Rín simply stared at him, her mouth hanging open, "You toy with me."
Thorin had drawn the two of them a little ways away from their campfire, just enough so that they would not disturb Geir. After planting a lit torch in the ground, he turned on her again.
"Do I look as if I 'toy' with you? Do I ever 'toy' with you?" Thorin asked with a raised brow (and Rín resisted the urge to tell him 'every damned day'). "Fine, so be it...Block."
"Whaaaa-" Ríns confusion was cut off as Thorin swung at her with all the force of a thousand boulders. She barely got her own goblin sword up before his came crashing down, the steel of the two blades ringing in her ears as she was forced to her knees.
Thorin then stepped away, studying her quietly as his sword went with him. "You must learn to fight. I can only protect you so far, you must know yourselves if you are to survive this." he said severely, capturing her eyes with his own and assuring her of the seriousness that lay within them. "Now, stand up again. Sword raised once more and block, right, left and up."
It seemed that this time, he would give her even less of a warning. For no sooner had Thorin given her instruction, than he swung at her. However, somehow, this time Rín was prepared...or so she thought. Her mind was changed when his sword intertwined with hers. Digging her feet into the soil, she heaved against him with all her might, only to feel something slip around her calf (his foot she realised, too late), before falling flat on her back. Thorins sword at her throat.
"You must always watch everything around you." he said sternly, withdrawing his blade once more and stepping away as Rín begrudgingly got to her feet. "Your opponents will use any means to make sure they are the ones that walk away. There is no code of behaviour in war. There is only survival, or death."
They went like that even after the sun had slipped below the horizon, simply moving closer to the fire in order to see each other better. Rín and Nannulf took turns against Thorin, who never tired and never stopped. Each 'battle' between Rín and the Once-King grew more aggressive and more complicated (in Ríns opinion - although Thorin never seemed to exert himself much) with each attempt, but Nannulfs stagnated after his third try.
"I'll never be any good at this." Nannulf wailed, dropping to the ground and putting his head in his arms.
Just as Rín moved to comfort the tawny-haired dwarf, Thorin beat her to it. "Do not worry yourself too much Nannulf." he said, not unkindly, dropping down to sit beside him. "I once knew someone just like you, who had the most terrible of problems with weapons, that it could make yours fade in comparison."
"Really?" The youngling asked dolefully, raising his head hesitantly from his arms.
"Really." Thorin answered matter-of-factly, making Rín smile slightly at his manner. "You see, I simply showed him that you must stop thinking of your sword as a sword, and instead see it as an extension of your arm. Do you understand?"
Rín sniggered at the bewildered look on Nannulfs face, "Not really..." he answered, "Can you show me?"
Thorin was silent and sombre as he placed a hand on the boys head, "Yes." he said quietly, getting to his feet and pulling Nannulf with him, "Yes I can show you."
So he did, and by the end of it, the scrappy youngling was fighting with more spirit than Rín had ever seen in him. Exhausted, but eyes still-bright, Nannulf collapsed on the ground, and suddenly it was her turn.
Wearily, Rín got to her feet and faced off against the Once-King. The only sign of any tiredness in the other dwarf was the slight perspiration at his brow, and the faint tick in his jaw that Rín had begun to learn, came when he was fatigued.
"Are you ready?" Thorin asked, pointing his blade directly at her, just like the first time.
"Ye-" Rín began, until, just like the first time she was cut off when he swung at her. With a squeak she ducked under the sword, and parried against the following blow. "What if I wasn't ready?" she said between gritted teeth as she tried unsuccessfully to push him away.
"Then you would be dead." Thorin replied emotionlessly, shoving her backwards.
Incensed at his attitude, Rín tried to fight back harder, but seemingly to no avail. Just when she thought she would slip through his defences, the dark-haired dwarf would whirl at her seemingly out of nowhere, in fact, she spent more time on the defensive than offensive, and it was frustrating.
More tired than she could say, Rín heaved her sword like it was a pickaxe and brought it smashing down, in the hope that it would end this little lesson either way, whether she disarmed him (not that it was likely); or him, her (now that, was more likely). At least it would all be over and she could finally just go to sleep.
In two seconds, Rín felt herself shouldered flat on her back, all the air pushed from her lungs. Winded, she slowly staggered to her feet, and looked on incredulously when Thorin looked like he was ready to begin sparring once more.
"You must be joking." Rín said flatly, too tired to even push her hair from her eyes.
"I already said I-"
"I know, I know," Rín said, holding up her hand and cutting Thorin off, much to his obvious displeasure, "'You do not toy with me', well I am not toying with you now when I say enough is enough. I am going to bed now and nothing you can do will stop me. I will be no use to anyone if I cannot even walk in the morning."
With that, she picked up her sword and resheathed it, before plodding over to Nannulf and hauling him to his feet. The young dwarf was almost asleep, blinking and sagging against her as she began walking closer to their fire. A few steps away, she turned back to Thorin, Nannulf leaning heavily on her shoulder.
"Well? Are you coming?" Rín asked with a raised brow, one hand on her hip (covertly helping her remain standing), the other supporting the sleeping youngling beside her. "You should not stay out here alone, besides, who will help me get Nannulf back to our fire?"
Thorin simply frowned, before sheathing his own sword and joining her on the other side supporting Nannulf. "You did well." he said quietly, after a few steps, and Rín blushed in pride at the Once-Kings praise, glad the darkness hid the red of her cheeks, "Although you still mostly wield your sword as if it is a pickaxe..."
