AN

When I first started on chapter seven, I wrote it as I usually do, from Harry's perspective, but I just wasn't satisfied with anything I wrote. This chapter will be from Thorin. Please enjoy!

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Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under The Mountain, The King of Durin's Folk, Slayer of the white orc, along with other grand titles, were having a terrible week. Whatever fool who would dare to claim that being king was an easy task would have Thorin's strong grip guiding that person's stupid head up a place where the sun didn't shine.

With a groan, the mountain king slipped out of the dark blue silk and left the cover of his comfortable bed with a silent prayed to the Great Maker, that this final day of the week would prove bearable.

The people of Erebor loved their king, for he had proven time and time again himself capable of ruling the greatest of the dwarven kingdoms.

At first, not everyone thought so highly of him. When Thorin came into the throne, he had had trouble with the oldest of the council's members, the advisers of his grandfather.

Through the years they had worked against him at every turn, faulting him for his young age. They had done their best to persuade the rest of the council that he lacked knowledge of running a kingdom, to which they had at times succeeded, but only for the first few years.

Now, the old dust-gathering crones could hardly say a word against him without looking foolish. Still they would try, for they would not let Thorin win the game they themselves had started.

Running his hand through his hair, he loosened the knot from behind his head, letting his hair fall to rest around his shoulders. The heated air didn't bother his half-clad form as he walked through the room. His dark haired chest was left exposed as he went to groom his hair.

Seeing himself in the mirror as he led the comb into the rivers of black, he wondered if the crones had any tricks planned for today's meeting. Their suggestions for improvements would always differ, often harmless proposals which he easily reasoned against; they always wanted to raise the taxes, then they had argued against fertilizing the land around Erebor, calling it sacred, even though their rising civilization could benefit from a secure food source. Then there was the ever-asking question of marriage, which he would rather not think about this early in the morning.

He could already feel his mood sink, despite having the love of his people and a healthy and prosperous kingdom, because today awaited yet another meeting. He was immensely proud of his people for their achievements, kinship, and loyalty but he could have lived without the stubbornness, especially in the council meetings.

Setting his handmade golden comb aside, he started braiding his two signature braids, starting just before his ears. He didn't care much for his own hair which, compared to the rest of his family line, was rougher and wilder. Dis had mentioned on several occasions that his intended wife would have to be a most curious being to be able to bear and manage his wild hair and temper.

His family was like a ray of sunshine awaiting him every morning, his sister, brother, brother in law, and little nephew meant the world to him. The few minutes he had with his family at breakfast each morning bore him through the tough days.

This week had been the roughest yet and he knew without a doubt who to blame. Jarkar was the unofficial leader of the resistance movement against Thorin's rule, not because he was the oldest of the council members but because of his cunning.

Jarkar wasn't trained as a warrior but as a diplomat. He didn't have a warrior's mind and didn't deal with his enemy the same way a warrior dealt with conflict; through swordfight on a battlefield. Jarkar was not bloodthirsty enough to attempt to have him assassinated or brought down in a fight. Instead he sought to have Thorin humiliated and wanted to drag the name of Durin through the mud.

Now that Thorin had gained the respect and admiration from the majority of the council, Jarkar and his lackeys couldn't course any serious damage. For the longest time they had managed to cause Thorin his fair share of shearing headaches and left Balin cursing and feeling cross after some of the more troublesome meetings.

But a change of tactics had proven much bigger problems than a simple headache.

Glancing one last time in the mirror, as he finished clasping the final bead around his right braid, he wouldn't verbally admit that Jarkar's change of tactic was affecting him but the signs of tiredness in his face were obvious.

Walking towards his wardrobe, he hoped that he could avoid any unpleasant surprised today.

Having opened the dark heavy wooden door to his closet, he started sorting through the mass of fabrics, already feeling the beginning of frustration.

Yesterday he had dismissed all the servants from his room. He had even talked to the head maid, who is in charge of all the servants, to make sure that none were to enter his room from that day forth. Though Brunhilda, the head maid, undoubtly found his order odd, she hadn't questioned him on his decision; not even to know who then would keep and clean his chamber.

Struggling over heaps of wool, silk, and leather, the king was starting to doubt how wise his rash decision to dismiss the servants who would pick out his outfits each morning had been. He excelled at many subjects and skills but he was utterly lost when it came to picking out clothes. Thorin didn't possess much talent for fashion; Frerin and Dis's teasing had made it clear that he had no eye for it.

Reluctantly he dragged a set of trousers and a shirt out that he had used a couple of days ago. With his big wardrobe it would seem a strange choice, but at least it would prove bulletproof from receiving any weird glances from his subjects.

