"I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."- I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair, Pablo Neruda
As he passed his hand appreciatively over the cool and smooth iron of the spear, which was diametrically opposed to the brittle surface of the tools that that bargeman had offered them, he smirked to himself. After inspecting the weapon, he passed it to Kili who stood behind him, holding onto to three large swords. They did not equal Orcist that he'd had to forsake after their escape from the elf's halls and could not hope to compare to dwarvish weapons and did not approach their quality. But he supposed that they would make do, especially after he had seen what the alternative was.
As he handed Kili the spear, he saw his nephew shift uncomfortably under the weight of it. He looked his nephew over and saw that the binding which Laurel had put over his thigh had been stained black and that his nephew's eyes were glassy and his forehead glistened with sweat and fever, even in the dull light of the moon. He asked: "Are you alright?" as he saw Kili's face twist and contort in pain at the added weight he had to carry. His nephew immediately straightened at the sound of his voice and putting on a brave and strong façade, that Thorin could see through immediately as he had known the young dwarf and his mannerisms since birth, his youngest nephew stated: "I will manage." Though nodding brusquely in response to his nephew's affirmation, Thorin pursed his lips in dissatisfaction at his nephew's state, familial worry seizing his heart. He knew that in this weakened state, it would surely mean death for Kili to enter that mountain and face Smaug and he was loathe to let one of his two remaining relatives endanger themselves in such a manner.
He also grew angered and chagrined at his state. He was indignant that Kili had allowed himself to be hurt so easily, knowing that they were so close to Erebor. That he had become wounded when he knew that they had to be at their strongest and most potent when facing that fireworm. He was annoyed that another worry was thrust upon him and as he looked at his nephew's weakly state he wondered if perhaps, Kili wouldn't even have the chance of seeing Erebor in this lifetime. He was annoyed, annoyed that his nephew had not considered that Thorin's mind was already filled with thoughts of Erebor... and her... and he needed no other distractions or things that could occupy his mind.
He grew even more chagrined when the reticence, that he had encouraged so that they would remain undetected, was violently broken by the sound of metal clanging as it fell to the floor and he looked towards the staircase to see that Kili had fallen on the steps and had let go off the weapons which had fallen with a metallic clang and created a ruckus that he'd felt had been loud enough to wake Smaug in Erebor. His jaw slackened and his lips parted in disbelief and he could not help but feel fierce acrimony towards his young nephew who had pridefully overestimated his capabilities. For a moment deadly silence reigned between them, which was broken when the bells started toiling in alarm to signal their theft. Before he could even construe a rational thought, guards were upon them and he was backed against the wall with the sharp blade of a templar's sword trained against his throat.
They were led out in the cold winter evening, which was illuminated by the fire of the guards' torches. He looked to his side scornfully as he watched the citizens of Lake Town watching the procession with curious eyes. The snow that fell upon them was tinged red by the glowing of the fire and settled heavily upon him like an algid overcoat. He and his company were lead to the main square and stood before the Master's residence, awaiting the man to exit. Thorin gritted his teeth in humiliation as he saw the growing mob of humans that had assembled to watch him as if he were a common criminal awaiting his sentence and not the mountain king returned to claim his birth right.
The doors opened to reveal a large and broad man with wisps of ginger hair combed carefully on his head. The man stepped ascended the stairs from the entrance of his home, that was more opulent than all the buildings of Esgaroth put together, towards where the dwarves stood while putting on a heavy and fur-lined overcoat. From the healthy stature of the man and his opulent clothing, he could see that there was a large disparity between the Master and the other inhabitants of Lake Town, concerning their lifestyle and well-being. Immediately he felt a sort of disrespect for the man that while he would get fat on food and drink and dress himself with the most expensive fabric, allowed his people to wallow in misery.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Master of Lake Town asked, visibly incensed that his night's rest had been abruptly disturbed. He saw the man purse his lips in distaste as his eyes landed on his company and him and Thorin bristled in indignation that this man would look upon him with such scorn. The head guard answered the Master, raising his voice so he would be heard over the tumultuous sound of conversation being emitted from the crowd assembled: "We caught them stealing weapons, sire." The man looked upon them with a condescending smirk and stated: "Enemy of the states then, eh?" A shorter man dressed all in black stood beside the Master and stated in a nasal voice that Thorin briefly recognized as the same man who had been intent on preventing their entry into Esgaroth: "A desperate bunch of mercenaries if ever I saw one, master." Thorin's nostrils flared in rage at the man's description, but he contained his rage. The same could not be said for all members of his company as he heard Dwalin spit wrathfully: "Hold your tongue!" He watched his friend step forwards, meeting the impassive gaze of the Master with his own more fierce one. "You do not know to whom you speak," his friend continued as he stepped towards him and with a loud voice he declared: "This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror."