Rín scowled. So much for glowing praise. "I highly doubt you were any better than I when you first wielded a sword." she said stiffly, "In fact, I would go so far as to guess you were worse."
"That would perhaps be because I was even younger than Nannulf here, the first time I handled weaponary." Thorin replied gruffly, "You would have been considered far too old to be taught any sort of skill with a blade in my Age."
Rín blinked, as she put out the little fire they had been using as a source of light, "Too old?" she growled, her eyes narrowing, "I am in the prime of my life! Unlike you gamil khuzdûn."
Thorins beard twitched in the darkness and Rín got the distinct feeling he was silently laughing at her, "Did you just call me old one nithith?" he said, a slow, and entirely real smile spreading across his face, only for her.
Rín smiled shyly back over the tawny head of hair that separated them, before her gaze shifted to a more mischievous expression, "Well how could I let you get away with such an insult to my ability."
White teeth flashed at her in the darkness, and Thorin grinned at her, before his face became solemn once more, as did hers (although it infuriated her when he did that, changing moods so quickly). "I did not know our language continued, I have not heard it spoken once here in this place."
Rín looked down, trying to look like she was watching where her feet stepped, "It was not allowed in Erebor. Anyone caught speaking our language was beaten." she said quietly, "So it is habit now, only to speak Westron."
They were silent after that, for the mood had shifted once more. "Thorin..." Rín suddenly said, swallowing her worries and making up her mind.
"Yes?" came the reply through the darkness.
Rín bit her bottom lip, "If we do manage to survive this and make it into the West, what will you do?"
Embarrassed at asking the question, Rín looked at her feet and waited for a reply, when she got none, she looked up to see an unreadable mask fixed on Thorins face once more, "I do not know." he said finally, "Perhaps I will travel and try to discover why I am here."
"Oh." Rín said, a little dejectedly.
Thorin looked across and studied her for a moment "Let us not think on 'what if' now." he said quietly, "Instead, let us focus on 'what is'."
Rín nodded and gazed into their campfire, which they were steadily approaching. Gently, she prodded Nannulf into a state that was more away and gestured him towards his own bedroll. Without a word, the youngling set off, and she was left alone with the tall, dark dwarf by her side.
"I have not felt so achey since the first time I lifted a pickaxe." Rín grumbled irritably.
She could positively feel Thorin smirking beside her, and had no need to look and confirm her suspicion as she could easily hear it in his voice. "You are not used to using the muscles needed for swordcraft. They are slightly different from those used in mining."
Rín growled to herself, as she stomped over to her bedroll, in no mood for the teasing of any male dwarrow after such an exhausting day, "How wonderful."
Rín stumbled back to her bedroll in the dark, completely ignoring the commotion caused when Nannulf tripped over a heavily snoring Geir. Planting her head, face-first into the pack that served as a pillow, she groaned at the horrible ache in her muscles. Just when she thought she could slip into the oblivion of sleep, she was awakened with a prod. The tip of a heavy boot nudged her side and she opened one eye to glare up at Thorin, who was staring down at her with an expression that was not overly concerned.
"We will do the same every night until you are able to disarm me." Thorin said matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulders.
Rín groaned and scuffed her foot against the ground in mock-dismay, "And what if I am never able to disarm you?" she grumbled.
Thorin raised his eyebrow at her, "Then we will have to the same every night for the rest of our lives." he replied drolly, evidently not impressed with the horrified look on her face.
"Right ray of sunshine and light you are." she mumbled into her pack.
Thorins eyes narrowed into a glare, "What did you say?"
"Nothing." Rín said innocently, entirely too tired to engage in a battle of words that night. The state she was in, there was no way she could win.
"Do not worry." the dark-haired dwarf said as he lowered himself to his own bedroll. "You will become more skilled with time. Probably."
Rín only grunted in response and turned her face back into her 'pillow'. "But time is not something we have much of." she mumbled in reply, before sleep opened its dark arms and drew her into it's embrace.
The Rhûnion had watched the trio of dwarves stumble back into camp through narrowed eyes. The Khuzd made him uncomfortable, and he did not like the way they spoke, the way they acted, or the danger they placed on their party. Perhaps time would show a way of remedying the pestilence these half-men brought with them.
A/N: So Y'all made me very nervous with most of the reviews in the last chapter citing anticipation about the 'fight scene' between Thorin and Rín. As this chapter was already written a week and a half ago, hopefully it lives up to your expectations!
Randomly, I found this review in a fic I had a read of recently, talking about the main character:
Mary-Sue's are characters who carry at least one of the following traits.
*Have non-normal names
*Have a nickname
*Describe the character in question's physical apearence in great detail and/or often
*Is crucial to the plot
*Is different than everyone else
*Chararcters are attracted to the Mary-Sue for no reason
It made me laugh (you can probably guess why). I'm not sure I agree with all their points. Do you? (But then again, I'm not entirely sure what the exact nature of a Mary Sue is. Although I do know they're normally perfect.)
Thanks to harrylee94, xBelekinax, LadyDunla, Samolfran, The Penned Tekrid, L. C. Doyle, whatcatydidnext, UniversalIndicator, TolkeinGirl, rothSpiegelMan, EscapingTheirReality, Suheyla, MrsEMJC, UKReader, JuliMaus89, and DeadheadDaisy for reviewing. As well as those who joined the following/favouriting. :)
Translations (vague and most probably grammatically incorrect):
Gamil khuzdûn: old dwarf (male)
Nithith: young girl