After all, fashion was important for his image. Right now, he was falling apart by the seams and it was clear from his hasty decisions that he could no longer think straight, but he didn't want it to show from his outer appearances.

Jarkar's new scheme was in some ways ironic. Years prior, Thorin had fought to ban prostitution from his kingdom. Erebor was prosperous and only in demand of labour because of their small population, it didn't prove too difficult for the individual dwarf to find a well-paid occupation.

Dwarves where not the most fertile of races and dames were scarce, he wouldn't abuse the few dwarrowdams they had by paying them for sexual favours. When it later became clear that the men and women use by these organisations had been abducted at a young age to learn their trade, Thorin's new law passed.

The whore house had been closed down and all traces of pleasure slaves were gone, but that had only appeared to be on the surface, for they still found occasional lawbreakers. Thorin knew that he hadn't stopped the meat-market completely, not for lack of trying. The punishment for being associated with prostitution was grave, you could be the buyer, the prostitute, or the pimp and the penalty would be the same. They had helped a few former whores, who had been unwilling participates and offered protection and help to all the unfortunate victims who came forth.

He didn't know how but Jarkar had somehow managed to assemble a group of willing whores to go after him. He had speculated on the subject so many times now that he automatically grabbed the coat by the door and slung it over his shoulders as he walked out in the hall, still brooding over the issue.

He had been beyond shocked when the first whore, a big breasted woman with spectacular golden, curly hair and sparkling honey eyes full of hidden promises, had cornered him in an empty corridor. They, the whores, always caught him alone with plans to tempt him, whispering about unimaginable pleasure while trying to cling to his form. In those moments, quite conveniently, a guard, servant, or citizen could be heard approaching. So far, he had not been shocked nor tempted enough to miss the approaching steps and voices of others, succeeding in regaining control over the situation.

The six women he had captured and questioned had revealed nothing of their associates or background, making it impossible to accuse Jarkar. He had had their hair cut of in the privacy of their cell, banished them, and then had them escorted out of Erebor's lands when it became clear that they wouldn't speak further.

These incidents had remained hidden away from the public eye and only been discussed in the privacy of council meetings. Thorin didn't want to trouble his people with this personal attack against him and thus told nobody but his family and council members about being targeted in the foul scheme.

After another failed seduction attempt yesterday, in his own personal chamber, it seemed Jarkar couldn't use this strategy successfully any longer, for it was clear that he was an unwilling participant. But how, he hated the fact that his personal chamber, his safe heaven, had been breached by a stranger. He was possessive by nature, a trait shared between most dwarves, and while he owned and ruled Erebor he couldn't, in truth, own it completely. All that he owned, the halls, grounds, the treasures, the lands, were to be shared between all of Erebor's citizens. His forefathers, including his grandfather and father, had all had the same troubles that he had with the crown, the problem of sharing. It was a terrible burden, a burden said that only the line of Durin could handle, for the voice of greed would whisper and sing its sweet song; the treasure was rightfully his and should be his alone.

As quick as these thoughts came to mind they would be gone again. He would not break; he was a dwarf made to endure in even the most difficult of times.

Heading towards the royal dining hall, already appreciating the brilliant smile his nephew, Fili, would send him when he would arrive, he nodded acknowledgment to the servants who all bowed and backed against the walls in the royal wing, moving aside to give him space in the already spacious halls.

Taking another turn, he went to a familiar door, his amad's old room. It was a daily ritual for him to visit her room, standing among her preserved furniture, belongings, along with her fragrance that still clung to the room. He would only stand there for a short moment to draw strength from the happy memories he recalled from his childhood with her.

His eyes caught a flicker of light, which he momentarily dismissed as nothing, but when it came again, he knew with certainty that his mother's room was occupied by intruders, for neither Dis nor Frerin stepped a foot in there.

Hot, red, boiling anger, filled every part of his body. It flowed through his veins and electrocuted his nerves.

Banging through the door, which opened into familiar surroundings, Thorin was greeted by an unexpected sight: a round, firm backside, strutting high in the air, followed by a pair of pale, lean, muscle-filled legs, which were dusted with a fine layer of hair. The desirable rump was illuminated by the firelight from the fireplace and was only covered by a white, wet material that clung to the round twin globes.

None of the other whores had exposed themselves so shamelessly. He stood temporarily stunned in the doorway before the anger resurfaced again and he stepped further into the room.

When the whore, for surely that's what he could only be when he displayed his body with such ease, turned around, Thorin was greeted by a face, one of Mahal's finer creations.

