Ch53: Year of Firsts – Healing
A/N:
I'm backtracking a lot here, but it's something I don't remember answering from a review about Élarinya's name sounding elvish: it's actually a Dwarven name from a dwarf name generator, Ellarina (which original commenter from Ch1 had suggested, translating to 'Morning Star', as I had set her birth under a full moon. Elven generators had Elarinya (I just loved the spelling and couldn't help myself...)
Ela in old Norse/Nordic names means 'Earth'...which I do find more fitting as I continue writing since dwarves are people of the Earth.
(Forgive me for bringing this up now...I re-read through all the reviews, which put a smile on my face...)
- you may noticed a weird break between scenes. The mobile app doesn't show the breaks, so I'm getting creative to see whether this'll actually separate 'breaks' so it's less confusing to read on phones.
000
Éla took in a very deep breath, exhaling slowly into the covers keeping her snug beneath the chilled morning air. The hearth was all but embers, its hot flame long burned out. Arms hugged a pillow supporting her head as she curled into the relaxing warmth encasing her form. Her front dipped into the bed as she shifted in sleep.
For the first time in a long while, her dreams were not plagued by nightmares. There were no dreams either. There was peace within the mind, one of contentment no longer vying for serenity previously shrouded by misery. A slumber empty of thought, though pleasant in relaxation.
Thorin finished adjusting the ties on his coat, sight shifting to the form still asleep in bed. Traditionally, it would've been acceptable for a later start to the day post-union, though there were tasks befallen Erebor's future and many would seek his council as King. Alas all good things would have to wait.
A reserved smile threatened to curl the corners of his mouth when he rounded the bed frame to Éla's side closest the fireplace, lowering himself slowly to sit on the edge. Brushing stray hair from her face, his touch gently rubbed from her shoulder down her back, watching her stir awake. He contemplated not waking her yet couldn't help himself to have his day start without seeing her.
"Good morning." The slang of Eastern folk became a gentle reminder to honour their Hobbit friend. A distant memory from wondering how their burglar faired in his return trip home. Thorin made note to write Master Baggins soon.
Peeping through a narrowed view, Éla gazed upon metal dangling inches from her sight before slinking further under the covers. She was cozy and didn't want to leave the entangled comfort. The room was still relatively dark under the grey morning light of dawn.
"What time is it?" Her voice muffled from the pillow. Thorin chuckled.
"The sun is on the rise and I must start my day." He pulled the covers down far enough to see her disheveled features again as she rolled onto her back. "You are free to stay in bed if you wish."
Dark eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, a blue hue cascading over the room from the slit in the window highlighting the silver details and metal of his under-armour. Her gaze shifted peculiarly to the sight of navy blues and blacks. "You're dressed already?"
"Today is going to be long, but I will see you at dinner?"
Éla nodded happily, beckoning him closer by a light tug from the edge of his leather coat. Thorin leaned down, planting a kiss to her forehead before standing to take his leave, fingers trailing down his arm until he was out of reach, leaving hers to fall back over blankets as heavy boots faded and the door clicked shut.
The chill air nipped at her nose when eyes shut out the world around her. A quiet minute passed with an occasional clang or distant echo of the mountain coming to life and starting a new day. Sleep threatened to overtake her again though the she-dwarf reluctantly pushed the many layers of blankets away and got out of bed. Feet slipping onto the cold stone floors did the job of waking her up as she hopped between rugs, gathering her discarded gown from the previous night and setting it aside by the vanity. Upon inspecting the opened wardrobe in the room, she noticed most of her belongings had been transferred there from her prior lodgings just down the hall.
The vanity itself had been stocked with anything she might require and the glass mirror reflecting her silhouette without smudged dirt or dust was clear as crystal with Dwarven runes carved into a stained wooden border. Her sight drifted to her headdress resting on a small podium next to Thorin's crown off to the side. It was odd to see it there. She wondered if he meant to leave it behind that day or if he'd simply forgotten about the royal piece. No, Thorin was their king, he would never forget for everything always had its reasoning.