Bilbo and Balin, who had stood before him moved aside as he stepped forward into the Master's gaze with a proud expression on his aquiline features and with utter surety stated: "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland." He watched as the Master's self-satisfied expression and his eyes widened with surprise and disbelief at his claim. He continued undeterred by the sovereign's reaction and the shocked clamour which rose from the crowd of people surrounding him: "I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of bolts laid harbour filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake." He allowed his eyes to move over the crowd to see their longing expressions as he mentioned the riches this town had once seen. He exclaimed: "This was the centre of all trade in the North." As if saying in one voice, he heard the assembled citizens' loud approval of his words. Raising his voice so he could be heard over their cries of support, he declared: "I would see those days returned. I would relight the great forges of the dwarves and send riches and wealth flowing once more from the halls of Erebor." The citizens shouted their approval and support in enthusiastic cheer and Thorin looked over his shoulder to the Master, who had gotten a glint of avariciousness in his small beady eyes at the prospects Thorin had portrayed.
He stood at the centre of the square basking in the glory of the people's support, when one voice rose above the cheer and exclaimed: "Death." In response, the cheer died down and silence enveloped them. He turned towards the source of the voice and saw the bargeman step out from the crowd with Laurel at his side. For a moment he faltered, unable to respond to what the bargeman had spat in such an accusing and adverse tone. He lashed himself into a fierce and possessive jealousy to see Laurel at that man's side and knowing that while they had worried over her absence and her whereabouts, she had been with that human, that poor excuse for a bowman. And she was looking at him with a determined and unrelenting gaze, any trace of fear or sadness that had haunted her gaze during their time in Mirkwood gone. "That is what you will bring upon us." he heard the bargeman state but he did not pay attention to him as he kept her gaze, in anger, meeting her equally fiery gaze. Silently with his expression, he urged- ordered her to move away from the man who wished to defy him. But she did not move and stood resolutely at his side.
He was just about to step forward and pull her away from him roughly, if she continued to relent by her hair if necessary, when his gaze was diverted to the bargeman who stepped towards him menacingly and stated: "Dragonfire and ruin. If you waken that beast it will destroy us all." He watched with worried eyes as he saw the Lake towners' expression, which had been filled with support over his endeavour previously, twist with concern and fear and he assured them quickly before the bargeman could achieve his intention: "You can listen to this naysayer. If we succeed all will share in the wealth of the mountain." At the sound and prospect of wealth to this forsaken city, once more outcries of approval and enthusiasm rose in the crowd and he smirked at the disbelieving and downcast expression of the bargeman as he watched his neighbours support their cause. "You will have enough gold to rebuild Esgaroth ten times over," he exclaimed in a triumphant shout and in response the Laketowners cheered their support.
He watched the bargeman turn as he searched for one unsupporting face in the homogeneous crowd and stated in a loud and frantic voice: "Listen to me! You must listen to me!" He stood before the people with his back turned towards Thorin and asked: "Do you remember what happened to Dale? Have you forgotten those who died in the firestorm? And for what purpose? The blind ambition of a mountain king so driven by his greed he cannot see beyond his own desires!" His eyes flashed in indignation at the man's words and his accusations, which only increased as he saw her look down with a heavy and unreadable expression, almost as if she believed the words of this man. As if she preferred to believe the claims of this stranger than what she knew of him, than what she had discovered of him slowly as he had unwillingly divulged all of his being to her unable to resist doing so.
"No, no." he heard a nasal voice state from behind him and he looked back to see the Master raising his finger accusingly at the man before him. "We must not... any of us be too quick to lay blame." He saw the bargeman's face contort with contempt as he looked towards his superior but recognizing their hierarchical order he kept silent as the Master stated in a sly voice: "Let us not forge that it was Girion, your ancestor, who failed to kill the beast." Thorin felt his brow raise in surprise at the revelation and his dislike towards the bargeman grew tenfold, exponentially as he blamed him for his ancestor's failure. The bargeman lowered his eyes from the Master and he surged forwards menacingly towards him, while looking down at him. When he was stood before him, he said in a low voice: "You have no right... no right to enter that mountain." Thorin took a step forward and whispered in utter surety: "I have the only right." After having stated those words, his eyes instinctively flickered towards the young red-haired woman stood between her cousin and Balin to see that her fair features were contorted with worry as she looked at the cheering crowd in disbelief. He seethed as he saw her continued support of the bargeman, even after discovering that it was his ancestor's failure that had caused all the misery, all his pain.
