Chapter One
The Pig and Whistle
As his tired hands reached for the handle of the tavern's door and pried it open, Thorin had been met with boisterous voices, clanking tankards, and jovial conversations which erupted from the tables and stools within the Pig and Whistle establishment. No one seemed to notice the dwarf enter, much less care why one of his kind might be traveling down that way–which for him, was a good thing. So without having to hide much in the way of not drawing attention to himself, Thorin Oakenshield simply sauntered over to an empty table, exhausted from his travels. For a moment or two he enjoyed being off of his aching feet and let his tired and work hardened hands lay flat upon the table. The air that had been held within his lungs expelled a bountiful sigh of utter relief. Once he had decompressed, a pipe was pulled from a pouch at his side. As he filled the bowl and struck a match, he flagged down the bartender–who was also the owner of the Pig and Whistle–and ordered himself a pint.
The pub itself–as Thorin began to notice–was rather spacious and yet not so dimly lit as one might expect it to be. In all it was charming if not quaint and at the back in center was a roaring fire with a cauldron full of Hunter's Pot simmering over the coals. Just behind this was a staircase which led up to the rooms–for rent or hire–whose doors could be seen from the protruding balcony which jutted out overhead of the bartop. Heads of stags, bears, and boar hung in a way of decoration across the room, though it seemed there had been no rhyme or reason to their placements. This mildly irked Thorin, who was a bit of a perfectionist. He had been thinking to himself on the better placements of these trophies when the barkeep had returned and placed the dwarf's drink down in front of him, snapping Thorin from his musings.
"Might I have a plate of whatever is hot and fresh from the kitchen?" The dwarf requested after a quick but deep drink of his ale.
"Ye might have, if yer coin is good."
Such a response with all its snarkiness puzzled Thorin, who grimaced at the man before reaching into his pocket and throwing down a bit of coin. Greedily the tavern owner scooped up the metal, placing it within the safety of his apron and pursed his lips down at Thorin. Having mumbled something under his breath that the dwarf didn't catch, the man darted away back to the bar but not before hollering to the kitchen to prepare an order. As Thorin sat with his drink, it crossed his mind that he didn't like that man. There was something about him that didn't sit quite right, though the dwarf found himself not dwelling too long on it. After all, it didn't rightly matter what he thought of him, because in a few days time Thorin would be on his way never to set foot in this place ever again.
Just as the last gulp of ale went down his gullet, Thorin's meal had left the kitchen. A tray topped with half a dozen mugs and his supper, was carried by lass who had seemingly gone lost in a throng of patrons reaching for their glasses. Her appearance brought cheers from the regulars who smiled from ear to ear at the sight of her. This small creature was short in stature yet thick in build, with reddened cheeks from working in the hot kitchen environment. There was a comeliness about her, which was in stark contrast to the owner who openly sneered at the joy found when she entered the room. The pub took on a new life with the introduction of her presence. It was intriguing.
As she approached his table, the smile she had been adorning since leaving back of house only widened. And although uncomfortable may not have been the proper word to use in describing how it made Thorin feel, he certainly did not wish to seek attention. That was not something he was after. So when she placed the plate of food in front of him, tucking the tray she had been carrying under her arm, Thorin gazed at that and muttered a thank you. Politely refusing–it appeared–to look her in the eye. When he noticed she wasn't leaving, a disgruntled huff left his chest and he fiddled with his fingers, his eyes darting up at her though his body remained still and rigid. Now he was uncomfortable.
Her voice was soft; she carried a heavy brogue. "Never seen someone like you 'round here before," She said, still smiling. "Well I don't mean someone like you–I just meant, you know…"
"A dwarf, by chance?" Thorin's response was less jovial and more annoyed.
So much for going unnoticed or not bringing attention to himself. Not that he felt this barmaid was any threat, but there were ways in which he could find himself in danger readily. All it took was too much information or any information to be passed by gossip from her to anyone else. Should that happen, the wrong ears would eventually listen.
"Oh there I go again, Miss No-Manners. I'll beg your pardon and leave you to sup, Master Dwarf. Pay no mind to Nosey Nellie, unless of course you'll be needing anything, then you'll have to pay mind to catch my attention–and you can do so by calling my name… Which is Nellie– without the Nosey bit, though it's terrible really… terrible in the sense it's true–" She paused, only to bite her lip in a fit of laughter, noticing the pained look on Thorin's face. "Aye–there I went doing it again. I'll beg your pardon again Master Dwarf, and this time, I'll leave you to it." She bobbed her head and dropped into an informal curtsey, before scurrying off to tend to the other patrons.
Thorin stared after Nellie as she moved from one end of the tavern to the other. He wouldn't have believed me if I had told him what was to happen between the two of them over the course of the next three days. Then again, I doubt many of you would have either.
When deep night fell upon the tavern, its owner had left Nellie and the only other barmaid to do the dirty crockery. Their limbs as tired as they might be, pushed through the washing and the drying, and the putting away of pots, pans, pint mugs, and platters. After the last of tasks had been carried out, Violet–the other barmaid that is–yawned loudly before resting her bum against a benchtop which housed various kitchen utensils. Her eyes fluttered with tiredness, the back of one of her hands pressed to her mouth to suppress yet another yawn.