The frigid temperature of the room was a quick reminder to find warmer clothes as hands rubbed at her arms for warmth. Éla sifted through a rack of clothing from her shared wardrobe, quickly picking out something less formal for the day. Eyes settled on the emerald green dress first worn when they were moved inside Erebor months ago. She swapped into the heavier material and slipped on her boots. Her hair remained intact by the braids so there was no thought to further look presentable as the King's wife.
She paused in thought over the awkwardness of her new status. Yesterday happened almost too quickly, she hadn't allowed reality to sink in.
She was his wife, the King's wife; Thorin Oakenshield, her husband.
"Oh."
Eyes reverted back to her reflection in the mirror. Gone was the former traveler-seamstress and jeweler, the lone maiden without purpose. There would be no more nights of solitude for this life was about to flip on a coin. The dragon Smaug was dead and with it came a new family, a forgotten home, and long-awaited peace.
Éla observed her reflection another short moment before turning away. She reminded herself to take each day as they came, for a new door had been opened. There was no need to dwell on the pain and suffering for she had endured. It terrified her still, but she sought to have meaning now that life could be rebuilt in their homeland. She would see to it that past wounds would no longer haunt this new beginning for they would remain buried with their maker.
May Mahal grant me strength to see this life through.
Éla made for the door but veered back towards the nightstand, reaching for the necklace Thorin gifted her. The faceted gems still sparkled under the dim light from the window, catching her eye by the intricate craftsmanship again before fastening it around her neck. Fingers traced over the heavy teardrop shape, feeling the smaller rune details on its surface, a promise. She would have to ask Thorin about it later.
With a cleared mind, Éla opened the door, bathing the room in a golden glow as she stepped out to start her day.
000
Surprise.
That's how the dwarves of Erebor were greeted when their king had entered the council chambers early that morning followed by Leftenant Dwalin. Fíli sat wide-eyed like the rest of them but softened his reaction upon seeing his uncle join the party at the head of the table, Thorin's face unreadable.
They all planned for a later start on more pressing issues given the small ceremonies which took place the night prior. In fact, the councilors themselves suspected their morning to be more relaxed in debate, expecting their king to take time to get personal affairs in order. That surely was not the case that day.
No, given the nature of his healing injuries and now wed, no one expected Thorin to join them so early. Fíli had been asked to stand in on lighter matters that morning given the events that transpired. He understood 'why' Balin asked the favor of the prince, but seeing his uncle stride in made him a little nervous that something wrong had happened between him and Éla. The sense of dread felt opposite to what he'd witnessed during their hand-fasting. The young heir shook himself of the thought. He was looking too far into it and didn't want to be a cause for embarrassment.
Those at the table rose, waiting for Thorin to take a seat at the head before sitting back down. He gave a small smile to his nephew and Lord Balin, the two responding with curt nods.
Thorin surveyed all in attendance, some downcast their gaze to the papers in front of them, others waiting on their king. "Let's begin."
"Right then, damage report." Dorbir took the reigns, sliding a large scroll in the middle of the table, standing to point to areas of interest. "We sent scouts to survey the lower levels as per Lord Dain's request weeks ago."
The old dwarf separated several other scrolls inked with schematics of Erebor's city map, one for each major area such as the forges and mines further below their halls. "Beyond the counting room near the treasure hoard, much has been left unscathed. Pillars need reinforcing in those areas as some have been uprooted or knocked down by the dragon. While there is no danger of collapse, that level should take priority before more of Durin's Folk arrive."
"Then see to it that it is done." Thorin added.
Dorbir swapped scrolls, bringing forth a different map of another level, pointing at large faded structures Fíli couldn't quite make out. "The forges are inoperable in their current state. We have a small group clearing out debris but it's slow going under winter's conditions. We need wood to get them back up and running but there is little to start fires that large so the coals may be heated." His finger pointed to another area on the map, away from the forge structures. "There were two cave-ins. One near the connector to the river for the conduit circuit and the other by a store room. With proper aid, we could have it operational in a couple months, though we may be facing ice blockages beyond the conduit itself."
