Wren sat in his arms, her nose pressed into his neck under his ear, and she skewed her eyes at it. It was large, so very Dwarven, and sudden tenderness flooded her. She imagined pressing her lips to it, but then stopped herself. Surely, such frivolities would be shocking for him. Not only he was a King and a Dwarf, and the only reason they were currently in such position was that she was his only companion, and he, as any living being, required some warmth, but also she reminded herself they had exchanged nothing but two kisses, and were their circumstances any different two kisses would still be nothing, hardly even a beginning for anything more. And again, she thought bitterly, were their circumstances different, she would not have received as much a word from him, not even a glance. Had they met in his Halls, had he lived, what a simple healer of Men were to have in common with the King Under the Mountain? She felt suddenly cold, despite his hot fragrant skin near her, and she pressed into him harder. She would allow herself just one moment, one moment of pretending she had a right for this touch, for this embrace, for his arms around her, his heart strongly beating under her hand on his chest, for the soft heavy wave of his hair brushing at her cheek. She would not cry, she ordered herself, she would absorb this piercing moment, like leaves drink sunlight.
"Wren, are you spoken for?" The King's voice was low, an uncharacteristic hesitation in it, and her body jolted. From the sound of his velvet voice and from the meaning of his question, her hand curled unintentionally, and she was now clenching in her fist a handful of his tunic. She took a careful breath in, prohibiting herself to read anything into this question, and prepared to answer when he interrupted her, "Forgive me, I should not have asked." He slightly shook his head, and she rushed to reassure him.
"You can ask.."
"Of course you are not," they spoke at the same time, and she straightened up and looked at him. Her first thought was that he had just implied she was not worthy of anyone's affection and desire to bind their life with her, and she agreed, but sitting in his arms and hearing such words… hurt. He was looking straight ahead, and she suddenly noticed crow's feet in the corners of his eyes. Her mind whirled, and then he turned and gave her a soft look. "You would not have kissed me if you were, you are too honourable for that."
Heady blush spilled on her cheeks. The compliment was so very generous, especially from a Dwarf, for whom nothing mattered more than honour! And yet it was erroneous, she suddenly thought. Were she someone other's betrothed, she would still have given him her heart, even though he had no use of it. There was no choice, not for her. She would not of course have become an adulteress, she would have seized her association with another man once she realised her feelings for the King, but she knew now she would have given up any other, unless she were married and a mother of course.
"You do not know me..." She mumbled, and he suddenly smiled widely.
"I have had plenty of time to ponder your character, Wren. When my anger does not get the best of me, I can be rather perceptive," his eyes were laughing, and she blushed more. She instantly realised she was sitting on his lap, his body was close, and she wondered whether he was even aware of how inappropriate their position was. Perhaps, it was different for Dwarves, she could not know, the mountain dwellers were secretive regarding their internal customs.
"What does 'zunshul' mean?" She asked, just to ask something, and he leaned in and pressed his warm lips to her cheek. She kept on staring at him thought this caress, she noted thick long lashes and the tip of his long prominent nose pressing into her skin.
"Alike a bird," he spoke quietly, his tone soft and slightly bashful, and then he chuckled, "I do not know where that came from… You are just so small..."
"From the name perhaps," she pointed at the obvious, fighting her own mawkishness, and he chuckled again.
"You are not very maudlin, are you, Wren?" Their eyes met, his bright blue irises very close, and she could not help but snort. "Little prudent healer from Enedwaith… Depriving my courtship of any charm, aye?" He was smiling to her impishly, but her face dropped.
"Courtship?" She asked squeakily, and immediately regretted her words. It sounded as it she did not approve, while she was just surprised. He tensed under her, and she understood she offended him. She rushed to reassure, "I was not aware you placed so much meaning into it, I apologise for asking..."
"You are right though," he shifted under her, seemingly attempting to carefully take her off his lap, and panic burst in her mind. Without her will her arm wrapped tightly around his neck, and she pressed her forehead into his temple.
"Please… I apologise for my words, I did not mean to offend." His chest was rising under her hand, and she released the tunic and stroked him. "I am honoured that you consider us courting..." It was easier to talk now that she could not see his face.
"You should not be. I am taking advantage of your position and tainting… You have shown nothing but kindness to me, and you are in danger because of the quest bestowed to you, and I..."
"You are not the only one making decisions here!" In her desire to reassure him, she took a sharp breath in, overcoming her bashfulness, and she cupped his face, gently turning it to her to meet his eyes. "You sound as if you think you have deceived and… seduced me," she stumbled over her words, and his eyes darkened, "Yes, we have no choice but to meet here and try to find ways out of your… predicament, but how we treat each other… It is upon us alone." His face wavered slightly, just an almost unnoticeable frown in the black brows, and she gulped feeling endlessly uneasy.