"Go on home, Vi," Nellie offered. "I'll finish up here and send the stragglers home."
Violet gave the hair under her bonnet a scratch before rubbing the palms of her hands against the pockets of her apron. With a deep breath she shook her head. "Mr. Pickthorn wouldn't be liking that, me leaving without seeing it all through. We are all but finished here anyway. Go on and tell the boys to head home, and I'll mop the floor back here."
Nellie huffed with pursed lips when she threw down her washing rag onto the table. "Alright," She pointed a finger at her friend. "But next time you're dealing with them."
Violent rolled her eyes, reaching down for the bucket of clean water and pulling the mop from the corner near the back door of the tavern. "That's fair. Now let's get a move on, I don't want to be here any later than need be."
Having hollered she agreed with her co-worker, Nellie pushed the kitchen door open, surprised to see only an elder gentleman who was a regular to be left at the bar. Coaxing the drunken patron to the front door, Nellie had to give dozens of reassurances that the Pig and Whistle would be open the following morning at nine for customers without a room. Through grunts and grumbles the old man finally stumbled off into the dark of the night. Nellie's eyes scanned the street to make certain the old fool didn't fall into a ditch somewhere off to the side. When satisfied this scenario wasn't going to play out to her fears, the young woman closed the front door and with one of two keys around a thin metal chain pulled from her pocket, she locked it. When she turned on her heels to check the tables one last time for the evening, a heavy sigh left her lungs.
There he was, that dwarf, still sitting at the same table since that afternoon–his face looking down into his glass. His expression was unreadable if not slightly tinged with a deep sadness; black and silver curls dangling drunkenly over his partially concealed features.
Just what I need, Nellie thought to herself. Well go on then Nell, talk to him.
Small footfalls clacked against the wooden floorboards as she inched closer towards the seated dwarf. "Pardon–"
Thorin's gaze gently fell on her, letting Nellie know he'd been aware of her presence the entire time; he was not so far gone into his drink as she had assumed–though no one could blame her for her assumptions. He had been there drinking since dinner.
"I didn't mean to startle you," He mumbled through his words, filling his pipe once more while staring into the low burning embers of the fire.
Having noticed the size of the flames, Nellie quickly trotted over and tended to it, ensuring it would keep burning through the night. She could have scolded Violet for not remedying it when she threw the scraps of that day's food into the hunter's pot but being so very tired herself, Nell let it go.
She stood up bracing her back, sighed and tilted her head back at the lone customer. "Don't be worried none by it, Master Dwarf. I thought you might be sleeping is all…" She waited a moment, hoping he'd recognise that the place was empty and she desperately wanted him to sod off so she could get some sleep herself. However in the flash of those few seconds, Nellie saw something in the stranger which softened her irritable state. There was no denying the pain plastered all over his features. And as in her nature and the nature of her profession–that is working in a tavern–Nellie in good conscience couldn't let the wretch drown his sorrows–however late it was–alone and without an ear to listen to his woes. So looking about her surroundings she caught sight of an ale jug and reached across a broad table to grasp it. Being half full–or half empty–Nell sloshed it around before filling the empty tankard that sat before the pipe smoking dwarf.
Thorin eyed her with a curious suspicion, carefully lifting the drink to his lips. His pipe was held securely in his hand, which rested on his thigh, leg cocked out to the side. He looked as if he might tumble over.
"Alright so what is it then?" The question snapped from her mouth, albeit more harshly than she would have liked.
Thorin on the other hand stared at her broodingly. "What?" He sighed in subtle laughter, as one might in an uncomfortable situation.
Nell rolled her eyes, her arms on the table with hands tucked under her chin. "Missus leave you? Lose a grand bet maybe? What has the likes of you sat up in this place drinking until close and yet not a peep made from you the whole evening?"
"I fail to see what business it is of yours to be asking such things."
Clicking her tongue, the waitress pulled the tankard away from Thorin; Nellie drank deeply before she spoke again, carefully. "You know not too long ago, I had nowhere to go," She paused to see if she had his attention. She had. "Came in here–much like you had today–worse for wear. Wasn't easy, getting back on my feet. Mr. Pickthorn–the owner of this place–offered me the work I do here now, toiling away… Sometimes I wonder what I'm even doing–not that I don't appreciate what he's done for me and all but sometimes I wish I had a place to call home. You understand that feeling, Master Dwarf?"
Thorin's features grew dark with unsettling distrust. "What do you know?"
With such a tone in his voice, Nellie began to feel uneasy. "I don't understand–"
Thorin grasped the woman's hand, eliciting a gasp from her. Yet before he could question her further, Violet had appeared from the kitchens.
"Nell, you alright?" Her voice held every tone of concern as her eyes carefully watched Thorin release her friend's hand. "Shall I get Mr. Pickthorn or–"
"No, I'm alright Vi–we were only talking. Go on home, I'll lock up the back before I head upstairs for the night." Nellie had done her best to sound unaffected by the dwarf's sudden actions.