"We can make-do without the forges for now." Balin suggested. "Transportation links should be restored first, mainly broken roads and bridges. Small trades have been made up along the River Running for food. The Iron Hills can only supply so much mid-winter."
"What of the irrigation canals and docks?" Dorbir then asked. "Should we make that a priority for when spring arrives? Erebor will need access to more water reserves soon."
"Move your efforts from the forges to the docks." Thorin suggested. "Keep trade open and see to it that our borders are guarded from our enemies."
"What of Dale?" Fíli asked. "Bard has been kind to work out trade with the farmers up the Long Lake to provide for Erebor alongside the city until harvests can be tilled in this area."
"Aye, more men trickle in every few days for reconstruction." Falo added with distaste. "Until more dwarves arrive this spring, there is little that can be done within the mountain itself."
Thorin mulled over their next course of the action as the group began to exchange mumbles and insight amongst each other. Fíli leaned closer to his uncle. "Can we not offer more aid to Dale, maybe with reconstruction efforts?"
Thorin returned a nod of approval, though it would not be an easy task given the damage done to their own borders. He raised a hand to silence the group.
"Focus on the River. Canals should be fixed else we'll have no water for Erebor or Dale come spring." He turned to Dorbir and Falo. "See to it that reconstruction of the battlements gains focus as well if it hasn't. We'll need the front gate restored."
"Therl, anyone that is able to work, get them started on debris. We can spare a small group to aid the men with their own borders while we wait."
"And the food stores?" Therl asked, quill ready to take note.
"Anything that's gone bad, get rid of." Balin scoffed in amusement, eyeing Thorin for any sign of disagreement. "Paths should be cleared for transport and trade first and foremost. We could also trade some more gold to keep food supply on-going until farmlands can be re-harvested for crops. Might not be this spring, but next."
Balin's tone lowered to a dire realization of what they needed to hear. Rationing would continue for the next while yet unless compensation could be bargained between those along the Long Lake from River Running & now Dale.
000
"Morning, Miss Éla."
Dori bowed low in greeting as the female approached the small group leading an empty wheelbarrow towards a shaft to be lowered down another level. The dwarves had reinforced the old pulley systems so that they may reach further underground. As the strongest of the group, Dori was working the pulley while Bifur and Bofur rolled the barrow onto a makeshift platform.
"What brings you this far down, lass?" Bofur asked as cheerful as ever, tipping his hat in acknowledgement as she drew near, a weaved basket hanging on her arm.
"My family had a shop down this way, other than that nothing really." She pointed over her shoulder in the opposite direction. "I've been clearing out anything of value for mending clothes. It would be nice for others to have some variety as more dwarves arrive in Erebor later this year. I was thinking of getting the West-wing cleared out next so no poor soul would have to sleep on rubble."
Dori tugged on the rope, passing it to a dwarf on guard and stepping onto the platform with the other two. "You're more than welcome to join us. We've been bringing up stores from below, full of clothes and blankets."
"Do you need help?" She asked, face lighting up by the offer. "I have nothing planned for the day."
Bofur waved her over. "The more the merrier!"
Éla placed her basket in the barrow and held on to its wooden side as Dori signaled the dwarf to lower the platform. As they were lowered, her eye caught sight of a small pile of torn fabric in the corner. Bofur leaned closer, noticing the shift. "Ye should be warned, we've come across some rooms with the dead, charred black by Smaug. When we find one, we tie a piece for the guards to come do cleanup."
All she could do was nod for she had forgotten about that small detail the last few days. One could presume life returned to some form of normalcy amidst crumbling stone every which way you'd look. She was fortunate not to have seen anything so sorrowful, yet.
