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On the bell's third strike
A/N: For the angels that are overlooking this story:
Thank you Julie-I-am for everything you have done for this story.
Thank you StephCalvino for helping me create it by sharing your immense wisdom.
Four days later Thorin was walking thoughtfully towards the entrance. This afternoon the incoming immigration flow had taken a rather grim turn. Instead of families relocating, it was full of wounded people that carried their dead to be buried in the Lonely Mountain. Thorin ordered Eilin to go back to his rooms and rest, even though she insisted to remain and help him out. She looked too pale, too exhausted and too preoccupied for his tastes. In the end, when she realised that in the stead of her Thorin now stood the authoritative King, she relented and went to sleep in his rooms.
Thorin stood at the gates overlooking the grim parade of the dead. He was seething with nervousness which was caused not only from his worry about Eilin's health that seemed to be slowly deteriorating, but also from the bold declaration he made about their situation in front of his court. Everybody knew now that he intended to wed her. His courageous move that evening at the feast declared openly that there was no turning back for him. He has found his one. Such a formal announcement should have had some kind of a reaction. On the contrary none of the lords spoke to him about his formal conduct towards Eilin, so he was left alone in silent limbo. Something that was making him rather tense, bringing up the caustic monarch in him towards everyone except Eilin, his immediate family and close friends.
As a reaction to this deliberate -or not- limbo he also secluded himself. Brooding in his office, his grandfather's library, Eilin's rooms or his own, the vaults and the top most rampart. It was this afternoon's grim events that drew him out of his usual isolation and made him approach the entrance and his people that needed his presence to give them courage.
"Good evening my lord. You are a difficult man to talk to, which is ironic since you are the King of this golden city," Durar the lord of Linnar's folk came up next to him.
Thorin crossed his arms and observed the wounded families with a deep frown. "Good evening. It's difficult to be everywhere and for everyone all the time. Tell me what I can do for you my dear man."
"Maybe I should wait to address my issues until you've had your report. Dain is coming up and seems rather grim," Durar frowned and crossed his arms likewise, subconsciously mimicking the King.
Thorin shook his head at Dain, "Things look very bad."
His large cousin nodded, "there is a massacre going on at Ered Mithrin. The remaining underground cities are being ripped to threads. You see few survivors here. Most didn't make it. This is our comeuppance for reclaiming Erebor. We need to act fast, people are dying up there. They are the last of our kin. We need to support them."
Thorin's brow clouded. He looked at his nephew. "Fili take care of all your business in the city. You march with your uncle at break of dawn. We have enough men to gather a brigade, correct?"
Dain nodded, "enough to gather more than one."
Durar intervened. "Use my thousand selected if you wish."
Thorin looked at him, "that would be most welcome. Thank you."
"Anything to help the Mountain King" -Durar said with a proud smile- "My men belong to the Lonely Mountain now. They are the Firebeard contribution to your army my lord. Use them and abuse them to your will."
"Then you shall command them," Thorin said gracefully.
Durar smiled widely. "Oh, haven't had a good fight with Orcs in years. I'd love that!"
Thorin pursed his lips and looked at a young dame who was wailing above an elder dwarf that looked unconscious. Her face was barely seen under all the dirt and blood. Several people had gathered around them to offer some help.
Thorin uncrossed his arms and was the first one of the nobility that was standing by the entrance to break through the shocked circle of bystanders and approach the elder. Durar was right behind him. He came down to one knee and cupped the forehead of the elder. "Is he wounded or ill?" He asked the young dame.
She shook her head. "He is very old my lord. He has a weak heart."
"We need to kill every Orc in these mountain ranges. I suggest that we don't stop at Ered Mithrin. We can organise an attack at Mount Gundubad. Take back the ancient ancestral homeland of the Longbeards from this filth." -Durar said angrily- "Look at how much our kin is suffering."
"We don't have enough men to make such a heavy retaliation. We need to think prudently. Are you ready to sacrifice all your men for a lost cause?" Thorin caressed the elder's hair back and placed his fingers on his neck to feel his heart. It was beating erratically.
Durar crossed his arms, "Is it a lost cause?"