He turned away, unable to continue seeing her support and now more determined than ever. He ascended a few steps of the staircase and addressed the Master: "I address the Master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?" The Master had looked at him with a proud expression that had dropped with the mention of treasures and gold and the man had smirked at him and with an avaricious glint in his eyes had declared: "I say onto you... Welcome!" He had spread his arm and as soon as the Master's support had passed his lips the square was drowned with thunderous cheer. He had looked over his shoulders to see the naysayer storming off and he had basked in the glory of having achieved victory. So absorbed he had been by that that he had not seen Laurel's worried and downcast expression.
He stood by the window of the chamber that the Master had given him in his large estate and awaited morning to dawn. He watched as the silhouette of his home shone silver in the light of the full moon. He was close to what he had always wanted, to the target which had influenced his entire life. For as long as he can remember, his thoughts had been filled only with his reclaiming of his homeland. And now he was so close, close enough that he could almost smell the air from his childhood home.
He was roused from his thoughts when he felt arms encircle his waist and a warm, soft form rested against his back. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes in rapture as he felt her sigh in contentment at the sensation of their forms so close together. But he was soon reminded of her betrayal and her behaviour in the square and composing himself he asked: "Why were you with that man?" She did not answer or show any response to his question, he waited a few seconds but seeing that his question would go unanswered if he did not press her, he turned towards her.
His words died on his lips as he laid eyes on that beloved face. He still could not understand how this mere slip of a girl, this small elf had snagged his mind so completely. He would observe her without meaning to and watch her bright red lips, completely ensnared and enchanted by them, as they smiled that radiant and true smile at him. He longed to feel them flush against his with abandoned passion, as they made him inwardly howl like a lost dog at the moon. Temptation washed over him and he longed to free himself of her grasp so that he could pace furiously to the beat of his heart so that he could prevent himself from ravishing her on the spot.
He wanted her, wanted to bind her to him for all eternity with a heavy sense of covetousness. He wanted her to be his and he had long given up discovering the exact reason why. Perhaps it was because of the warmth he felt from inside and out from her. Her mind was childish and kind in the belief that everything in this world was good or not beyond help to obtain the light. The scent of her virgin skin made him moan in a hunger that could not be sated. The taste of peaches still lingered in his mouth from the moment they had spent together, tangled in the moonlight. He smirked possessively, it would not be long until he had reclaimed his kingdom and Laurel would be at his side and his forever.
She stepped out of his grasp and with a warm smile, she proceeded to undo the laces of her dress. As the silk fell and transversed her skin it gave a low sigh that he mirrored simultaneously. She was stood before him, bared to him and he moved towards her with his fingers outstretched. She put her arms around his neck and lowered them and he followed the motion, drunk with her and needing to claim her lips, to claim her. As she laid on the bed and he was finally able to satiate his hunger, he knew what it was like to melt.
His eyes snapped open and he passed a trembling hand over his sweat-drenched forehead. His grey-blue eyes flickered across the room and his right hand shot out to feel the space on the bed beside him. As he only grabbed the fabric of the sheets, intense disappointment filled him and he groaned out loud in his desperation. Closing his eyes, he tried to return to the ecstasy of his dream. Yet he found himself unable to, too stirred by the occurrences of his nightly vision and too euphoric at the prospects of what would happen in the early lights of dawn.
Eventually he gave up trying to rest and he rose to pace the room. Yet the chamber felt constrictive and he decided to exit it and step into the cold night air in an attempt to cool his form that felt as if he was burning in fever. As he walked across the wharf abutting the Master's estate, he came face to face with a slight form that had become so familiar, so necessary, to him during these last months. He watched as she looked towards the Lonely Mountain with her features illuminated silver by the light of the moon and he steeped towards her. He saw her shoulders stiffen as he addressed her and asked: "What are you doing outside so late?"
She did not look at him as she stated in a low voice: "I could not sleep." He smiled at her tenderly and took a step towards her to stand closely beside her. She shuffled her shoulders in discomfort as he stood flush against her side and with her eyes still fixed stubbornly on the mountain, she asked: "What is it you want, Master Oakenshield?"
He did not answer her as he thought: 'You... I want you. By my side, as my wife. I want you to scream that you love me as I move above you in passionate frenzy. Mahal help me, I want nothing but you.'
"I could not sleep also." he provided as answer for her question. She furrowed her brow but stayed silent. The realisation came upon him as he looked at her. He realised that he adored every fibre of her being and that despite her probable plans to return to Bag End he would not let her go, he could not. He needed her. He had never loved before, his life had been too busy and his thoughts too troubled. Yet now he loved and he would love and even if he knew how, he would never quit her.