As the platform came to a halt, the guards on the next level secured the rope so they wouldn't venture any further. Once secured, the group were signaled to step off and Bifur and Dori wheeled the large barrow down one of the many corridors as Bofur took lead with Éla, leading them past several rooms already cleared out. They walked down a large stretch of the former fortress city. Éla picked up on the area rather quickly. Tunnels and corridors led to various open areas such as the forges, mines, shops, and housing. The atrium they currently paved through was a former common walkway, an intersection of smaller rooms for the people to come from their homes and head wherever their paths led. Each level had one where common civilians trafficked. Éla noted their current location two levels below the treasure hoard.
Bofur led them past a few more doors before turning into their next destination and lighting a few torches on the walls so they wouldn't work in complete darkness. Éla looked around. They'd stumbled upon an old shop. Fabrics and clothing were sprayed about, abandoned long ago from the attack. Tables had been overturned and piles remained in disarray covered in dust, cobwebs, and rock.
Éla watched Dori sift through a pile of clothes to her left. He was somewhat of a sophisticate, having a fancy for good wine, beautiful jewelry, and fine clothes, to which he had carefully inspected the necklace given to her by Thorin the other night. The design had entranced him as he twisted it this way and that, observing its finer intricate details with interest before passing the piece back to her. Now, she caught him giving the same treatment to the wardrobes of clothes they confiscated at each stop that morning, separating it into piles within the wheelbarrow, one for mending and the other for anything in good condition.
The group worked in relative silence aside from Bofur and Dori humming a tune. Dori guided the female with sorting between adult and child sizes for washing. A third pile was for anything that required mending, a task she was more than able to do later on. Anything else would be scrapped and repurposed into rags for the healers or burned.
Sifting through a random bin Éla tugged on a loose ribbon, freeing the article of clothing from beneath the pile of child-sized outfits. Out popped a little bonnet, one that would fit an infant. The cream-colored ribbon weaved through cotton fabric, it's color having faded with time. Gentle fingers traced the scrunched edge without thought, sorrow filling her heart by such a small thing as she straightened the piece in her hands. One day, it would've been used for a child, a happy, simpler time. Now, she silently wished the healers were wrong that dreadful day in the tent outside of Dale. What felt like a second lifetime ago she wished, no, hoped, Mahal would bless her with her own children. A sign that she could provide Thorin & the line of Durin another heir. There was no real pressure put on her given that Fíli was next in line for the throne, but now it wasn't so much a need to provide for Thorin, but a want. Her desire had changed for she wished to be a mother, a title so harshly stripped from her being it now trickled to the forefront of her mind.
Bifur quietly approached the she-dwarf, stopping by her side when curiosity pegged to see why she paused work. His face dropped upon noticing the bonnet in her hands and so he gently removed it from her grasp without a word and tossed it back in the bin, hauling the entire thing to the wagon. Éla blinked out of the memory she lost herself in, returning a saddened smile to the dwarf as he ushered her to follow out of the room as they continued down their path.
Their morning spent pillaging shops and stores left the wheelbarrow piled high. As they headed for one last room on their current level Éla joined Bofur again, rounding an entrance-way. The two stopped dead in their tracks, torch held high and yet the sight was as bright as day. Éla instinctively brought a hand to her mouth and took a step back as they had entered a small chamber. She hadn't paid note to the charred stone along the walls as they ventured further down the stretched corridor.
Her stomach churned from the sight of charred bodies perfectly preserved, threatening to expel the contents of her stomach as she turned her back to the entryway. Dori grabbed a piece of fabric and tied it around a torch post as Bifur nudged Éla to follow him away from the forsaken sight.
"Well that's that for this level." Bofur spoke quietly, returning to the wagon, arm drooping with the torch.
"What's next?" Éla asked without making eye contact. The ghastly sight proved far too uncomfortable for her in that moment.
"We move this load to a store above." Dori said. "For washing and fixing. Though, we could change plans and start clearing out the West-wing."
They turned to Éla for their next task. "I have no objections to a change of scenery."
000
Wooden swords struck, clashing from each blow by their users fully engaged in afternoon combat.
