Part 2: Chapter 13: Where Racing Clouds Were Torn and Rent

Sleep. Blast it. Rest never came.

Thorin would catch himself searching for Sona––in Nai'adâl––and wake, jarred, unrested, to turn away from looking at her, curled close to the little Bean.

––At least no further sorcerous attacks came from the vile ones, pairing their evil talents.

The day neared when they must leave the Bear Man's lodgings, and yet––

Readiness eluded him, as though fatigue were mud to slow his steps.

Today––while she watched––Dwalin managed to knock him off his feet. Three times.

He knew better.

And Thorin couldn't get his body to work like it should. Back on his feet, facing Dwalin laughing, Thorin readied to continue, in spite of the pull in his muscles.

Dwalin shook his head, smile fading. "We're done here."

"I'm not done."

"Today, aye, you are."

And today the Company had all assembled, with Sona among them, having seen all that.

Thorin couldn't argue. It was too much and no use at the same time. He shoved Dwalin in passing, dumped his wood in the pile and went to the water without further word.

It was no wonder Dwalin did not follow.

He was not good company, and he knew it––

I know it, because I can't stop thinking about this––this untenable situation with Sona. What am I to do? To think? Given what Chases Butterflies had said––mate––given what the Bear Man had said––my Honey––given how the Thief spent every day with me at my harp, after watching my ass every day sparring with Dwalin––and she doesn't like violence. Why would she watch, then? If not to see my ass?

Can it be, she sees me––romantically?

––my ass.

More likely Thorin just saw what he wanted to see because, fact was, Thorin was exhausted. Why do I fight Nai'adâl when they are so pleasant, and she seems to like them, too?

Why think this way? It does no good, these circles.

The creek, burbling calmly, waited. Thorin should have been here an hour ago, yet he still wanted to hit something. It was no good. The cool water reflected the morning light as he tore out of his boots, his bracers, his armor, whipping off the laces on one side of his plated brigandine, throwing down the armor over his shoulder as he slid it off and himself out of it––Off––Useless metal, and every strip of clothes beneath, removed in short order, all piled in a heap at the creek's edge.

Free of it, he knelt by his bag, digging out his oils, kept in a little wash satchel.

And then he was in the water, ohh.

Aye, the cooling quickly settled his mood, from anger to––

––Just wash––

He sponged the water over his torso, ready to dunk.

––think of nothing but the water flowing.

An empty mind was better than one full of doubts.

And he sunk in, floating below the surface till his air was spent, rising, his hair weighted by the water, pleasing streams. He got his oils out and began to wash, eyes facing the sun, away from the Bear Man's lodgings, away from thought––

He worked his fingers into his scalp, over his chest, dunking as the scent of pine and cardamom rose all about him, the washing oils another gift from Dís, soothing his aching muscles. He dunked again, staying under again until his air was gone, to rise and rinse out the excess––His mind wandered to thought––blast circumstance––as he wondered what N'amad'ê would think of the Thief.

No.

It was far too soon for any reason to wonder such things, and surely Dís would tell him exactly that.

Or maybe not. He frowned, but it wasn't unpleasant, not here, realizing he really didn't know.

He dunked one last time, lingering, enjoying that feeling of being enveloped by the water, wishing he could keep the calm his spirit seemed to find in the water.

And so he stayed in the river, in the sun, rinsing even once the need was gone.

A Bird flew out of the brush across the creek, followed by a garbled barking––the Bean woofed! the little Dog, Peanut––!

Then he heard different water falling––on the bank behind him, Arwen's bangles––

––Asti!

He straightened, turned his head to see her––to confirm––Aye! Right there on the bank! How have you startled me so?

His heart soared as it always did when she was near, and he whirled, turning so quickly he nearly lost his footing on a loose river stone, stepping back slightly to regain his balance. But how lovely she looked, poised on the bank, her wide eyes focused on his. Thorin's heart swelled, just as his surprise increased.

She stood before him, mouth open––in shock that she found him––still bathing? At seeing him so? At––

What are you doing there?

Watching me? How had he not noticed her there? How long?

He berated himself for letting his guard down, not hearing the Bean sneak upon him––Too preoccupied––too lax in tracking my surroundings––

––with you, Asti!

This was unexpected.

He hadn't been prepared––to expect this––

And yet, there she was.

Thorin found himself entirely exposed, and it wasn't for the lack of clothes he left on the bank. No, but his face, would she see his feeling there? Thorin sought cover under a careless mask, or was it carefree?