"It is unfortunately. These mountains are crawling with orcs. They are coming out of every crevice like spiders. We cannot reclaim them. Not yet at least." Thorin said thoughtfully.
"If that's said by the man that reclaimed Erebor, it should be enough for you," Dain raised his brow wisely.
Durar pressed his lips dismissively.
The young girl looked up shocked. "Are you the King, my Lord?" She muttered.
Thorin looked at her silently for a few moments. Then he placed his arms under the old man and picked him up. "Dain notify Oin." His cousin proceeded them quickly no matter his fatigue.
When they arrived at the infirmary, he placed the old man on a bed. His daughter quickly came at his side. "Daddy? Open up your eyes daddy, please! We arrived safely at Erebor. We are safe inside the Lonely Mountain. The place you always dreamed of returning to, after the flying beast drove you and mommy away. Please open up your eyes and look at me" -she was sobbing so hard that Thorin's eyes filled with sadness. Then suddenly she reached up and grasped his hand. She brought it onto her father's chest- "feel this? It's not my hand. It's the hand of the Mountain King. Open up your eyes daddy and look at him. He's standing above you."
The man's eyes fluttered and a soft whisper came out of his mouth. "King Thror…"
Thorin winced and closed his eyes, but he didn't remove his hand. He felt the stab of those words deep into his heart.
His daughter shook her head. "King Thror is dead daddy." -She looked up at Thorin beseechingly- "Forgive him, his memory is not as it used to be. He is very old."
Thorin drew his hand back gently. "Don't worry." The young woman's hands fell empty on her father's skeletal chest.
That is when Oin arrived and Thorin looked up. "Check on him. His heartbeat is erratic."
Oin pulled up the man's tunic and placed his hearing cone on his chest. "Damned thing is becoming useless," he muttered and threw it on the floor. Then he placed his fingers and tried to find the pulse.
"Oin will take care of your father. I wish you a speedy recovery." He said quietly, all the time keeping his eyes on the thin face of this old man that had named him Thror. Why couldn't he get rid of the ghosts of his past? Even this stranger had to remind him that he was still walking on Thror's footsteps, even though he'd been trying hard to cut all ties to them.
She reached up and pulled his hand on her lips. "Thank you my Lord," she kissed it.
He pulled his hand away again. "Everything will be alright." He told her those words in order to believe them himself.
That is when the old man opened up his eyes slightly and gazed at him. "I am sorry I named you Thror my King."
Thorin smiled. "Why ask forgiveness? King Thror was my family."
The old man's eyes looked glazed and he was having a hard time focusing on the King. "You are Thrain's oldest son aren't you? Thorin the second?"
Thorin nodded.
"So many years have passed since I last saw you and you've changed. Forgive me." The old man whispered.
Thorin patted the man's shoulder. "Nothing to forgive. Now rest."
He left with Durar by his side. When they were out at the long corridor the Firebeard Lord was the first one to speak, as Thorin was tormented by the ghouls that this old man had awoken in his heart. The one's that never truly went away no matter how hard he tried at times.
"What I just saw is worth every pledge to your kingship I can offer!"
Thorin paused and looked down at him, "what?"
Durar raised his brow. "The empathy with which you approached this poor soul is enough for me to understand what kind of a King you are. I need nothing more than that."
Thorin's eyebrows flexed in confusion.
Durar smiled. "I am one of the remaining five and I will not lie to you. Three of them are very set against you, but not me or the Lord of the Broadbeams. He's leaning towards you likewise. He was impressed by how courageously you declared your love for your One at the dinner. You see his wife was a cleaner and he was the only one from his family that chose to marry against the strict rules of ranking."
"I was not aware." Thorin said solemnly.
"Ámundur is a fierce commander and a loyal man. Loyal to the bone. What you did for your lady gripped his heart, but don't ever tell him I said so. He never wants to talk about his private matters." Durar warned.
Thorin smiled.
"I am sure you've got his allegiance and after what I saw today, you've got mine." The man straightened up proudly.
"Thank you. Your words mean a lot during this time of uncertainty." Thorin replied calmly.
