Disclaimer - I, in no way whatsoever, own any of the canon characters, places, or things found in this story. All belong to Tolkien, and I make no profit.
Scratching, a warning that he was no longer alone, and he sighed into the dank, miserable air. His cell was little more than a tomb; in fact, he was certain that the catacombs that housed his ancestors were larger than the cage he presently found himself in. The only difference was the barred door, that unfortunately allowed the rodent populace in but not him out. He was also certain that Thranduil would rather see him rot here than ever be free, so maybe it was appropriate after all.
Ironic it was though, that he had never felt more alive. Somehow, with the aid of his friends, they had survived trolls, spiders, and many other deadly pitfalls along the way. Sure, they were waylaid right now, captured and imprisoned by overzealous elves, but he had no doubt they would be free soon. Both Bilbo and Aisa were out there, he knew, working to spring them. It was surely just a matter of time.
Simply thinking of the enigmatic mage caused him to wander, his thoughts going in a direction he was extremely unfamiliar with. Except for a few innocent crushes in his youth, he had never really had the time or inclination for anything serious with a female, let alone a non-dwarven one. Not that he was blind to the charms of the fairer sex, no matter their race, but his interest had been superficial at best. It was utterly ridiculous, ludicrous even, that now of all times, when he was so close to the throne, so close to the thing that drove him, that one would come along to distract him. Never in his life had he felt this way, but he could not stop to enjoy it, and he could definitely not afford to lose himself in such a messy thing.
Of course, it was no ordinary female that he had succumbed to, and that was probably both the reason for his attraction and the source of his disquiet. Aisa was beyond beautiful, she was intoxicating; he reacted to her presence on instinct, without reason or logic. When he found her, he was a desperate, sorry excuse for the king he was born to be, and she fixed him, guided him onto the path that led him to the precipice of victory. Not out of charity though, he was quick to remember, but because she wanted something from him. At the beginning that had bothered him, but he had no other choice. Now, he would gladly give her practically anything she asked for.
While their friendship had begun out of necessity, along the way it had become more, and he was certain she felt that too. There were only so many times she could claim that she was "protecting her assets," before that reasoning became tired and unlikely. He may be a toy to her, but he was clearly a cherished one, and he didn't quite believe the simplicity of the her explanation. When they were alone, there was a softness to her, something he gathered would only ever be seen by him. It was those moments that he clung to in the lonely darkness of his cell.
Something scurried across his foot, and he shook his leg as a common grey mouse showed itself. He almost found himself swatting at it, when he paused, the knowledge of a previous visitor swaying him. The rodent never even hesitated as it dove into a crack along the wall.
"Of course not," he mumbled to himself. "She would never show up when I expect it."
He put his head back against his rolled cloak, drifting, as sleep was beginning to come to him, when he felt fingers playing with his hair. A dream, he thought, and strange, but the sensation would not leave. A whisper joined it, "It's much more fun to be unexpected."
He startled, his eyes finding Aisa within the dimly lit cell. He could only see her face, the orb she used casting a silvery glow. He could feel the pull, his need to touch her. "Aisa…"
Sitting up, his hands scrambled for her. "You're here…" he breathed, half-asleep and disbelieving what his senses were telling him.
She nodded, "I am. Better late than never."
His fingertips grazed her cheek as she locked eyes with him, and his throat went so dry that his voice sounded strained. Everything else he thought to ask, about Bilbo and escaping the elven kingdom, vanished from his mind. He had only one question for her that she had to answer, and he needed that more than his freedom. "Why?"
Her eyes found the ceiling, "Well, for one, I was trying to keep you all alive in the woods, until Bilbo managed to find you. And I could hardly barge in here with Thranduil's guards everywhere. Elves are crafty creatures, and formidable magicians—they are not to be taken lightly."
He shook his head, realizing that he was being unclear. She had no clue that his thoughts while imprisoned had been predominantly of her. "Why did you bring the eagles? Why have you saved my life twice? Why are you here now, trying to do so again?"
His barrage caught her off guard, and for just a moment, he thought he was going to get somewhere. "I told you, your well-being is important to me."
"That simple, is it?"
"We've been over this before, Thorin. I don't like to repeat myself."
Her tone left little room for any further comments, and he let it go, realizing there was no headway to be made. He released her, pulling himself back, trying to regain some space, but there was not much to be had in the tiny cell. So, he folded his legs in front of him, making due with what could be done under the circumstances.
A tiny, wry smile formed on her face at his actions, and she cooed, "Now, now...don't be put off. I was enjoying our reunion."
He would not be provoked by her, and he waited in silence, a drip from the damp stone wall the only sound among them. She sighed loudly, almost a huff, before she spoke again, "It's not very wise to ignore someone bringing good news…"
She moved, sitting on the ground beside him, shoulder to shoulder. "Bilbo will be here soon, and he has a plan to free all of you."