Part of him desperately wanted to smile. Another part feared.

Could he remember the water, and stay calm?

He waited, watching her watch him––

––soon he would know.

Already she exuded awkwardness, like when he spoke to her of colors among the Dwarrow––and yet now––her feet were planted.

How things had changed between us since the Elven City––

Here was something new–– As if you were hungry, and I––

No.

She swallowed, she struggled. Then her eyes dropped, to his neck, his chest, where she lingered, a slight lingering, as her eyes darted first to one side of his chest and then to the other, over his inkings––Fallatazâr'ê––following the patterns––

––I would tell you their stories, Ē'ze, one by one.

Then she tracked his body lower––over me––

You look for more of me––

Thorin's eyes followed hers as his heart rushed, and then he quickly refocused on her face, to see this–– to catch her bite her lip, staring where his body submerged, at the line of the water undulating around him at his hips.

His face tugged toward smiling, such a situation for jokes, yet he attempted to keep his face still, in stone mask, while his heart kept speed, knowing this––

––You like how I look!

Restraint was called for: there he stood entirely unclothed.

––could it mean?

But no. Liking did not mean she thought beyond looking––And if she did, wouldn't she do something? She had said she'd wanted nothing beyond close friendship.

Chases Butterflies said Sona has a Mate.

Binumral––

––Mahal.

What did it all mean?

Now she saw she couldn't see beyond the depth of water, and her brows slightly curved in ire––

You would scold the water, Asti, for hiding me.

It was all he could do to stop the laughter he felt growing, all jumbled and nerves like a small Dwarfling on Durin's Day. Only better.

Her hands fisted and her bangles sounded, adding to the river's burble, startling his Thief. And then the words flowed from her, bursting for release. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!"

He knew his smile wasn't hidden now, but he was powerless to prevent it.

"I didn't mean to!" Her skin flushed darker, for panic, or for want––

How long were you there, Thief?

"I didn't know!"

You saw me sparring, surely you saw where I headed after––

"I didn't see anything I swear!"

Now, there, my spying Thief––And I know you wanted more to see.

Her brows drew in, for worry––

––You worry for me!? No.

He lifted his arm, raising his hand for calm, and, to his additional surprise, she stilled and her words stalled. And now, even so, she looked in his eyes, with glances over him here and there while she waited. Thorin focused on the sound of the water traveling over the rocks, as grounding, and he held tight to the river stones beneath his feet, like an embrace.

She didn't say anything. Instead she listened for him, and the water passing.

How had he managed to silence her, with just a motion of his arm?

Part of him wondered why she would not turn and go, if she would not speak.

And yet he knew better, with how she looked at him.

The Thief wanted more. And she was quiet! Those two things together amazed him. And he remembered, she waited for him.

For what? "I am finishing. If you would give me a moment, we can carry on our conversation––"

Conversation? Well. What else was this––?

She stared back at him, as if his words caught up with her mind later than she heard them, while her eyes continued to clearly enjoy the view.

So sweetly ridiculous, Thorin was close to bursting with laughter.

Then her eyes widened suddenly as things caught up with her. "I––

––Asti––

"––ohhhhh."

Indeed.

Then she slammed her eyes shut and twirled to face away.

And he hurried out, now that her eyes were off him, not for fear she would see––

––she wanted to see.

But she didn't need to see the rest of him ––even if she thinks she wants to––He couldn't help it, this funny truth––

Asti––

––you liked how I look beneath it all––

––stunningly so.

He hurried wet into his trousers, his boots––

She waited while he hurried. She came for him.

Thorin wanted to know why.

He climbed into his shirt––

Mahal.

She liked him like that. But now her back was tight. He needed to hurry his ass––the ass she stared at during sparring––She looked like a frightened Doe ready to bolt––without saying what she came for––Thorin couldn't have it.

Once clothed, absent his armor still on the bank, he hurried to the point. "Now, what urgent calling brought you to interrupt my bath?" He aimed to tease her, hoping this would ease her nerves––

And to his relief, her shoulders eased.

He smiled.

And she glanced back at him, not turning yet, looking him over as if something were missing––likely, the free view.

He smiled a little more.

"I––" She turned to face him now, somehow managing to look past his smile, deeper into his face with a serious probing. "––I'm worried about you."

Thorin gripped into his boots, missing the river stones as he felt the shift in their conversation move to something far more serious.

