?" Ava's face hovered over her, her eyes sparkling.
Ora shook her head, completely drained. "No," She replied slowly, thinking, "I… I think he said my name just as I was getting ready to leave…"
"What did you do?"
Ora bit her bottom lip, "I pretended I didn't hear him."
Ava erupted into hysterical laughing while Uli and Marg gasped.
"Ora!" Marg scowled, "How could you?!"
"Quite easily, actually. He'd just annoyed me, so I simply pretended he wasn't there."
"But he's the king! Oh, Ora!"
"But I didn't hear him." She struggled, "That's not my fault. He should learn to speak up."
"Ora, I think everyone would hear him even if he whispered. His voice radiates."
Ora shrugged again.
"Your stubbornness aside, Ora. Did they like the food?" Uli asked. Uli was the most accepting and least judgemental of the group. She knew full well – along with Ava (although, Ava didn't always have the passiveness that Uli did regarding Ora's temperament) – what Ora could be like, and just accepted her friend the way she was. Ora was undoubtedly the most laid back out of the four of them, one could sit there and throw insults at her for hours and Ora would probably just laugh or shrug it off. But, there are three buttons with Ora you daren't press; anything regarding Jora; her friends; or her life in The Wild. Messing with any three of those topics is a recipe for an angry Ora. She gets defensive about the things closest to her heart, whether they are there for positive or negative reasons.
Ora didn't speak of The Wild, only those who were there knew what really went on in those dark days.
"As far as I know. They ate it all… Oh, Ava, that orange bread went the fastest. Apparently, Balin has a new favourite pudding!"
Ava scowled, and muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like 'orange bread is barely pudding'.
"I bumped into Colborn today." Chimed Uli, shifting herself to lay on her stomach and rest on a pillow.
Ora's head snapped up in interest, "Oh?"
Marg frowned, "No, Ora."
"What?"
"He's not the sender of that gown, therefore he is not of interest. Let's not get distracted now."
"He is dreamy though, isn't he?" Cooed Uli, stealing Ora's attention back.
"Ooh, just a tad." Ora jested, and the pair giggled.
Marg's frowned deepened, and Ava picked her nose.
"Pick me out a winner, would you, Ava?"
"Stop searching for gold on my bed, you little Goblin!"
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It had been just over a week since the king's dinner, and Ora had pushed the memory of that stressful night towards the far back of her brain.
She hadn't seen the king, either, thankfully. Word had it that he'd had to leave for a few days, something about Orc's being spotted near their borders.
But Ora wasn't worried, he'd faced a dragon, Orcs must be a piece of cake in comparison. So, she was enjoying the luxury of moving through Erebor and not having to worry about embarrassing herself or bumping into him.
However, by the tenth day that luxury was over, and she found out in the worst way possible.
Dinner time was the usual busy noise and hustle and bustle of ever hungry Dwarves, and Ora was just making her way to the centre table with Ava, when someone called her name.
She turned, and looked for the vaguely familiar voice. Having no idea who the voice belonged to she didn't exactly know who to look for. However, eventually she caught sight of someone standing by the main archway, smiling at her. It was Balin.
She blinked at him for a long moment, unsure if it was actually he who was speaking to her, but when he beckoned her closer her stomach dropped.
She turned to Ava. "What do you think this could be about?"
Ava shrugged causally, "Maybe he wants you to bake more orange bread?"
That seemed plausible, so Ora relaxed and smiled back at him, making her way towards him.
"Good evening, Lord Balin." She greeted politely, offering a clumsy curtsy.
"Good evening, lass. Would you mind coming with me?"
Ora's shoulders tenses, and she spared a glance towards Ava who was still waiting patiently for her. "Could I ask what for?"
Balin continued to smile at her, "Nothing to worry about, lass." He then stepped back and offered her his arm, "Please?"
Ora glanced at Ava once again, who was watching her with a confused expression. However, she noted Uli approaching her, so the guilt of abandoning her friend subsided somewhat and she hesitantly looped her arm through Balin's.
"Where are we going?" She asked as the old Dwarf led her up a flight of steps and towards the scary higher floors.
Balin chuckled, but didn't reply.
Up another flight of steps they went, and with every corner and step Ora's nerves ate away at her. But, she knew better than to snap at a Lord, so she just followed his lead.
He led her towards the royal wing and towards the kings dining hall, and that's when she put the brakes on and dug her heels into the stone floor.
"W-What am I doing here?"
Balin chuckled again, "It's a dining hall, lass. What does one usually do in a dining hall?" He pulled on her arm once more, and led her towards the familiar oak door. They stopped outside, and Balin raised his fist to knock three times. He then turned to her, smiled, winked and then left. Leaving Ora staring at the spot he once stood and totally away with the fairies.
So away in fact, she totally missed the door in front of her opening, and the figure standing there.
That was, until, the figure cleared his deep, rumbling throat and snapped Ora back to Erebor so violently she jumped back.
"Your majesty!" Ora curtsied so quickly she nearly fell over.
"You need to practice that." Thorin rumbled, and to her complete surprise he stepped aside, leaving the doorway clear, like one might do if inviting you in.
But Ora knew better, the king definitely wasn't inviting her in, surely?
She just stood there sucking air and blinking. She looked around her, excepting someone else to turn up at any moment and walk in the open door.
"Hurry up, you're letting in a draft."
Ora spluttered, and hurried into the dining room despite her brain protests.
"I'm sorry, your ma-"
"Thorin."
"Pardon?"