Violet on the other hand, raised a brow of suspicion in Thorin's direction before curtly saying goodnight to her co-worker. When she had left, it was quiet around the pair still at the table. All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. And they stayed that way for what felt to Nell like an eternity, her guarded gaze never leaving him. In the end, it was Thorin who broke the silence, his blue eyes solemnly refusing to meet hers.
"I am sorry. You spoke of things… I thought you had knowledge of… It matters not. I am sorry."
An eyebrow was raised in confusion, though she chalked most of it up to the late hour and the copious amounts of alcohol the dwarf had consumed. In the end, our kind hearted Nellie couldn't turn just a pitiful sight such as Thorin out onto the street that evening.
"Take none of it to mind," This time it was her small hand that patted Thorin's. "Let's get you a room for the night–ah no rebuttals please–and you can pay for it in the morning. Come on now, Master Dwarf–down with the drink–follow me. I just need to get a light."
Nellie fumbled around the bar room, locating a candle in a holder. When she had found one, she had taken the short walk back to the fire. After throwing on another few logs to keep it burning, she lit the candle and turned to face Thorin, who was just standing from the table with a pack slung over his shoulder.
"Come on then, follow me." She commanded him, waiting patiently by the staircase with the candle held out to guide him safely towards her. Nellie eyed him curiously.
He was the same height as herself, though broader. There was something in the way he carried himself–as if a heavy burden lay upon his shoulders. Yet for all of this his strong and handsome features danced off of the candlelight. Nellie thought to herself he looked beautiful–kingly even. She giggled to herself at the very notion.
"What is so funny?" Thorin inquired as they climbed the staircase, then made their way down the hall.
Brushing her skirts out of the way and peering down the second hall that veered off to the right of the balcony, Nellie shook her head at him. "Just me and my silly thoughts sometimes–ah here we go!"
She stopped them both at a room door, and fumbled in her pockets for the two keys she carried with her at all times. She bobbed her head to and fro, apologizing for taking too much time in unlocking and opening the door. Yet once it had been done, she set herself busy with making up the room.
"You needn't worry yourself over all of this." Thorin whispered, feeling awkward as he placed his pack on a chair.
Nellie replied by snapping out a bedsheet and throwing cases onto the pillows. Once this was done she set about lighting a fire and candles for him; lastly she had gone to fetch hot water for the wash basin, so Thorin might freshen himself before going to bed. Having done all of this, she breathed out a heavy sigh and smiled, quite pleased with herself and her work.
"Is there anything else you might be needing before I retire? I have to go back down stairs to lock up–so it wouldn't be out of the way."
Thorin, who couldn't help but be impressed with her work ethic, had everything he needed and suppressed a small smile. "No, thank you. This will do nicely."
The young woman nodded, bid him a good night and closed the door gently behind her.
With quietness, Oakenshield sighed and then yawned as he began to remove his boots. He pushed his pack that had been sitting on the chair off to the side and slumped into it himself. Peeling off his socks, Thorin groaned with pleasure, sprawling out his toes and wriggling them. He then stood again, unlatching his belt and tossing it down upon the same chair, untucking his shirt whilst beginning to untie it. It was then the door to his room swung open.
"I forgot to give you your room key–" Nellie's voice drifted off as her eyes traveled the sight of the dwarf, disheveled in undressing. Her mouth closed slowly as her teeth bit the inside of her lip, her gaze still fixated upon him.
"Thank you," Thorin nodded at her, in all the awkwardness. His hopes of bringing her behavior to attention had failed miserably.
"Of course."
Thorin cleared his throat. "Nellie?"
"Yes?"
"Do you…do you mind?" He gestured to the situation before them.
She shook her head and smiled brightly at him. "No, not at all!"
Thorin raised a brow and genuinely chuckled at what he thought was pure audacity on her part. When Nellie had finally understood what he was getting at, her face turned beet red.
"OH–" She averted her gaze immediately and shielded her eyes with her hand. "I beg your pardon, sir. Oh how embarrassing." She looked up at him again as though she had said something to offend him. "I mean, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, clearly–you're very well built–Oh Gods Nellie, shut up!"
He was freely smiling now, watching her fumble over her compliments–however inappropriate–trying to right the situation, yet only digging herself a deeper hole.
"Why does this always happen to me? NO, I didn't mean this always happens to me, just situations like this–oh bugger it all!" Nellie's frustration only multiplied when she realized Thorin was finding the entire scenario amusing. "The keys on the stand right there, if you'll be needing it to lock up tonight. I've done enough damage for one day, so I'll be leaving you to–to uh–well I'll be leaving now. Goodnight Master Dwarf."
As she opened the door and stepped outside of it, she heard his voice from the darkened hallway say, "Thorin."
Her face reddened again. It was deeper this time. "Goodnight then, Thorin."
"Goodnight, Nosey-Nellie."
Nellie rolled her eyes at the spark of jest in his reply.
Author's Note:
I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of this little tale. I've been out of commission as of late but after writing this fanfiction, I feel well enough to finish the other's I've started. I'll upload the other chapters to this story shortly. If you feel compelled to do so, please like/follow and give a review. Most importantly loves, enjoy! Xx