He was roused from his thoughts when her voice broke the silence: "I was so used to dreaming about Erebor surrounded with fire that it seems foreign in such an idyllic state." He furrowed his brows at her inquisitively and he watched her contemplative expression. For the first time in their current encounter she looked towards him and explained in a voice drenched with defeat: "I used to dream about you. Your past, your present." His eyes widened as she looked down and stated with a bitter smirk: "I know it sounds mad but I know not how to explain it. All I know is that I used to dream of you before had ever met."
He looked at her in surprise and astonishment. He did not worry that she might have dreamt of actions he had taken and things he had done that he had been less than proud of. He could only see her dreams as a sign that she was meant for him- that she was his.
As she whispered, almost in a guilty confession: "You were my hero.", he wished to claim her as his, forever.
"Do I correspond to your image?" he asked her huskily. In response her head whipped towards him and her brows furrowed in confusion. For a moment she studied his expression and he did not bother to mask his want, his infatuation for her. She looked away from him once more, back towards the silver mountain. She did not answer him for a long moment but then she said: "You do not see the lives you deem secondary to yourself, Master Oakenshield. You are blinded by your greed."
He was roused violently from his haze and was reminded of what had occurred at the central square and the support she had shown towards that naysayer. He felt acrimony and anger at her continued stubbornness and her blatant distaste for him. With jealousy burning in his eyes, he hissed: "Is that what that man told you?" Her head whipped towards him and she looked at him with surprised disbelief. For a moment, he thought that she did not know who spoke of so he once more stated through gritted teeth: "You know who I speak of... that poor excuse for a bargeman. He is a fool and a naysayer. You should not listen to him, especially when it is he who carries fault for Erebor's fall."
She looked at him with wide and disbelieving eyes, her lips parted in shock. For a moment she studied him, almost as if searching his face in hope to find something in his expression that contradicted his words. She looked down and whispered something that sounded like 'deluded' to him. She raised her head and in a low voice she stated: "He can see clearly. He is not blinded by his desires."
Once more lashing himself into an acerbic and destructive jealousy on accounts of that man, he watched her as she defended that human. He longed for her fierce defence, for her compassionate and fond consideration. He moved towards her, fuelled by his anger and need, and unable to continue listening to her speaking admiring words about another man, he claimed her lips punishingly. Wishing to mark her as his own.
Her lips were like rigid stone beneath him and her form was stiff like ice in his grasp. He moved his lips roughly over hers in a bruising kiss, attempting to garner a response from her. Yet she did not melt against him and tremble in his chest like she had done that blessed moment in the forest clearing. She stood against him with her arms drawn up, so that he held her thin wrists in one of his hand while the other pressed her flush to him by the small of her back. Frustration rose within him at her unresponsiveness and leaning his forehead against hers with his eyes closed in distress, he uttered against her lips: "Please... kiss me back." He once more plundered her lips but then he felt a sharp sting on his lower lips from where her teeth broke through the flesh and he stepped back. He held his lips that bled after she had bitten and looked towards her in disbelief, while she wiped the red from her mouth. Her expression mirrored his.
But then her head snapped to the side, as her attention was drawn to something else and she saw her eyes wide. Confused by her alarm, he looked towards the source of it, following her gaze to find his eldest nephew looking at him and Laurel with a disbelieving and tortured expression. He had expected himself to feel guilt at his nephew's discovery of the true nature of his feelings for Laurel. Especially as he had always cared for his nephew being his mentor and he knew that Fili loved Laurel as well. Yet he found himself feeling a strange sense of triumph that his nephew had found them in this compromising situation and finally knew that Laurel was his.
She breathed past him and moved away without another word to either of them. He saw Fili following her with eyes and looking at her with a disbelieving, hurt and slightly beseeching expression. He saw Fili start forward, wishing to go after her, but with a dark gaze and a warning authoritative voice he warned him not to. Fili looked towards him with a startled expression, yet his surprise soon morphed to anger. Thorin took a step towards his nephew and told him: "Stay away from her." Fili barred his teeth in distaste and hissing asked him: "What right do you have after causing her so much pain?" He grew angry and grabbing the boy by his forearm in a tight and bruising grip he stated: "I will not see you pursue what is mine. Laurel is mine."
AN: I couldn't resist waiting to post this chapter. As you can see many developments. I post this with mixed feelings- anxiety and excitement. I hope you like the developments. This is a turning point for Thorin, as you probably realised. Tell me what you thought in a review, please.