Don't miss the previous chapter! I posted two today!
Cheers,
kkolmakov
Thorin entered the infirmary, just before dawn. Kili slept, awkwardly tucked in a berth too long for him. Thorin was painfully reminded of the time when Kili as a child had been running a horrid fever and they feared for his life. His face was now as ashen, sweat glistening on his temples.
"We do not know what it is," a healer told Thorin, bent in a respectful half bow. Everyone treated them with some sort of cloy reverence, and Thorin felt anger rise. "Perhaps, it is being in cold water right after the injury."
Thorin watched his sister-son for a few minutes and went back to the rooms they were placed.
Half of the company was wandering the halls, gathering their bearings after the revel of the last night. Thorin beckoned Fili who was organising his swords and knives.
"Kili will not travel with us. He is ill, and he will slow us down. We only have a day left."
"But, Uncle..." Fili started. Thorin noted that Fili had just interrupted him, perhaps, for the first time in his life.
"I will leave Oin with him. I do not trust the healers here."
"I will stay as well," Fili said in a low voice.
"Fili, you belong with the company."
"I belong with my brother," the young man sneered and quickly left, probably heading to the infirmary.
Thorin snarled. He had just lost yet another capable warrior. They knew not what was in the mountain! And Fili knew nothing of wounds and medicine! Oin had been the wise choice, while still a sacrifice, since the old man was a seasoned fighter. Now Thorin would have to give up three swords, even before he was to face a serpent.
Or perhaps he was to give up four, since Mahal only knew what state the woman was in.
"Where is Werna?" he asked looking around.
"She is with the Halfling. They went that way," Bombur answered, waving towards a back door.
Thorin decided that the fact that she might be another one to be left behind due to wounds was an excuse enough to barge in.
The two of them stood very close to each other, whispering, their foreheads almost touching. Both were fully dressed for the travel, and she looked much less feverish than the night before. Thorin praised himself for sending her to bed, pushing the thoughts of the rest of the conversation they had had at the back of his mind.
"... please, Bilbo, you have to listen to me!" she raised her voice, her tone pleading, and the Hobbit opened his mouth to answer, but then noticed Thorin, and closed it sharply. She turned, and her eyes met Thorin's. He did notice how the expression in them changed from tender and upset, to an irked one.
"My lord," she greeted him, and the tone was cold. The Halfling looked between them, and then uneasily shifted between his feet.
"I will go take my belongings to the boat," he mumbled and left the courtyard, squeezing by Thorin, trying not to brush the Lakemen clothing - which looked preposterous on him - to Thorin's coat.
Apparently, not wishing to stay alone with him, Werna attempted to follow the Hobbit.
"Werna," Thorin softly called after her, and halted her placing his hand on her upper arm. He once again lamented his lack of eloquence. She stopped, pressed her lips, and exhaled noisily. The fact that she was not moving gave him hope. He searched for the right words. None came. "How are you faring today?" The question sounded uncertain, and he felt like cringing from the weakness of his voice.
She jerked her face up, the slanted eyes burning with anger, and he saw bright red lips part, no doubt to give him a scorching remark. And then he saw her face soften.
She stepped to him and cupped his face with her hand. Thorin felt his breath hitch from surprise. He thought she was displeased with him! He did not know how to mend it, and with all honesty he knew not what how they had ended up in this predicament, and who was at fault - but a loving warm smile and her eyes roaming his face was the opposite from the behaviour that he had expected from her.
"Do not worry, my King. I have recovered sufficiently." She leaned in and quickly kissed his lips. Before he had time to gather his bearings and answer to her caress, she was gone.
Thorin decided to go back to his previous plan - to reclaim Erebor, and only then sort out women in his life - considering that the second endeavour would probably show itself much more taxing.
They walked up the hidden staircase, Thorin's eyes straying to the profile of his grandfather again and again. The former lands of his people - now desolated and lying in ruins - made his heart hurt.
And then the time seemed to hasten, as if a curse lay on them: the day ended, and the light of it faded, and with it the - hope. They had failed. All of what they had been through had been for nothing.
"What did we miss? Balin?" His voice was coarse and disobedient.
"Thorin…" he heard the woman softly exclaim, but he could not even look at her.
"We've lost the light. There's no more to be done. We had but one chance. Come away, lads. It is over," Balin answered.
Thorin just could not seem to take a breath in. His chest tightened, and hands shook. He took his body under control, clenching his teeth, not letting tears rush. He saw the company's pale confused faces, and he turned away from the cursed wall, letting the key slip out of his hand. Now, it was nothing but a trinket.