Dwalin charged again, keeping Thorin in a defensive stance as he lunged unrelenting with his swings, testing the dwarf king's strength and stamina post-battle. Thorin never backed down, meeting him strike for strike despite not changing maneuvers. While the worst of his injuries were relatively healed, he still had to be careful from wounds reopening under vigorous use of force. So he waited for an opening.
"C'mon, c'mon. Is that all you got?!" Dwalin edged his friend as one of his two wooden weapons were knocked from his hand. Thorin exchanged smirks with his closest friend as the warrior lunged forward but Thorin spun on his heel, drawing his own weapon between Dwalin's arm and side, grabbing his wrist and disarming the Leftenant in the process.
"Is that all you got after a couple hours, brother?" Thorin stepped away, kicking the weapons to the side, signaling defeat of the warrior kneeling before him. "Do not tell me you're finished already?"
The exchanged banter only made Dwalin rise with a wicked grin while bringing his fists together, ready for a brawl. "Ohh, I will leave that question for your wife to ask."
Thorin's eyes narrowed as he scoffed off the remark in Dwalin's charge. Discarding his own weapon, he met his friend head on in the fight as they began to wrestle in the training room. The two struggled against each other in an attempt to grab hold of the other's center. Thorin kept his body low as Dwalin swept in, the two grasping at the other until Thorin found a lock and hoisted his friend up and then slamming the warrior back on his feet.
The two met again panting from each breath, each extending a boot, nudging the other. Dwalin clapped a heavy hand on his king's shoulder, they would call it a draw for the week.
"No doubt she'll want you to stay in one piece." He stated, signaling the end of their session.
Thorin's arm came to rest near his abdomen as he took in deep breaths. A puzzling look crossed his face. "Are you saying you're doing me a service this match? I clearly won."
Dwalin didn't restrain his laugh. "No, though the Lady might think otherwise if she finds out. Tell me, has Falo truly stepped back?"
Thorin nodded as they fetched their belongings from a nearby bench to take their leave. "Aye. If he knows what's good for him, he won't breathe another word of it again."
Dwalin tilted his head, cracking his neck. "We could always throw him from the ramparts."
The remark received a laugh from the king. "While he may not understand what he does not know, his mind is too valuable to throw away."
"Right then." The warrior made a show of fisting his hand in the other. "If anyone steps out of line again, I will use them as punching bags."
The corners of Thorin's mouth rose by the entertaining thought. "Very well."
The pair headed back towards the upper levels to change before dinner.
There was a low dull throbbing pain in Thorin's side when he reached to unlock the door to his chambers. He most likely pulled a muscle during his training session with Dwalin, having gone a bit too far. His attention went back to the key in his hand. Much to his surprise, the door was already ajar. A second passed when he realized he was no longer the sole occupant now. Pushing aside a warrior's mindset, he nudged the door open and entered.
Not a soul was in sight nor was anything out of place. Perhaps Éla had forgotten to lock the room earlier so he set about finding a clean shirt. Opening the wooden door to the wardrobe, his senses picked up movement to his left, the door to the restroom opening and Éla rounded the corner with a pot of water in hand, bumping into Thorin. His presence caught her off guard as she let out an involuntary yelp as he caught her from falling.
"What were you doing?!" She asked, water sloshing around as they steadied themselves. "Do not sneak up on me like that."
Thorin greeted her with a smirk all too familiar. "There was no sneaking involved. I only just returned."
Eyeing his current state of attire, she placed the pot down by the fire. "What have you been up to?"
Nothing.
"Thorin?" She crossed her arms over her chest, very well knowing he was supposed to be elsewhere for the majority of the day.
"Training." He offered in defeat, turning back to find a shirt but Éla prevented him from leaving, grabbing hold of his arm and turning back to face her.
"And your wounds?"
"Fine." Was all he mustered while failing to bat her away from worry.
"What is with you and one-word answers today?" She shook her head lightly as she probed his ribs above the bandages, receiving a small wince from the king. "Serves you right for going against healers' orders."
He pushed her hands away from him. "It's nothing."
With her other hand she pushed him back into the table. "It most certainly is not. Your bandages require changing now. Wait here."