"I didn't come here to pledge my sword under the King's gem. I care more about who sits under it. I knew your fierce father and your honourable grandfather. I wanted to see things for myself concerning your rule. You didn't disappoint me. Your personal relationships did concern me deeply before you announced publicly your honourable intentions towards the girl, but after your declared your wish to wed her and especially after what I saw today, there is no doubt in my mind that no one else would be more suitable to unite the seven families under his rule!" Durar grinned.
Thorin eyes became sadly thoughtful. "It will be a difficult task, but I do appreciate your support more than words can say."
Durar pressed his lips tightly. "The Ironfists and the Stiffbeards are aligning with the Blacklocks. It won't be easy to convince them my lord. I speak of the truth. I have partaken in many conversations with them. They will not accept your One as their Queen."
Thorin cast his gaze at the end of the corridor that led to the throne room. "I know my friend."
Durar's brows played nervously. "I don't want this amazing opportunity to unite our kingdoms go to waste. Not now that we have the chance to do this under such a unique ruler like yourself."
"Be certain that I will not give up on the effort to achieve this honourable cause under the name of the Longbeards." Thorin rejoined quietly.
Durar bowed. "Thank you for giving our people hope my King. My sword is yours."
Thorin clasped the formidable Lord's shoulder and squeezed. "Go before you see me break. I do not wish that."
Durar's eyes fixed on him solemnly. "I will go and prepare my men for the march my King."
Thorin inclined his head majestically and remained in the middle of the corridor like a statue for a long time before deciding to go to the throne room. He mustered up his courage and walked upon the long bridge that led to his throne, feeling more emboldened than ever to face the ghouls of his past, under the encouraging words of Durar. The real Thorin had taken to his side four out of the seven lords and that allowed him look at the rebuild throne with a new ray of hope.
The feeling lasted very little though. When his eyes lifted up to the Arkenstone, he felt every single inch of bravery collapsing under the heavy history that burdened his shoulders. Instantly everything he had accomplished up to that point on his own, either in the Blue Mountains or here came crumbling down under the unspoken images of the past that woke up violently.
He crossed his arms protectively in front of his chest and caressed his shoulders. A gesture way too vulnerable for his personality, but he didn't even know that he was doing it. Just standing there in front of the accursed Arkenstone that shown brightly above the restored throne was enough to undo him. The King's gem was attacking his true self, intending to kill him and bring back the brooding Mountain King his father had shaped him up to be. The one that scared so much Eilin, but also himself.
The more he stood immovable in front of the throne the more he thought he could see shadows at the edge of his eyesight. As if the ghost of his grandfather decided to materialise on top of the throne in the same dull stance posture he used to take when someone was informing him that they hadn't found any Mithril veins recently. The proud stature of his father was standing on the left side of the throne. As for the side that belonged to the commander...that was empty.
No shadows formed there, because he was standing in front of the throne now trying to decide if he wanted to ever sit on it. Would this throne accept the King he truly was or would it reject him to the fiery pits of his own Kingdom? Near the depths where the mountain burned hot enough to melt the strongest metal? When his eyes tried to focus at the shadow of his father it evaporated into nothingness and his grandfather's vague shape reappeared on the throne. When he concentrated there, his grandfather dispersed into thin air.
Thorin felt his head hurting and his heart throbbing by the burden that this throne was dropping onto his shoulders once more. Especially now that he had this amazing woman next to him. If he sat on Erebor's throne would Eilin lose the Thorin she loved? Would the Mountain King return with a vengeance and remain for everybody around him, suffocating his true self under the weight of all this responsibility?
This was his greatest fear, what he dreaded the most. The reason he rarely sat on it. The reason he didn't want to touch the Arkenstone or wear that damned Raven Crown. For another King all this would have meant nothing, but after all the sacrifices and blood curling pain he had been through for this Kingdom, he was not able to see this coveted throne like any other King.
He rubbed his temples firmly wanting to eliminate the images of the past and the pain that pulsated at his forehead. He gritted his teeth and was about to curse both the ghosts and himself to the very fires of Mount Doom, when the quiet voice of Balin drew him out of his nightmares.
"Are you alright laddie?"
Thorin turned around sharply and almost lost his footing. He gazed down at Balin feeling totally lost.
Balin frowned and took hold of his bicep, "for heavens' sake you look like death."