"Call me Thorin." Thorin brushed past Ora and headed towards a crystal decanter.
Ora chocked on her own breath for a few moments as she watched him pour wine into two incredibly beautiful glasses.
"Erm, yes. I'm sorry, but I don't understand why I'm here… Thorin." She didn't like saying his name, it made her cringe and wince.
"Are you hungry?"
"Erm, yes."
"Then we're having dinner."
Thorin gestured towards the dining table, and to Ora's absolute horror it was laid out for two.
She was too busy staring to notice Thorin was back in her personal bubble, that is, until he thrust a gorgeous, gem incrusted glass towards her.
Ora stared at it like it was a dead puppy.
"It's just wine, lass."
"I don't want to break the glass, though." Ora looked up from the glass, and accidently got caught in Thorin's eyes. Those eyes so blue she suddenly got an overwhelming feeling that she just wanted to jump in and swim in those deep pools. His thick, raven black hair with the usual streaks of silver cascaded magnificently down past his shoulders, and she had to physically resist the temptation to reach up and touch it.
Those eyes bore penetratingly back at her, "Take it."
And she did, albeit hesitantly. Thorin then walked away towards a set of arm chairs facing the roaring fire.
"I can't help but feel like that doesn't really answer my question, though." Ora slowly followed him, feeling out of place in such a pristine, exquisite room.
Thorin took a seat, and gestured for her to do the same. She did, awkwardly.
"I wanted to thank you, and apologise."
Ora frowned, "you're the king, you have no reason to thank me, and certainly no need to apologise for anything – ever."
"You truly believe that?"
No. "Yes." However, her hesitation said it all. She cast her eyes down to the glass she held tightly in her lap, too scared to break it. But she could feel the king's eyes on her.
"I wanted to thank you for your services the other night. You are a very talented baker. I was going to do it on the night, but you pretended not to hear me." Ora's stomach squirmed and heat rose in her cheeks. "And I wanted to apologise for making you feel uncomfortable."
Ora turned to him then, catching him as he took a sip of his wine. "Uncomfortable, your- I mean, Thorin?"
Thorin turned from her. "Aye, you don't like talking about your time in The Wild."
Ora tensed, "No. I don't."
"Why not? From what I've heard, you're very brave."
"If I may be so bold to ask? How have you heard these things exactly?"
Thorin paused for a moment, hesitating mid way to raising the glass to his lips. "I have asked about you."
"Why?" Ora nearly laughed, but she quickly (and badly) caught herself.
Thorin glanced at her. "You've certainly made yourself known over these past few months, lass. You have some very admirable qualities, and I simply wanted to know about their origins. Do you have a problem with that?" He actually sounded sincere, like he was genuinely asking if his inquiries about her bothered her. Of course, it did, but she'd never admit that.
"Of course not, Thorin." She cringed.
Thorin turned his gaze from her again, "Good. You're very unique."
Thorin Oakenshield was infamous for his brash approach to things. He certainly wasn't one to beat around the bush. If he thought something, then he'd say it. In some cases it was very haughty and rude, because he knew all too well no one would dare speak back to him, although he was well respected. And although, Ora admired that approach to life from afar, she definitely didn't like being on this end of it.
"You seem to know a lot about me. How much exactly?"
"Dwalin told me of the night your brother was killed."
Ora flinched, and her breath caught in her throat like a little gasp. She tried to clear her throat and rub the stinging in her nose away, but she knew Thorin's eyes were on her.
"My apologies. I did not mean to touch a sensitive subject to you, I only mean to learn more about you."
"But why?"
Thorin took another sip of wine, and a thin thought passed through Ora's mind suggesting that she do the same. But she didn't, she left her wine untouched.
"Like I said, you have some very admirable qualities, like none I've seen before in a female. You're bravery and loyalty is astonishing."
If Ora wasn't so wound up in that moment in time, she definitely would have blushed. However, she was still processing the thought that the king not only knew about her time in The Wild, but he also knew about her brother's death. Why must he know about those events? Why must he have to know about her past? It's not his business, nor is it anyone's.
"I'm sorry, Thorin." She said, maybe a little too quickly, "But I'm afraid I don't feel comfortable with this topic."
Thorin looked at her once more, she was staring into her wine glass and he nodded.
"Of course."
There was a long paused before he finally spoke, just when Ora was debating trying her wine again.
"Kili tried to bake today."
Ora smiled at that, "Really?" She looked up at him, her mood quickly changing as an image of the young prince rushing round a kitchen floated through her head. "And how did that go?"
Thorin turned to her again, in the fire light it almost looked like he was smiling a little.
"Not well," He admitted with a sigh, "Nearly set the place on fire."
Ora laughed, "Oh, Mahal, did he manage to actually cook anything?"
"Other than his hair?" Ora giggled at that, and she was sure Thorin smiled, but he quickly hid it when he took another sip of wine. "No, but he did make a large pile of charcoal."
Ora giggled again. She was surprised to find that Thorin might actually have a sense of humour, and she found herself liking the way his eyes twinkled slightly when he spoke about his nephew.
She finally took a sip of wine, savouring the way the spices danced and popped on her tongue.
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Okaaaaaay
Another chapter!
I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter! Simply because I didn't want the dinner to come across too forward or soon. I hope the reason came across though, but I wanted Ora to stay naïve.
Anyway
Thank you to all those who have followed, favourited and reviewed.
Please let me know what you think of this chapter!11
I love hearing what you all have to say, it means so much to me! MWAH!
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