Éla rushed into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later with some rags and a small basin of water amidst other items, setting them down on the table as she faced Thorin and began to lift his shirt up from his body. His skin covered in sweat from recent training, her sight trailed down to the soiled bandages. "What made you think training was a good idea when your wounds could've reopened?"
Her question was met with minor grunts as she probed him further, taking a small knife and cutting the old bandages off. Luckily, he wasn't bleeding anymore, otherwise she would've sent for a healer. Exchanging the knife for a rag, she dipped it in the basin and rung it out, and then began cleaning him up. Her touch was gentle near his wounds, wiping away sweat and dirt. As she migrated higher her posture straightened, becoming eye-level with Thorin as she continued.
His tune quickly changed, observing her carefully with great interest now that she was focused on one task. They exchanged glances, her hand losing momentum as the rag trailed down his chest before she broke away from his stare.
"Why do I get the impression you're doing this to escape the council?" She asked curiously, changing the subject.
"Is it wrong to see you beyond night?" He mused, hoping for more contact as he reached for her waist.
"No, but others might get the wrong idea of your intentions when they find you back here." She swatted his hand away from her body. "Word will spread, Thorin."
"Let them spread. You are now my wife and I can seek your company any time I wish. As for the council, Dain returned to the Iron Hills this morning. Everyone has their tasks so there was no harm to pay you an accidental visit." Her failure to remain composed amused him to no end when they were alone. "What will they do, stop me?"
"I can. You have more responsibilities now and by Mahal, I will not be used as an excuse until you realize that error." She dipped the soiled cloth in the bin, ringing it out from excess water. "While your intentions are good, this phase will pass and your focus will go back to your duties."
"You make it sound as if I do not want to run my kingdom." He questioned her, his face dropping to a frown. "Surely there is no harm in seeking your company on occasion even if this time was by chance?"
Éla sighed. She knew he was doing this for her sake, trying his best to keep her happy but if it dragged on too long, their efforts would be in vain. "This is all still very new for us both. As much as I would love to spend every waking moment with you, I can't. Your people need their king too."
"Your understanding is flattering, Éla."
"It's not that." She met him head on, a conjuring of sympathetic understanding, her hand resting on his arm. "There's no need to check in on me. I would be happy knowing you are where you belong. Rule without the worry of my wellness plaguing you every moment of the day. We'll have our time."
"Here I hoped my surprise visit would be welcomed." Thorin failed to sound upset as Éla's efforts to keep their interaction serious crumbled at the forefront amidst their playful charade.
"I'm serious, Thorin."
"Does further securing the line of Durin fall under that rule?" He tried edging her on with a careless touch to her arm as he shifted in place under her nonverbal direction. "As my wife, no one would question anything."
"And as your wife, I have the power to cut off your balls if it'll set you straight." She pushed an accused finger into his chest, a poor show of authority on her part despite the comical claim to ridicule him.
"You are welcome to try, amrâlimê." Thorin bellowed a deep chuckle as he grabbed her wrists and moved them up to his shoulders as he then pulled her in by the waist, holding her close to him. "Though, I imagine you'd regret that."
That sent a wave of excitement through her. Éla dropped her arms loosely around his neck, looking down into his smug expression. A small part told her to shake off the feeling yet all attempts to ignore his straightened stature, the masculine dominance of a king emitting a conjugal love proved far more enticing than she anticipated as he bore into her all the same. His musky scent filled her nose and his delicate yet firm hold on her back practically begged him to lock the door. Being close to him brought out a peaceful comfort and the thought turned over in her mind, wondering if he felt the same.
Éla cupped his face with both hands, studying his soft stare. Perhaps he was doing her a favor sneaking about. Was this his way of showing affection amidst the chaos? Pushing a stray strand of hair from his face she followed his brow down towards his nose, trailing a finger over his lips down to his bearded chin, stopping to play with the coarse hair.