Thorin pulled his arm free and closed his eyes. He took a couple of steps back in order to regain his composure and personal space. "I am alright. You just scared me."
"Says the man that never gets scared. What's wrong Thorin?" Balin came close to him again. Denying him the need for distance.
"I have a blinding headache. What are you doing here?" His voice was hoarse.
Balin gave him a guarded look. "Came to deliver a message that a maiden brought for you."
"Fine, give it."
Balin hesitated as he drew a paper from his pocket.
"What are you waiting for? Did you just scare the living daylights out of me for nothing?" The King sounded annoyed.
"I will give you the message, but bare with me for a few moments," Balin tried a more quiet approach.
Thorin retrieved his demanding hand and rubbed his forehead. "Forgive me. I am not myself today."
"You haven't been yourself since you announced to everyone your intention to marry Eilin. I would have thought that this is what you wanted the most. It should have made you feel on top of the world. Not as lost as you look now," Balin said with a distressed frown.
Thorin shook his head. "What you see before you is the result of the ghosts that hunt me day and night Balin. The one's that don't allow me to take pleasure from what I have done for Eilin and me."
Balin sighed, "are you tormented by guilt laddie?"
Thorin felt his eyes overflowing with unbidden tears and turned away. He wasn't willing to break down in front of his friend.
Balin closed his eyes in slow realisation, "you are."
"I am." He rejoined flatly.
"For Eilin?"
He shook his head angrily. "No and yes."
"You regret what you did?" Balin asked quietly.
"Never. I love her Balin. I want her to be my wife," -he wanted to add I wish her to bear my children, but bitterness overrun him and he almost chocked on his next words- "She is my one. Never doubt that."
Balin sighed deeply. "I don't doubt that son. Not anymore. Not after what I have seen."
Thorin offered him a pained look of resignation. "I feel guilt for failing my forefathers even though I know that what I did is true by my heart. How sad is that?"
"You believe Thror and Thrain wouldn't have agreed with your choice?"
"They wouldn't have agreed with any of my choices Balin. You know that. You've been trying to tell me all this time. Trying to remind me. Do you think that I have ever forgotten by any chance? I am still tormented by what happened then. Now they are standing there" -he pointed under the King's Gem- "one sitting on the throne, the other standing next to it, looking dismissively at me. They know I don't belong here anymore."
Balin frowned. "You are the only one that belongs on that throne my King, never doubt that. This torment that you are putting yourself through is unfair. Let the past go. This is your time to rule. Do it your own way and take on responsibility of your actions, like you have always done. You never failed us in the past. I vouch you won't fail us in the future."
A sad smile cracked on Thorin's lips. "I cannot rule Erebor with a woman by my side. Thrain's words."
Balin frowned deeply and felt his heart cracking. "Such unfair words. Where they spoken or imagined?"
"They were spoken and still haunt me. What happened that evening at the feast was not just me declaring my love for Eilin in front of everyone Balin. It was me choosing between the throne or her. I cannot have them both and I feel I betrayed my forefathers with my choice."
"Oh, you are killing yourself laddie." Balin's eyes filled with tears.
"No I am not. This is the first time I am not killing myself, but the dreams of my father…" Thorin gaze turned reflective.
Balin scowled, "and that pains you."
"Deeply." Thorin whispered.
"You are cutting all ties with the past." Balin continued.
Thorin nodded. "I am."
It took Balin a few moments to digest that Thorin had been camouflaging so much pain behind his everlasting structured exterior. Right now it was spilling out of him with every word. "Never doubt that you were made to sit onto that throne. You are our leader, our beloved ruler. Whether that be with Eilin by your side or not it matters little. Wether it will be under the Arkenstone or not, with the Raven Crown on your head or not. Whether you sit on that throne or not, you are the King of Erebor. The Mountain King we are all proud to serve. Whether you unite the seven families or not, if you are tormented by the ghosts of your forefathers, or the guilt of not being the King they wanted, know this. I wouldn't serve any other King for as long as you live. I will bow to no one else as long as your heart beats. Only when it seizes will I bring my knee down for the next King and I am not the only one to feel this way."
