A/N: Have you noticed in the previous chapter that Thorin admits that he feels "just a little smug" and remembers her "soft cries and grateful looks"? :) The self-assurance of men! Not exactly what she took from that night… :)
Your foot skids on a wet board of a log bridge and you slide into the ditch, scooping the dirty, foul smelling water into your favourite ankle boot. You sink up to your knee and have to balance awkwardly not to dunk your healer's sack. The rain is pouring on your head, and you hate your life.
You pull your leg out and stomping head to the door of a small house you are dwelling this week. The trip is a disaster. This year's excessive rain is ruining the harvest of many essential herbs. You spent the morning in the woods, soaking and cold, to no avail. You came back with the basket empty, irritated beyond measure. And then on your round to visit the patients, you had to excuse yourself and leave a room twice just so that you wouldn't start screaming. The overall stupidity of people is driving you mad. No, you do not eat roasted duck if your stomach hurts and you spent the previous night violently vomiting! No, you cannot forget to take your herbs for three days and then take them all together! Are you trying to kill yourself? No, you still can get pregnant even though he promised he will to be careful!
In the village you are staying, up to this moment, besides the usual inquiries you had to deal with a suspicious abscess, a size of a mouse, two cases of severe loveitch and a woman who thought she was growing horns.
You are drenched, tired and very very, hungry. You storm inside only to find a basket where you usually keep food empty. "Thea!" You roar across the tiny dining room. Your friend decided that a trip to the country would be a wonderful distraction, as according to her she is tired of your erratic behaviour. How going to the country with you and staying crammed in a tiny house for a week is a solution to this problem, you do not know. But when Thea decides on something, Thea gets it.
You receive no answer from the ever so jovial daughter of Dale. You cautiously peek in the bedroom but it is empty. Never a good sign with Thea. A libidinous voluptuous temptress sauntering around a village full of narrow-minded, reactionary residents is a recipe for a disaster. You would even take finding her in the bedroom you share, wrapped around some lad from the village over her going on an adventure. At least that time you were fast enough to avert your eyes, and did not see much. Not that there was much to see. You have seen better. Oh Valar, the things you have seen not that long ago under velvet garments of a certain Dwarf!
In Thea's words, you now have two interchanging states of mind. The "sulking sailor's bride state", which implies moping around, sad sighs heaving your chest, and "what am I doing giving up my life for a Dwarf frenzy" that manifests in overworking and repeatedly packing and unpacking your belongings. Unfortunately, she is not too far from the truth. She is also right about another thing, which you will never admit to her. Half of the time you are so angry because you are uncontrollably aroused. May be more than a half.
The last time you bedded a man was forty seven days ago, and no, you are not counting. You keep telling yourself that it is ridiculous, since you somehow had survived without a man for years before that memorable night in your inn room and a wee bit more of the same treat couple days later on the floor. All right, there was nothing wee about what transpired on the floor. And then on the bed. And on the floor again. And against the wall. Oh, that one was especially good! Pull your head out of your gutter, Wren! The point is that you are not an overzealous libidinous youngling and you have more important things to worry about.
Which cannot be more true, since in your entanglement with a certain Dwarf the carnal endeavours are in actually the simplest part. The rest is a confusing and emotionally draining can of worms. Well, may be that is a bit too harsh. A bag of kitten. Soft, warm, furry, sexy kittens. Oh Maiar, you have issues!
You inspect the kitchen and find two sets of dirty plates and cutlery. That explains it. Thea and her most recent victim had dinner, ate all your food and thankfully left for their next activities not to traumatize you. Where would you go in this rain? But again, it is the company that matters. You shake your head to rid yourself of a mental image of roughly fornicating with the Dwarven King in the middle of a field with rain pouring on your heated naked bodies, his luscious strands heavy, water trickling from them on the coarse chest hair and the rock hard pectoral muscles…
You kick a chair. And then again. If he was allowed to lose his composure, you are entitled to a little of rage as well! Since in your case assaulting furniture only leads to pain and purple bruises on your white skin, you look around the room looking for a helpless target. You mentally see the empty food basket shrinking from you in terror.
You grab the handle and bursting the door open you throw your victim into the puddles on the ground. Then you proceed violently kicking it around the yard, yelling very mild curses. You are not good at swearing.
"Self-assured, conceited, cantankerous Dwarf!.. Stupid, cowardly, indecisive Wren!.. Traditionalistic, unprogressive, narrow-minded Dwarves!.. Gorgeous, concupiscent, boisterous Thorin!.." Well, that is just sad, Wren, these are not even insults!
"You do realize that that is not how people swear?" Thea's tone is sarcastic. She is leaning on the wattle fence. She looks very pleased with herself. You are afraid to even think what this cat has done to the cream that she got today. Poor lad probably will not recover for a week. "You are supposed to mention private parts and insult close relatives."
You are breathing heavily and feel very sorry for yourself. Thea lifts a basket in her hand. "We have chicken and I brought your favourite seed cake." Well, it least you will eat. Other hungers will just have to just shut it.