"I fear my intentions might seem dishonourable," he spoke slowly, with difficulty breaching a subject, which he clearly was unaccustomed to discuss.
"I do not doubt them," she answered firmly. She did not lie. However little, as she imagined, he would have paid her heed in other circumstances, she was certain his actions now were caused by nothing but honest feelings.
"You have no choice here, Wren," he mumbled and cringed, apparently unsatisfied with his words.
"I could move away from you and sit on another chair," she attempted to lighten his mood with a jest.
"You know what I speak of," he grumbled and gave her a glare from the corner of his eye.
"I honestly do not," she said and stroked his chest again. She did not understand this sudden uncertainty of his, but it was endlessly endearing. "I do not even have to come in into this hall."
"I am a Dwarf, Wren," he suddenly raised his voice and she understood he was trying to delegate some notion to her. She did not understand but nodded, encouraging him to go on. "It is different for us, when we meet… It is of no importance," he suddenly veered from his statement, "You are of Men, had I been alive, you would have had choice, perhaps you would not have wanted to even talk to me… Even if Dale is now restored, people surely have not forgotten their mistrust of the Khazad, and..." He continued talking, in a low somber tone, but she could not hear him. She felt as if she was once again hit to the back of her head by some heavy weapon. He thought she would not want him were the circumstances different!
"Wren?" She heard his voice, he was addressing her quite obviously irritated by her lack of attention, and she threw all her caution aside, grabbed his ears and pressed her mouth to his.
He made a surprised hum like noise but quickly recovered, and his hands grabbed her upper arms. He pulled her closer, and she once again marvelled in his inexperience and enthusiasm. The mixture was intoxicating, and she rushed ahead. One thought thrashed in her mind, she would have him for so little! Her tongue brushed at his lips, a low rumble suddenly rolled somewhere in his chest, it reminded her of a purr of some large cat, a mountain lion perhaps, it was so unfamiliar and so thrilling, and she lost any sense of dignity and propriety, and pushed his lips open. He exhaled, unmoving for an instant, and then his large palm cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and he pressed her impossibly close, tilting her head to his convenience, and his tongue rushed to meet hers. She moaned into his mouth, unable to control herself, her whole body singing, blood as if boiling in her veins, and she clawed at his shoulders.
"Wren..." He had released her mouth, and immediately slipped his lips on her jaw, and then neck, she dropped her head back, she was terrified he would not understand how much she was enjoying his attentions, "Wren… Kurdu..."
A quiet creek reached her mind, and she felt the King in her arms freeze.
"What?..." She felt completely muddled, as if after a few mugs of the strongest of brew. And she also felt rather irritated, she did not want him to stop!
"It is the door, it is… opening," his tone was tense, and she sharply sat up and whipped her head. He was right, one of the leaves was vibrating, and then the ring on its handle jerked. "I think you are told to leave..." He was staring at the door, and she felt suddenly embarrassed. Not only from the disarray that his and no doubt her hair were in, but also from the sudden understanding that if she was so delicately hinted that their time was up, there was a sentience in this Hall capable of observing them and even making hints. The creek of the door, she suddenly thought, was an equivalent of a delicate cough. Wren jumped off his lap.
"Wren," he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, she dug her heels into the floor. "We have not discussed what you are to do now!"
"There is nothing to discuss," she answered absent-mindedly, looking at the door. The handle jumped up again insistently. "I need to go..."
"Wren," his tone was irked and uncertain, and she turned and met his eyes.
"Thorin," her lips wrapped around his name without effort, and she would think about how it felt later, "I am sure of it, I will be safe, Dwalin and Bofur are with me. We are near the Mountains already, we will cross them, and I will speak to Lord Elrond," she spoke quickly, he was pressing his lips in a distress grimace, "Please, trust me.."
He was still sitting, and she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his in a chaste but passionate kiss.
"We will talk soon again," she whispered in his lips, and he sighed. Their foreheads pressed together, she closed her eyes, reveling in the moment, and then rushed to the door. The last sensation she was aware of were her fingers slipping out of his, and…
Ra adjini tada zasaziliki e... / I'll hope you'll remember me…
"Good morning, lass," Bofur's merry voice came from the campfire, and Wren kept her eyes closed for a few more instants. Silly tears were choking her, she pressed her face into her rolled up cloak to hide them. It was time to get up and continue her journey.