Thorin fists tightened painfully. If Durar's loyal words had been unable to release his emotions, Balin's did so with an ease that stole his breath. He wanted to speak. He wanted to say thank you, but his throat convulsed. This was the first time since he woke up from death that he truly felt the acceptance of his dear friend and not his judgement. Balin felt his emotional breakdown and rushed to embrace him tightly. "Do you doubt my words?"
Thorin shook his head and tightened his arms around Balin. "No."
"Forgive me for ever making you feel like I was judging you. I was unable to understand how serious things were between you and this girl. Forgive me for not standing by your side like you deserve." Balin rushed to say with a broken voice before his courage failed him.
Thorin gritted his teeth against all this emotional torrent, without realising how much his body needed to get rid of it and how much he was stopping it from doing so. He pushed back and placed his white knuckled fists on his belt. "Enough with all this drivel. What about the damned message you were supposed to deliver which brought us down to this miserable conversation?"
Balin frowned confused for a few moments, before exclaiming. "Oh yes, wait..." he dug his pocket and fished up a plain scroll.
Thorin took it. "So what does it say?"
Balin pursed his lips. "I haven't read it."
Thorin frowned. "How did that escape you? You've always opened up my personal messages ever since I can remember."
"Well it is my job as your advisor to know what's going on around you all the time. Whether you tell me or not," Balin rejoined smugly.
Thorin tucked the message on the inside of his wide belt and forgot about it instantly. "So what changed this conditioning now?"
"You are intimately involved with a young lady, whom you intend to marry. Now you have personal messages that I am not interested to read, thank you very much." Balin explained offhandedly.
Thorin cleared some long silver tendrils from his sweaty brow and chuckled. "I am glad you still have some discretion after so many years of snooping around my business."
Balin embraced Thorin's shoulder with a wide smile and escorted him in friendly conversation until Thorin decided to enter Thror's study and asked Balin to call Fili. Uncle and nephew remained under locks way after the sun had set and the heavy gates locked against the snow storm that was bellowing outside. When he finally gave permission to his nephew to get some rest, the boy staggered totally dizzy out of the study only to fall onto Balin that was coming in with some refreshments.
"I was just bringing this over to you my lad," Balin said and lifted up the tray.
"I am out Balin. I can barely see straight. I need to sleep. I am marching tomorrow at the break of dawn." Fili mumbled.
Balin frowned. "Thorin is overworking you."
Fili nodded. "You can say that again. Good night, I am off before I fall asleep in front of his throne."
Balin smiled. "Go and rest lad. Goodnight."
Fili waved tiredly at him and Balin kept his eyes thoughtfully on the young man's back until he could see him no more. Then he took the refreshments to Thorin who had his head buried deep between mountains of open scrolls. He forced his King to eat and drink and then he closed the scrolls and forced him to go and get some rest. The bells were soon going to strike the first call for the night and their day had been long and tiring.
Thorin reluctantly agreed to let go of his scolls and go back to Eilin.
Upon reaching his rooms, he opened the door quietly and looked inside. The candles were out and the room quiet. He saw the bump under the covers and smiled sweetly. Taking care to shut the door silently behind him, he removed his heavy boots before attempting to walk inside. He unbuckled himself and shed his vest on the armchair. Then he kneeled down and rekindled the fire before going at the single window and drawing back the curtains. The snowstorm had become so severe that he was unable to see the valley beneath him and only the faint light of the usually blazing fires at the side of Erebor's grand entrance was visible behind that white curtain. His balcony was half buried under the snow and the small pot where Dis had planted one of Kili's flowers was hidden. He wanted to bring it in, but opening the window with this menacing blast of frozen air was out of the question. Suddenly her melodic voice broke through the silence.
"Hi handsome." She sounded so warm and cosy that his body shuddered with the desire to feel the same.
He turned around and looked at her above his shoulder. "Did I wake you?"
"I was more like snoozing, than actually sleeping. I was waiting for you impatiently. I missed you." she cooed.
He walked to her quietly and sat at the side of the bed. His hand came up and cleared some red locks from her temple. "Your cheeks are red and you look well rested."
"I am" -she smiled up at him sweetly and cupped his hand that rested briefly on her cheek- "Which cannot be said for you. You looked exhausted."