Thorin could not help the small grin, "That hobbit is amazing. He never ceases to surprise me."
"He may be short in stature, but he is not lacking in courage."
Turning his head, he tried and failed to remember Aisa ever uttering a compliment for anyone. She continued, "He also cares a great deal for you and your mission. But…"
She paused, giving him a very pointed stare, "I would wager that you have never questioned him as to his motives."
He could scarcely believe his ears, as just a hint of jealousy laced her words, their intent to draw a parallel between herself and the hobbit. "Then you would be easily parted from your gold. I doubted Bilbo from the beginning. But, he did not require payment sworn to by a gold-oath for his assistance."
A cackle, so loud that it bounced off the cell walls and rang in his ears, and he knew then that only the two of them could hear this conversation. "So, there is no contract between you? No agreement?"
"That was for his benefit," he tried and failed to sidestep her accusation. He knew she had him trapped, and he wrinkled his nose in displeasure. "Besides, Gandalf believes that Bilbo is essential to our success, to defeating the dragon and reclaiming Erebor. I'm sure I need not remind you what he thinks about your involvement."
"Spare me. I've heard enough from the Grey's own mouth. Did he tell you all about our little conversation?"
He nodded, "More or less. He pretty much demanded that I send you away, but I told him it wasn't that simple. That's when he said it was, that you had agreed to leave, if I asked."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because I wish not to be a burden but a blessing. If you want me to go, I will."
He sighed, so weary of this dance between them, "Since when have you cared what I wanted?"
A murmur, he caught the sound as her chant began, and it infuriated him, his hand grabbing her wrist instinctively, "Go on, make away and hide. It's what you did after the Carrock."
She rounded on him, coming to her knees as her free hand shoved his shoulder into the wall. Fuming, she spit, "Do you think I would rather sit here and listen to you whine?!"
"No," he offered as he grabbed her chin, crashing his lips into hers. The response was instant—she leaned into him, and his hands found their way around her waist. Blissful but short-lived, she broke away, bracing herself against his chest. Her face wore a mixed mask of confusion and anger, her eyebrows raised questioningly with lips pursed. She stared at him expectantly, demanding an explanation, "What are you doing?"
He shrugged as he offered, "I thought of a more enjoyable way to use my mouth, since I was whining..."
"You assume that I enjoyed that," she tried to look displeased.
"If you had not, I'd already be dead by now."
She laughed, clear and light, and he smiled from ear to ear, thrilled that he could bring that gift to her. "True. But I'm not sure that we should complicate things."
"Too late for that," he sighed, opening his heart as he laid it all bare, "What I feel about you is complicated...it confounds and disorients me."
"Thorin," she started, and he lifted his hand, bringing a finger across her lips. "I know you do not want to hear this, but I cannot ignore it any longer."
She nodded, and he continued, "I have never before in my hundreds of years felt like this. I started all this hating that I had to make you a blind promise, and now, I never want you to collect."
"Why?"
"If you do, you'll have no reason to follow me any longer."
She sighed, and it sounded almost as bone-weary as he felt. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. I never intended to become this involved."
"You regret helping me?"
"Never," she responded emphatically, "The way you looked at Erebor from the Carrock that day—it confirmed for me that I had made the right choice. We have grown close in the time that has passed since you walked into my home, and while that is surprising, I will never regret it."
Her fingers cupped his face, gently rubbing his beard. "But, you will, and that is my fear."
He started to speak, and her finger reached across his lips, mimicking him. It stilled his mouth, but woke something else, and he prayed that the darkness masked him. "Everyone and everything else in my years have come and gone. My existence is a lonely one, and believe me when I tell you, it should be."
Her nail traced along under his moustache, down across his beard, and skimmed his adam's apple. "I could lie to you Thorin, and it is tempting. Claim to be honorable, better than what I am."
His heart fluttered as her hand traveled lower, down across his chest and stomach, pausing at his waistband as she murmured, "I'm nothing if not mischievous, and that twisted part of me would like nothing more than to take advantage."
He grabbed her wrist, returning to the same position that had started it all. "You cannot exploit me, Aisa. I am willing."
He guided her hand lower, allowing her tactile proof of his claim. She exhaled deeply at the contact, her breath shaky as she leaned her forehead against his, and he closed his eyes, feeling the struggle in the air between them. "I am a monster," she whispered to him, the words hot against his cheek. "I am what makes the bravest warriors tremble in fear, and I ruin all that I desire to end."
He felt himself spiraling, his control waning at her proximity. Every part of him felt afire, but disconnected, and he attempted to speak, but no words came. It was wrong, but worry would not come to him, and as he grabbed her shoulder, his eyes found hers. "Forgive me, sweet Thorin."
Her lips brushed his temple, and fatigue set over him, sleep coming for him too quickly for it to be natural. Her words were muddled, but he could vaguely make them out, "But, even I cannot bring myself to condemn you to this."