The Great Maker had crafted and formed many wonders, and in the eyes of the dwarves no other could outdo his creations. And the being in front of him only proved this fact further.

Captivating emerald eyes, shining and sparking with light, which only the finest of stones would possess. They were an unusually rare sight from the common brown, gold, and black eye colour. The imposter had raven-wing black hair, waist long, and he couldn't find a single braid in sight. There were no beads of family, rank, accomplishments, or marriage, not even metals or stones for decoration.

The strong, unmarked face, could at first look be mistaken for the face of youth, but, though it was a rare occurrence in their history, Thorin could easily identify the body of a bearer; a male dwarf capable to have children.

Where and how the emerald abnâm had managed to stay hidden from society, he did not know. A bearer would, at his birth, be well-known and celebrated by the whole dwarven race.

What a waste, trained and used, the signs of ruin were clear. He bore no mark of hard work or battle on his body, his skin was soft looking like that of a new-born. He was but a tempter, proficient only in the work between the sheets and, by the look of it, he worked there a lot. Lean, clean muscles on wide shoulders instead of the customary huge arms that came from swinging a sword or a hammer. He had a flat, well-kept stomach, full thighs, and small, bare feet. A true temptress.

It felt like hours had passed since he first looked into deep green eyes but only a few seconds had gone by and reality suddenly stuck. Remembering the situation, the reason for this chanced meeting, he demanded to know who would dare to send him here.

Mad with anger when his question wasn't immediately answered, he was fuelled with rash decisions. Emerald Eyes, only stuttered the first string of what would have been words of an apology, he didn't even struggle when Thorin grabbed a hold of him, a vibrant sign of his guilt, like that of a thief caught by the guard, he knew what fate awaited his transactions.

Having a firm hold of his silken locks, he walked with steady steps through the corridors. Lost in his own thoughts and theories, Thorin didn't even notice the shocked dwarves he met on his way.

Thorin would make sure once and for all that the old council crones wouldn't be able to find willing whores to go after him no matter the price they would offer. He would make a good example of Emerald Eyes and simultaneously show that he had his people's support.

Reaching his destination, he judged Emerald Eyes guilty in the act of prostitution with a crowd of his subjects as witnesses so the word of his act would reach every corner of the kingdom.

He would admit that the final act of struggle surprised him. He didn't think that the whore had it in him to resist, but he dared to smack Thorin's hand away, like he was the naughty child.

He didn't know why this surprised him so much. The whore was obviously empty minded, nothing but a pretty façade use to getting his way with his bed-mates.

The hit his hand delivered felt satisfying and when his knife cut the first strands of black tresses, he knew that he shouldn't feel this deep gratification.

Before his blade had pierced more than a few locks his hand was stalled by the call of Nori's familiar voice.

Nori's form broke forth between the masses, his normal unemotional face filled with worry. He was about to command an explanation for the interruption when Nori beat him to it.

"Thorin," Nori exclaimes with a lowered voice as he walked closer, "let go of him. I know this dwarf and he isn't involved in that business, he's innocent."

Nori had only been his Spymaster for a few years but there couldn't be a person more suited for the task. Thorin trusted Nori with his life even though Nori had a dark past. Before Nori had taken up the post, he had caused a big problem for the wealthiest in Erebor's halls, Thorin included. Be it hidden secrets or treasures, nothing was safe from Nori's grasp. Even to this day, after Thorin had pardoned Nori from all his pervious crimes, there were still many who thought that he should be locked behind bars. His best friend and brother in arms, Dwalin, still had a big thorn in Nori's side after he had failed to capture him through his thieving years.

"Are you completely sure?" Thorin could hear himself ask, his grip still strong on the black hair. He held onto it with the same deep, desperate hope that Nori this single time was in the wrong. He could not have made a mistake, there was no misinterpreting what he had witnessed in his amad's chambers; the dwarf had clearly tried to seduce him.

"Yes. He has no part in it and neither is he acting on his own." Nori's answer may not have been the most detailed but there was no need for details at the moment and Nori knew that. Right now, what really mattered was for Thorin to restore the damage he had made in a very public setting; details could come after.

As soon as Thorin loosened his grip, Emerald Eyes hurried to his feet, his dishevelled form rushing to take place beside Nori. Not even with the wild hair, the angry flaming mark on his cheek, and the white towel around his form could his undeniable beauty be deterred.

"I told you that it was all a misunderstanding and you would not listen." Even though, Emerald Eyes didn't raise his voice, the hall was deathly silent and his words found their way to every ear.

