A/N: UKReader, I ADORED the prompt! It's perfect! Just the right amount of vague and challenging, and oh so ingenious! Thank you!
A/N #2: Oh dearreader, this idea was just too delicious to pass, so I added it into the beginning of the already written chapter :) Thank you :)
Thorin tries to plan ahead for his next encounter with Wren, while Wren does the same.
The time Wren was burglarizing the Master of Laketown's house, while Thorin was trying to burgle the armory.
"We are the Dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland. I remember this town in the great days of old. Fleets of boats lay at harbor, filled with silks and fine gems. This was no forsaken town on a lake." Thorin saw the eyes of men and women of Laketown sparkle, and he added volume into his pathos filled speech. "This was the center of all trade in the North! I would see those days return. I would relight the great forges of the Dwarves and send wealth and riches flowing once more from the Halls of Erebor!" The people cheered, and Thorin felt he was winning, when the cursed bargeman stepped ahead.
"Death! That is what you'll bring upon us. Dragonfire and ruin. If you awaken that beast, it will destroy us all." Thorin clenched his jaw. Apparently more promises needed to be made. Whatever they said of Dwarves, greed was every race's sin. Everyone wanted their share of his gold, and again, Men were a weak lot, how long did they live? Eighty at most. None of them could remember the bane and the ruin of Smaug's attack.
He spoke more, convincing and cajoling, and of course the fat Master was the weak link. The background of the cursed bargeman helped a lot as well. So, he was a descendant of Girion, no wonder his boy was telling all those fairy tales about the Black Arrow to the hobbit.
Thorin locked his eyes with the Master, "I speak to the Master of the men of the lake. Will you see the prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?" Diplomacy might not have been Thorin's strength, but he knew how to overpower a man's will, "What say you?" And surely, three, two, one…
"I say unto you...welcome! Welcome and rise! Welcome, King Under the Mountain!" The crowd cheered, and Thorin couldn't lie, he enjoyed the title to be chanted by the townsfolk.
He stood tall, his legs set wide, jerked his chin up and looked over the town, his eyes above everyone's heads. And then he saw a small figure on the roof of a house across the street. She was sitting, one leg folded under her in her habitual habit he already knew, another dangling from the edge. In her black burglar outfit, she was hardly noticeable, but this time she wasn't hiding. She clapped to him dramatically, and he slightly tilted his head, showing her he appreciated the gesture.
There was a treble hook in her hands, with a rope tied to it, and she jumped on her feet, swung it, and it silently flew through the air. The rope was taut and solid between the houses, across the street, and he watched from the corner of his eye how she quickly walked on it keeping the perfect balance, right above the head of the unsuspected crowd, her slender figure and spread arms an alluring spectacle. Thorin turned to the Master pretending to listen to what the latter was mumbling about the feast they were to have now, and he saw her quickly disappear in the top window of the Master's house. The end of the rope slithered after her. Thorin chuckled and allowed them to lead him away, strangers' hands clapping his shoulders, other Dwarves smiling.
They were firstly given the best rooms in the town's inn, baths were prepared, clean new clothes provided, and Thorin sank in the hot water with a groan. He pretended the window he left open was for the fresh air and not a certain elusive redhead. She didn't show up, and he assumed she was having dinner in the bargeman's house as she promised.
He felt slightly irritated. The man antagonized him, and she prefered his company. Exactly, he thought, that was what he was going to concentrate on, how she always prefered the company of others, how she always had her own agenda, how it was never about his quest, how every time he ran into her she was robbing another unsuspecting dimwit. The men in Bree, Elrond, Thranduil, the Master, he was not going to become one more of men who underestimated her. She was not going with him to Erebor. She was foolish enough to give up the map and the key, now she wouldn't have a chance to get her deft little hands on his gold. Satisfied with this thought, he washed with pleasure, scrubbing grime and dirt off him, finally tending to his hair.
Thorin was buckling his belt, when excited Bofur came to tell him that the feast was served in the town hall. Tables were brought, food and wine abundant, it seemed the whole town was coming. Thorin was heading down the stairs of the inn when someone bumped into him. He opened his mouth to tell them off and froze with his mouth half open.
He had never seen her in a dress before, if one were not to count the meager scrap of a cloth she wore the very first night they met, when she was conning him pretending to be a wench. This garment was dark burgundy, velvet and gold thread brocade on a tight bodice, a low cut, peach coloured lace from the undertunic peeking flirtily around her cleavage, skirts full. In her hands she held a small fur lined coat, her hair in an elegant do, and she smiled to him.
"Good evening, Master Dwarf! Everyone seems to be waiting for you." Her neck was long and elegant, skin as if glowing, and she gave him a look from under her lashes. He looped his arm.
"Will you join me, lady Wren?" She giggled and put her hand on his forearm, not looping hers through his though.
"I would prefer to stay in the shadows, just a mere guest at your feast, my lord, but..." She stepped closer, her hand slid up to his shoulder, she made a few steps around him, and he felt her fingers brush his neck at the back. "Perhaps I shall see you after the feast."
"Perhaps." He threw her a look over his shoulder. She leaned in, and he felt her breath on his ear.
"That decided then, leave your window open again," shudder ran through his body from her whisper, and little fingers stroked his beard. The skirts rustled behind him, he turned around and stared at an empty space. He smirked and quickly started walking downstairs. Tonight it was then. Long overdue.
Personal A/N: A wrist brace, a new desk and an office chair, and kkolmakov is back :) I am resting my arm though, and thank you all for all your get better wishes! I love you all! You are the readers every sort-of-writer can wish for :)
The next chapter is almost ready and, Mahal help me, I am so excited about it, but also I'll be hiding under the blanket from shyness when I post it :P