"Are you that confident I would regret such a decision?" The question was both a threat and a ruse to throw him off his little game. She removed herself from his embrace, pulling away as rags were set aside.
She was met with a low chuckled as he leaned forward, whispering in her ear. "I have no doubt."
Oh how he was driving her mad with so many emotions at once. She half expected him to literally touch her again, lock the door and stay but he pulled away instead, sitting back clearly pleased with himself that he left her breathless by doing nothing.
"You will always be a welcome distraction." He stood, grabbing and pulling a shirt over his head and layering back up in his regal attire as she watched.
Oh he was going to suffer for that. She'd make sure of it.
000
Their nights turned into routine like before. The same few days of Thorin not following anyone's advice over his health unless he got what he sought. It was a game they both played, though his surprise was downplayed when his wife chose to meet him halfway.
So here they were, four days into marriage and barely two words were spoken during their little regime.
Éla hummed a tune that evening as she tended to Thorin's wounds. Again. Keeping it clean with water mixed with herbs. As she tended to his lower abdomen, Thorin began to play coy, smelling the familiar scent of her hair, turning over silver binds that held her braids together without much thought.
Wringing a rag from the water basin, she gently stroked the soft material from his neck down to his naval, removing any dirt and dried blood that may have accumulated throughout the day which could cause infection. Thorin allowed her to perform the minuscule task in peace, save for her tranquil humming, threatening to cast a spell of slumber over the dwarf king.
Words had been scarce since their evening of celebration. Éla offered to suggest they get to know each other again from the beginning. So much pain and loss had been dealt that the two weren't quite sure where to begin. Since Thorin couldn't tend to his own wounds properly, truth be told, he could...he simply allowed Éla's offer to take up the task in hopes of reconciliation. Though she wasn't easily fooled by his antics that week.
It was still strange to think of Thorin as her husband, and she, his wife.
Every so often, she'd glimpse at the dwarf sitting patiently before her, stripped of regal attire with a tired yet fierce love burning in his eyes. It was enough to make her blush from simpler memories. There was much to atone for, and yet hope did not seem so far off. It took some time, but Éla found herself finding peace in these few stolen moments of solitude. The cover of night where the hustle and bustle throughout the mountain died down seemed to be the only time for the two to escape from prying eyes.
The healers did their job well in keeping Thorin alive during those early weeks post-battle. A nasty scar will replace his doctored injury but that hadn't stopped him these last few days tackling his duties head-on. Between ruling and light sparing, much to his wife's quizzing reaction, he was on the mend.
Éla grabbed a larger cloth, setting to work as she pat Thorin dry, careful not to cause harm around his wounds. Her touch delicate like tuning fine gems and yet light as a feather. It sent Thorin's heart racing like a river of gold. Every night was the same, and every night neither barely spoke. This was as far as they could go. He wished nothing more than to lie with her but they could not, for she too required mending. Having her presence by his side once more was enough for the time being.
"You stopped."
Éla met Thorin's tired stare, a smirk plastered warmly on his features. "It was a lovely tune."
"I didn't know you liked it so much." She said, returning the smile. The whispered hum resumed.
"Your wounds are healing nicely." Éla mused, studying the king's reaction as she gently poked him, receiving a grunt in return. "Although it would be unwise to continue to spar in your current condition."
Her scolding was a gentle warning. "I would very much like to have my king alive for many years to come. Fully healed would be best."
Thorin chuckled by her defense. "Would you have me grow fat with age?"
Éla pondered the idea humorously as she reached up to move a few strands of hair away from his face. "Well, you are getting a bit greyer."
"And you are as beautiful as the day before." His retort making her blush like a young maiden.
A low chuckled escaped him. "It would seem I still have an effect on you."
"Oh? Which might that be?" She mused, composure failing to hide the increased burning tint on her cheeks, all while enjoying the moment. His gentle acts were reminiscent of their time alone in Esgaroth, something of a tender memory that proved pure and soothing to the soul.