"You have humiliated me, insulted me, raised your hand at me, and frightened me with your irrational behaviour. If this is how the king of Erebor treats his people then I do not wish to live here."

Thorin became overwhelmed by the deep sense of shame that filled him. It had been decades since he last felt this lost and confused. This time, though, it wasn't because he had disappointed his father by foolish behaviour in a history lesson. Instead, it was the aftermath of much severer circumstances. Here, he could not afford to let time smooth this over and gather himself in the confines of his room, for the crowd was growing ever restless by his silence. A few shouts of agreement, turned into stumping boots and cries for justice.

It may not have been Emerald Eyes' intention, for his focus was sorely on Thorin, but his words had affected the crowd, much to Thorin's great dismay.

Like a spell, the noise quieted down when Emerald spoke again. "While you may have acted unreasonably you shouldn't stand with the fault alone. I did intrude upon your property and for that I'm deeply sorry. Breach of property is indeed illegal but I do not think that I should be treated this unjustly nor accused of prostitution."

He felt the weight of the hundred eyes resting on his form, staring expectantly at him. Now, he could only apologize for his wrongdoings and hope that Emerald Eyes wouldn't demand an impossible restitution.

"I have dealt you a great wrong, a wrong I can't hope to repent by a mere apology." Breaking eye contact, Thorin lowered his head in a slight bow. "At the moment, though, words are all I can give you. I, Thorin Oakenshield, apologize and promise to atone for my wrongdoings by you to the best of my abilities."

Here, he lifted his face to gaze into stunning greens. "In the face of what I've done, your crime is already forgiven. It is I that will be in your debt until I have repaid you in kind."

"That will not be necessary." Thorin wasn't alone in his shock. Emerald's sharp replay had stunned the crowd, even Nori, who glanced worriedly at him.

"What do you mean? You must want compensation for what I have done to you."

"No, I don't want anything. All I wanted was for you to apologize. Now I want nothing from you."

What game was he playing at? He said that he didn't want anything and refused compensation for his loss of hair, dwarves always had to have their payment. This wasn't going in his favour. If Thorin should have a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his people he would have to settle the debt.

Was this some kind of twisted revenge? Not that he could fault Emerald Eyes for wanting vengeance for his inexcusable act. He had sadly dug this grave all on his own, all because of his temper: Jakar would be dancing when he heard news of this.

"Can I know the name of the person who has such a forgiving heart?" Thorin asked wearily, still confused about Emeralds' intentions.

"I'm Harry," he said in a shy greeting.

He had been stunning before, no one could deny that, but with that shy smile Thorin's breath was simply stolen away, even though, the smile was slightly askew and didn't reach his eyes. It was obvious from the polite attitude that he was hoping to overwrite their horrible first meeting.

"There must be something I can do for you," Thorin persisted, whilst taking a step closer. He wanted to be sure that he could right things between them after his horrible first impression.

"Right now," Harry replied, stepping back all the while, his hand nervously running through his uneven hair, "I don't want anything other than for you to leave me alone."

"That is completely understandable," he could hear himself say, letting his hand run over his coarse beard in thought. After a hesitating moment, he added. "Know that you may come to me, at any moment, should you have a change of heart."

"That is very kind of you, your majesty," Harry replied, but his focus wasn't on Thorin anymore. Instead, he looked awkwardly around, caught by all the attention they held, which Thorin had temporarily forgotten about.

"I would like to go home now," Harry said, as he turned away from Thorin, drawing the conversation between them to an abrupt close.

"Would you walk with me home, Nori? I have something I would like to talk to you about," he then asked, to which Nori gave a nod of consent.

Thorin didn't object to Nori leaving his side. He knew that he would come to him at a later point, but he watched Harry leave with mixed emotions. This morning had been terrible, he would be lying if he said otherwise. He had, after all, committed a terrible crime and possibly lost the trust and respect of his people. Harry may have brought on all sorts of bad tidings but Thorin knew that he would want to meet him again.

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AN

I know that some of you may be disappointed in Harry's lack of anger towards Thorin. Just so you know, I don't plan to let Thorin escape his terrible offense against Harry; he will be punished (for lack of a better word). Next chapter will also cast some light upon Harry's thoughts about Thorin's actions against him.

Also, I know that I have touched a heavy subject in this chapter, that is, prostitution. Thorin's opinion is in no way my own and I want you all to know that I don't mean to offend anyone with my words in this story!

I love all you guys for the wonderful support! When I first started writing I would never have expected anything like this, for this have completely overthrow my expectations. Thank you all so much!