Ah, Asti––

And then she moved–– her hand reached up and she touched his cheek, the tender spot, just where Dwalin had caught him with the wood before–– her touch like the lightest brush of a flower petal––

––you're touching me!

Oh Mahal, he could sink into that hand––

He went totally still as every part of him absorbed her touching.

She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers, a light silky touch, just barely grazing his skin. Too soon she left there, to rest her hand upon his shoulder in the manner of good friends––

He could feel the warmth of her through the cotton of his shirt.

––close friends––

––I'm warmed that you care.

And she stayed there. Her hand upon him. "You aren't sleeping––"

––You are watching me––

"And it's getting worse."

––so observant, Asti.

She asked so sweetly, though it was no question. "I know you don't want to talk to me about whatever it is––"

––Asti.

"––but please talk to someone––"

Now who would I talk to––about you?

"Balin––"

No.

"Glóin––"

No.

"Gandalf––"

Mahal NO.

"Anyone. It helps. I promise." Her hand grabbed holding to him, tighter upon his shoulder––as if she would dig her understanding into his flesh.

And I would take it––

"You can't carry all these burdens on your own––"

I don't. But some I must.

"You'll go crazy––"

Mahal–– I might.

And then she let go, and the space about him tugged at the physical memory, heating his skin––gone too soon.

He would recover it––your touch.

"I know from experience," she said, so sad, and then her head dropped, and her grief showed, and she bit her lip.

Thorin bit his own. He would not answer her, fairly certain she wouldn't notice––Not after seeing me stripped naked in the river.

But he couldn't leave her grieving. And now new freedom availed him––after you, Thief, I can help ease your grief–– He reached back to her, his hand under her chin, lifting her face so she would look at him again––touching you.

Her skin, so soft––and she responded, lifting up.

I want to sink in those big brown eyes. "Thank you for your care, Thief."

A smile returned to her features, and he let go of her chin, only to reach out to her with an invitation to hold her hand on their walk back to the lodgings of the Bear Man.

I'm your lead escort––Dennar'ê. "Now come, let us return. I'm famished––" Not only for food, Thief.

"Me too," she said.

For me, as well? Thorin smiled, his invitation open––Asti, I see it, with how you looked at me, all bare in the water.

Happily, she smiled in return to his unspoken question, settling her hand snugly in his.

And they headed back toward the lodgings, while the little Bean ran along behind, barking his own pleasure in their company.

Bombur had the midday meal prepared by now––

The Thief's voice came from the lodging, "My name is Sona Anand Jones––"

What?

I know your name, and––you're right here next to me, your hand in mine! How is your voice sounding clear across the distance, around the corner from us? Was this some sorcery, yet again? Thorin held tighter, he would not let go of Sona.

And she held tighter, too, tensing in his hand, hearing her own voice displaced so, and a horrified expression filled her whole face.

"––If you're watching this––"

––watching? What?

"––then hopefully that means I've been found."

––Mahal––I found you––I'm staring at you.

"––I'm from Ana'haim Kaleforn'ya––

––Your home country––!

"––and I left my home nine days ago––"

The fogs––You speak of long ago. Back before we met!

Sona began to run, tugging Thorin behind her––Toward her own voice––!

"––to hike and camp in Big Bear for a night."

Big Bear? The Bear Man? We've been at Beorn's nearly two weeks––

She kept a vice grip on Thorin as they ran together. Once around the bend, before the main door of the Bear Man's home, her voice––Sona's but not Sona's––came from there––!

"I'm not sure where I am now––"

––neither am I––

––but I can tell you it's not So Cal."

––so cold? Have you been cold?

Her voice grew louder, coming from where the group of his Company stood, Nori in the center of it, holding a shiny black––crystal, polished tourmaline? Obsidian? The voice came from it, this black flat, glossy object in his hand.

Thorin had seen this object among Sona's belongings.

It had always been black. But not now.

Now color, like light and paint, emanated from the center.

And now it held Sona's voice, somehow called forth by Nori––?

Nori looked back at him, his face full of guilt.

What in Durin's name?

His Spy––he held it––

Creeping and snooping––'Did you take that from her pack?' Thorin signed the question.

But Nori had already answered.

––what had he done?

/T\oSo/T\oDo/T\

Khuzdûl:

Fallatazâr'ê – His tattoos

A/N: Thank you Jenny-Wren28, for helping me achieve what we've both been waiting for––It's been a pleasure working with you again.

E