Thorin closed his eyes and bit the inside of his lower lip in order to keep himself from spilling out to her everything that was tormenting him. He didn't want to ruin the peaceful expression on her face. "Nothing a good night's rest won't fix."
She pulled him by the hand until he came down at a breathing distance from her face. "Come on, take off your clothes and get in then," she whispered. "I will lull you to sleep."
"Will you?" a soft smile appeared on his lips.
She swallowed a tight throat and her finger smoothed over his cheekbone. "Oh, yes."
His lips touched hers and his eyes instantly closed delighting at their softness. He kissed her gently, probing her mouth carefully. Wanting to relate to her his affection more than arouse her, but she had apparently different ideas. Both palms skimmed across his cheeks and her fingers caressed his pointy ears for a few moments until she heard the exhalation of pleasure that came out of his mouth. Then they tunnelled through his mane and pulled him down. She arched up to him and her mouth opened up to allow her tongue to explore him lightly. Their touches were slow and neither wanted to hurry through. His wide palm planed over her jawline and his thumb fondled the sensitive skin of her neck as his mouth reciprocated her tender attentions with the same soft exploration.
"Did you wake up in the mood for love?" he whispered and his lips curled up slightly.
"Mmmm...yes," she arched up to him, flushing her chest against his.
He exhaled on her open lips and frowned. "What are you wearing?" -he reached up and traced the lapels of her tunic for a few moments before letting his fingers plane on the side of her smooth neck- "Is this my tunic?"
She blushed and one of her hands surfaced out of his thick hair and planed down his arm, past his chest and stomach until it found the edge of his tunic. She took a handful of it and pulled it up. "Yes it's yours, do you mind?"
"No, but why did you wear it?" he rejoined and assisted her as she was trying to get him off his clothing.
The moment she saw his naked body, her palms sailed on it relishing on the tightness of his muscles under his soft skin. "It smells like home. Your scent comforts me. If you are not here, I'll use the next best thing and this tunic was perfect." Her voice tickled his spine.
He swallowed hard. "What are you wearing under it?"
Her small hands circled around his waist and found the strings of his trousers. "Absolutely nothing my love."
He looked at her feeling tackled down by this small woman. A few gentle kisses and her words about his scent were enough to get him ready for her. So ready that he felt painfully uncomfortable as she gave him a hungry look that twisted his stomach into tight knots. His fingers twirled through her long hair and caressed her head as he leaned down to kiss her again. This time his kiss had such a fiery undertone of longing that it made her gasp in desperate need for more air. His other hand slid down her chest and caressed the peak of her breast as his tongue twisted in a dance of heat around hers. When he felt it hardening and her breath becoming sharper he moved his hand to the hem of her tunic and buried it underneath until he could smooth his rough palm on her naked taut peak. She hissed and in reply his palm took a handful of her firm breast and pressed gently. Each knead on it made his stomach twist and the bulge at the front of his trousers become painful, especially since her hands were struggling to open up the strings and free him. He stopped her short by pulling the tunic over her head and revealing her warm naked body. The longing to pull the blanket up and bury himself between her legs was so strong that he heaved.
"Don't look at me like that," he whispered, unable to stop himself.
She smiled coyly. "You feel under scrutiny my lord?"
"I feel under severe heat, which borders to uncomfortable," he raised his brow.
"That is a serious advantage for both of us at this moment," she smirked.
"Are you even okay to try this tonight?" he said with a tone of care that warmed up her heart.
"I won't be able to rest until I have you." Her soft hands skimmed up to his stomach and her fingers drew a few slow circles as he lowered himself and gave her a gentle peck which she instantly reciprocated by opening her mouth and thrusting her tongue in him passionately. He tore himself away from her mouth long enough to come down to her breast and offer it the wet attention she was seeking all afternoon. When his mouth engulfed it her hands forgot about the task of freeing him and grabbed his shoulders for support. Her nails came out and dug onto his skin with fiery approval. He moved to her other breast as his hand got buried between her thighs and found her womanhood. Her lips opened up and sucked greedily on his clavicle as she cooed him on with soft words of love. When his fingers passed through her folds and found her wet heat welcoming him, her teeth replaced her lips and she took a large bite out of him before whispering. "I don't want any foreplay tonight Thorin. I need you." Her hands remembered their original job and came down to pull his trousers open. She burrowed her small fingers through the opening and enclosed his virility in her hungry palms feeling it pulsate and he sighed in satisfaction.