"Wait a minute! Where are you going?" the Halfling started as much as dashing between the company.
"Thorin, you cannot leave now..." Werna chimed in, and Thorin threw her a dark look.
"You cannot give up! You cannot give up now!" the Hobbit pleaded to him. Thorin was already by the stairs, when Werna grabbed his sleeve, trying to look into his eyes.
"Please, Thorin, we cannot just leave…" Thorin ignored her, and the Halfling's squawking, and then she pulled at his arm harder, "Listen to him, Thorin!"
Rage rose, and Thorin grabbed her arm in return.
"Either stay here with him..." Some strange pain bloomed between his ribs, and he could hardly recognise his own strangled voice. "Or you are leaving with me."
Werna's face wavered, and he saw her eyes mist.
"Thorin..." He guessed by the movement of her lips that she whispered his name, and then she lowered her face in defeat. "I am leaving with you."
"Werna, please!" the Halfling called after her, and Thorin sneered.
They were already on the stairs, the company had started its descend, only Balin waiting for him on the top. The realisation of what he had just lost was washing over him - the Kingdom, the Arkenstone, the throne, Werna… He would not become the King, he would not marry a niece of Dain Ironfoot, he would not unite the Seven Dwarven Kingdoms… He had allowed himself hope, and that was his punishment! Thoughts thrashed, tangling, and he almost pressed his hands to his temples, but he condoned mawkish dramatic gesture, so he just pushed himself to walk.
She suddenly stopped, and he heard her exhale loudly.
"I cannot leave Bilbo alone," she addressed Balin, her voice shaking, and Thorin looked at her. Her face was pallid, and she was visibly quaking. She was purposefully avoiding to look at him! With some strange keenness he saw tears on the ends of her lashes.
Thorin felt furious. He did not need her pain and anguish to add to his! She could not even understand what loss he had just endured, what wound he had just sustained! And he did not need her pity! And he did not need her!
"Go to him now, and I never want to see you again."
He did not know where the words came from. Balin said something softly at the background, to pacify, and to soften his behaviour - as always, curse it! - but Thorin did not hear. He met her eyes, and she was silent, studying his face, her lips trembling.
And then she gave him a soft smile, so loving, and so sad, and the odd pain in his side magnified, taking his breath away.
"Goodbye, Thorin," she whispered, and turned to go back.
"Come back!" The Hobbit's voice suddenly rang. "It is the last of the moon! The last light of Autumn!"
Thorin rushed back to the door, by the woman, and by Balin, not hearing or seeing anything.
"The last moon of Autumn!" the Halfling cried out, and laughed, and Thorin stepped onto the ledge, his eyes already on the keyhole in the wall.
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Also available on the blog:
romance webserial: Dr. T Series
Summary: Wren Leary, a young biochem student is placed before a choice: Will it be Philip Durinson, the self-assured ball of sunshine and a uni stud, or his cantankerous and mistrusting uncle, John Thorington? The first one is her friend, the second one regrets that night in the tent. Wrennie is in a pickle.
Updated every Saturday!
JukePop: Katya Kolmakov
Blind Carnival, a parody on romance/erotic novels
Summary: Olivia Dane is an author of trashy romance novels. She lost her husband seven years ago and seeks no relationship, preferring the company of her imaginary yet dashing protagonists. When forced to go on a blind date, the last thing Olivia expects is to meet John Dowling, an architect, and a willing guinea pig for her writing research. Armed with openness and eager curiosity, Olivia and John endeavour to find out if erotic clichés even work, whether relationships tie one down, and who wears the trousers in this couple.
Updated every Thursday!
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My book on Amazon!
CONVINCE ME THE WINTER IS OVER
{my first novel
inspired by the story initially written here}
Available on Amazon in Kindle and Paper!
Summary:
Renee Miller is a reclusive web designer who, after several hours of delirium from flu, wakes up to find a stranger in boxer briefs standing in her bathroom.
John is an archaeologist who finds himself stuck in a stranger's flat in a snowstorm.
Frozen in her neat and clean world of highly functional anxieties and her history of childhood trauma, Renee is perhaps the worst possible host for her flatmate's boyfriend's colleague. Yet, while the fervent gush of life that is John Greaves disrupts her carefully guarded existence, Renee finds herself gradually yearning for more.
Is John the first breath of Spring in her frigid world?