When her question went unanswered, Éla shifted focus after applying new bandages to his wounds. His playful attitude was a nice change of pace as she wrapped the cloth around his torso, moving closer with each pass like a hammer toward an anvil, only to retreat again and again. Thorin still remained silent albeit his smirk softened as he watched her calculated attempts not to make eye contact.
He let one of her braids fall from his entangled fingers, running through more loose strands, its waves mimicking calm waters as he separated them, blue orbs never faltering their attention away from her scrunched features concentrated on the task at hand.
Leaving Thorin to redress himself in a loose tunic for the evening, Éla gathered each medicinal item, placing it in the small used basin and moving it to another table. She would return it to the healing room to be cleansed later. For now, heightened curiosity begged attention when Thorin shifted in his chair.
The simple act excited her for he was most devious in showing affection behind closed doors when he wanted to. It was a means to distract her from her purpose and yet she welcomed every bit of it. Eyes locked on the other, Thorin reaching to remove the cloth from her hands, then leaned closer from his seat. Her breath hitched by his sudden proximity, a daring move since their binding as he snaked an arm around her waist watching every reaction caused by his touch for he did not want her to feel unsafe. Thorin knew what she desired for he desired the same. He had to be sure, evading any form of affection until an opportunity was as clear as day. He eyed her but a moment for any sign of disapproval.
When there was none, he closed what space remained between them as his mouth met hers with such gentleness, she nearly pulled away in surprise. Their longing for one another drew them closer as she ran a hand up his bare chest towards his neck, fingers gliding down through his thickened beard. The act sent fire to his skin in its wake, inhaling sharply as he deepened the kiss. A brief moment lingered before they broke away for air, Thorin resting his forehead to hers, content to remain still in her presence.
Éla exhaled a shaky breath, a smile contradicting the act. Opening her eyes, she sought out what was removed, returning to her partner. Thorin hummed in approval when she leaned forward by her own accord. Lips gently brushing against his as he moved away, chuckling as she whimpered from his sudden ruse.
Dark eyes pleaded under firelight as Thorin cupped her face with both hands, engraving her features into memory. His heart weighed down by a burning love rekindled, he wished nothing more than to have his wife remain by his side until the end of days.
Éla reached up and took a hand in hers, gently bringing it down above her heart holding it, awakening Thorin from his daze to which he blinked out of his reverie upon an eager plea for contact. He obliged with a gentle stroke from his free hand, lifting her chin to meet his, watching his wife's anticipation for the next act as he rose from his perch.
Out of all the days they shared in simple comforts of home in Erebor, Thorin wished he had acted sooner since their union. To see her submissive under his touch ignited his very soul. It made him feel alive.
Heart pounding, Éla squeezed Thorin's hand tighter in anticipation as he leaned in again, hovering close enough to feel hot breath on skin, teasing her patience no matter how commemorative, as Thorin's beard barely brushed against her face. She eagerly waited as an excited heart heaved, yearning with each breath stolen every second he did not give her what she had hoped would come to pass.
He was toying with her and made no attempts to hide it.
Éla picked up on his scheme and released her hold on his hand. If he wished to tease her, then she would do the same, for two could play that game.
Fingers ghosted across Thorin's skin as she moved into him slowly, careful not to press on his bandages. The sudden change in his breath was enough revenge for her as she mapped over muscle, following the hairs on his chest, every battle scar, and every beat of his heart beneath her touch. Satisfied, she attempted to lean in, wanting nothing more than to feel him against her again as she agonizingly continued to trace a slow path down through the hardened muscle of his abdomen.
"I cannot have you get too excited yet." Thorin stopped her actions, feeling the recoil his sudden movement had caused. Ending her play, he caved in to physical demands, not wishing to remain separated for so long as he finally, finally, kissed her a second time. Hunger consumed him as he brought her close. Éla melted into his embrace, never wanting to be separated again.
All too soon, they parted. They stood a short while, labored breathing filling wordless phrases, listening to the calm sounds around them. Moving back towards a lounge chair, they settled down by the fire, enjoying the still company of the other as the night aged on.
Amrâlimê – 'my love'