Her mouth watered with the need for him. She didn't know how overwhelming her arousal could become because of her pregnancy and she didn't know how to handle her hunger for him at that moment. The way her body reacted to him was profound. Her natural need for this man got so enhanced by her pregnancy that her want was dripping down the inside of her thighs as he was working her up softly. This night she didn't want him buried between her thighs, lapping her to submission. She didn't want to go down on him in order to see his face break into a thousand pieces of ecstasy as she had done several times after she took up the courage. She wanted him to fill her up and bring her over as only he knew how. The pain of her internal muscles became so severe that she quivered.
"Come here." She whispered feeling out of breath already and released his arousal long enough to pull him under the covers. He settled between her legs without even taking off his trousers and she pulled the blanket over him. She desired to feel his body and the quilt engulfing her with their warmth. His length poked the inside of her thigh as his hand continued it's torment and his mouth disengaged her breasts in order to take over her tender neck.
She was trembling with anticipation and counted internally as images of their baby, of how much she loved him and how much she wanted him overlapped each other. Each thought was feeding her carnal need more and more. When finally he pulled his hand away from her womanhood she whimpered in objection, but he didn't allow her the time to feel empty at all. His erection spread her open and filled her up so deeply that every sound seized and every thought in her mind merged into a single beam of light.
She flushed her cheek onto his and her nails clawed his biceps making sure that he wasn't going to go anywhere but deeper inside her. He loved her so sensually slow that she was left praying that he'd never stop from the first moment that he began moving. Her eyes teared up at the thought that the man who was assisting her body to climb up the ladder of ecstasy was the father of her baby. His solid frame pinned her against the mattress, as his hips coaxed her most sensitive spot to the point of obedience and her mind to the point of oblivion. Even though she tried to make him pick up speed he persisted to drive in her with the same tormentingly slow passion. Making her lose track of time and space. The sweet spot he was hitting inside with each plunge was sucking all the air out of her lungs and it was only when he drew back out that she was allowed to inhale another breath of life.
He prevailed over her patiently, never wavering from that torturously slow rhythm even though her hands had burrowed under his trousers and had cupped his buttocks in order to force him to go faster. His lips traced ever inch of her jawline and skimmed past her neck and no matter how much she writhed and arched and twisted under him he didn't go faster. Instead he dove deeper, waking up lustful moans from her chest. With ceaseless endurance against her tries to stimulate him to a breaking point he led both her and himself past the point of no return. Her body tightened under him once more ready to give up everything for him, only this time her undoing felt that it was also going to stop her heart by it's intensity exactly because the leisurely pace with which he was enticing the orgasm out of her, had build up her arousal to unbearable heights.
She wrapped her arms behind his neck and drew him down to her until their lips crashed. Then she exhaled sharply. "Faster, please."
His breath was clashing against hers with the same intensity. "Slower." He whispered and captured her bottom lip between his teeth.
The moan that came out of her mouth made him squeeze his eyes tight and his knuckles turned white around her buttocks as he tried to keep her hips steady. "This is pure torture..." She mumbled and tears sprang out of her closed eyelids. As if there was a lake contained behind them all her life ready to be released under this man's extraordinary affection. She wanted to speak to him about the intensity of her feelings but only a broken whisper with his name came out as another deep thrust made her eyes blur and her heart thud erratically under her chest.
His hand wrapped around her small one firmly and led her palm to the centre of his chest. "The sweetest torture of my life." His rich voice barely penetrated her clogged ears and her fingers curled protectively around his skin. She felt his galloping heartbeat and suddenly her hand became the most sensitive part of her body counting his every pulse. Another lunge and her sweet spot made her eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth drop open. He pulled back and she inhaled deeply. When he thrust in her again she erupted with such intensity that she saw stars in her eyes as her body shook hard under the quake he had triggered in her. He didn't stop to delight in her pleasure like he usually did and continue this time. Her explosion grabbed him by the lapels and drew him over the edge with her. His heavy groan of release was barely heard under her loud cries of pure ecstasy.
She still counted his heartbeats as he came down from the heavens grinding desperately in her. Longing to shed every single ounce of need into her pulsating heat. She counted inwards to calm her own irregular heartbeat, still uncertain that she was going to survive this euphoria he offered her this evening. Her arms and legs were painfully wrapped around him long after her body stopped shaking. Long after she regained partial control of her muscles and minimal control of her mind. Never mind her voice. When that came out it sounded strange. "I love you."
"I love too. Are you alright?" he pulled back and looked down at her.
She opened up her eyelids. When his face came into focus her heart fluttered and her stomach bubbled up. "Oh Eru, I love you so much," she whispered, not even having heard his question.
His fingers came up to clear the sweaty hair from her forehead. "Me too my beautiful Eilin. Never doubt that."
"I have so much I want to share with you," her fingers came up to to trace his mouth.
A small shadow of doubt passed from his brow, but she didn't see it. "Tell me. You can tell me anything."
"Be patient with me, please," she begged and offered him a wholehearted smile.
"I will be as patient as you need me, but the last couple of weeks there has been a shadow of secrecy lingering between us and I worry. It is not good to keep secrets from each other," he sounded affectionally scolding.
"I am not keeping secrets from you my love. I need to feel ready to speak about my most intimate thoughts." She whispered without realising that as she was relaxing under him, he was tensing and he had no one to comfort him back. Her words were anything but soothing.
He placed a soft kiss at the side of her temple. "Take your time my precious."
She snuggled in his arms and closed her eyes. "I feel tired does that sound strange?"
He gave her a guarded look. "Considering you slept most of the day, I'd say yes. Are you sure you are not falling ill again?"
She shook her head. "Not at all. I feel on top of the world!"
"Then sleep and I shall remain guard." His voice fell as he kissed the top of her head.
She rubbed her cheek on his lower neck and sleep overtook her quickly. He remained thoughtful above her, his fingers twisting gently through her hair for a long time. When he decided to abandon their bed in order to get a cup of water his foot stepped on something that made him look down. He observed the scroll Balin gave him. The one he had tucked onto his belt and completely forgot about. He picked it up and came close to the fire. He rested on his shins and unfolded it. As he read the few sentences on it a shadow of doubt covered his brow and he looked up sharply at the bed where Eilin was sleeping safely. Then he looked back down at the message.
"My King,
I have some important information to share about your One. If you want to learn the truth about her meet me tonight at the forest of the River Running, at the three entwined barks. When the bell strikes the third and final call for the night I will be there.
A loyal servant of your majesty."
When he reread the few lines he looked up and the shadow of doubt slowly transformed into a cloud of darkness. A tentacle of fear hooked on his stomach. Who would want to share information about Eilin with him? Maybe this was someone toying with them after Thorin's official declaration that he intended to wed this woman. He had been expecting some sort of retaliation, so this message shouldn't have shocked him as much as it did.
His initial reaction was to crumble it between his fingers and throw it to the fire. It singed a little, but then rolled to the grating away from the blazing heat and remained there relatively unharmed. He decided to ignored it and sat on the armchair. Then he tried to settle down the doubts that Eilin's secrecy had been causing him, which combined now with this unexpected message had grown tenfold. His heart was going back and forth, between his certainty that Eilin's secrecy held nothing harmful behind it and that this message was nonsense, to the doubts that returned again and again to eat him up from the inside out.
Was her secrecy and this message connected? Maybe he was becoming crazy about all this or maybe not, but the more he sat on that armchair trying to stop his hands from fidgeting around his water mug the more nervous he became. When the bell chimed the second call of the night he was convinced that all this was a figment of his imagination. That it meant nothing. He stood up intending to go back to bed and forget the singed scroll, but before even taking one step towards her, he stopped and looked down at it. The hook of fear on his stomach pulled him sharply making him wince. He stood frozen wavering between the bed and the fire hearth for a long time. When the bell chimed the final call for the night, he had already put on his boots, tunic and vest and was holding the scroll tightly between his fingers.
He gave one last anxious look towards the bed and closed the door quietly behind him.
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