Chapter Five
They slept late the next morning, both enjoying the luxury of a bed while they had one. Rori awoke first but didn't immediately move from her position, wrapped in Thorin's embrace with her head resting on his chest.
She really was going to have to do something about her feelings for him; they were only growing stronger with time and she wasn't careful, she would soon be madly in love with him. Well, she corrected, even more madly in love.
She began to wonder what it would be like to be a queen but soon stopped those thoughts and carefully slipped from Thorin's embrace. She went into the bathroom and quickly shaved and dressed before returning to the main room. Thorin was awake now, his arms full of clothes as he waited for his turn in the bathroom. As he passed her, he gave her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.
"Morning," he smiled.
"Hi," Rori answered, feeling very strange to be waking up with him. Of course she had woken up with him for a few nights now but there was something about being in a proper bed that made it feel different. She tried not to ponder that too much.
After a hearty breakfast in the inns tavern, they headed out into the town of Bree to see about getting some more supplies. It was still raining but there were patches of blue in the sky, which Rori was hopeful that it might mean that the bad weather was about to break.
Rori spoke many languages but she hardly ever got a chance to use them because female dwarves rarely mixed with other races and as such, she relished this opportunity and did most of the talking. Thorin was no slouch on languages but he was not as proficient as Rori.
When they had ordered more food, horse feed and various other sundries to be delivered to the inn, they ate at a nearby tavern and by the time they had finished eating, they could see that the rain had finally stopped.
Rori asked if they might visit a book vendor. Although books were not an interest of his, he was happy to accompany her and watched with interest as she browsed the shelves, enjoying the way her whole face lit up when she discovered a book she liked.
Rori had brought most of her savings with her, hoping to start restocking her library. She purchased fourteen books in that first shop, which she asked to be kept for her to collect on their return journey. Since she was paying in full for the books, the shop keeper was happy to oblige her in that request.
"We will need another pony at this rate," he teased as they exited the third shop.
"Oh!" Rori looked from Thorin to the shop and bit her lower lip, realising that she had probably bought over thirty books in total, and that was indeed a lot of weight for a pony to carry on top of it's usual load.
"Don't worry," he hurriedly assured her. "We will find merchant who trades with Dale and have the books sent that way."
"Is that possible?" she asked.
"This place is full of merchants; there must be some who trade with the men of Dale," he reasoned.
"Do any of them trade with the Erebor dwarves?"
"Probably not. Aside from meat and vegetables which we trade for with the men in Dale and Laketown, we are fairly self sufficient."
Rori still looked hesitant so Thorin threw his arm around her shoulder and laughed. It was amazing that something like getting books delivered could cause her such anxiety.
"We will ask the innkeeper to recommend someone," he said. "Such people are usually a font of local information."
Rori smiled, reassured by his confidence and they headed back to the inn for the evening. They ate in the inn's bar then retired to Thorin's room for the rest of the evening. They weren't nearly so tired this evening so they lay facing each other in bed and talked for a while.
They were discussing Thorin the first, when their sharing of the same name suddenly reminded Rori of something.
"What's your real name?" she asked.
Dwarves are secretive by nature and the names they are generally known by, even the names that appear on their headstones, are their adopted mannish names. Their dwarf names are known only to their own kind and even then, usually only those closest to a dwarf would have cause to know their other name.
You could argue about which name was their "real" name; the dwarf name known only to a few or their man-like names, which were known to many. Regardless, Thorin knew what she was asking.
He smiled warmly at her, pleased that she wanted to know.
"Khuloh," he answered.
"It suits you," she smiled.
"And yours?" he asked.
"Návaín," she said without hesitation. "I was named for my great grandmother."
"That's a lovely name," he told her.
As their gazes locked, their smiles faded and Thorin reached one hand out to cup Rori's cheek. Emboldened by her request to know his dwarf name, he leaned over and kissed her gently. Rori responded, her arms winding around his neck as she deepened the kiss.
She had never experienced anything like the feeling she did when Thorin kissed her. It was more than just passion, it was a feeling of being complete, of being whole for the first time in her life, even though when he was not kissing her, she wasn't aware that anything was missing.
The kiss lasted for a few minutes before Thorin finally pulled away. He hovered over Rori, thinking how beautiful she looked with her hair fanned out across the pillow and her cheeks flushed. She raised her head to kiss him again but he moved away slightly. Rori frowned, looking hurt.
"If we do not stop now, I may not be able to stop at all," Thorin said, his voice deep with desire.
Rori lay beneath him for a moment as she considered his words. Was she really brave enough to go through with this. In the end she decided it was not so much a matter of bravery, more a matter of need. She reached up once again to kiss him, giving him her answer and this time, he did not pull away.
Although it was difficult, Thorin took his time, knowing that he was likely the first person that Rori had ever lain with. He didn't want to frighten her with his ardour nor cause her pain, which was possible during a first coupling. He savoured every inch of her, enjoying the exploration of her body and by the time they were finished, they both felt thoroughly sated.
Thorin hovered above her and with one hand, pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Návaín, isimunme," he said, his voice tender loving.
Shocked, Rori quickly put her hand over his mouth, for his words meant "Navain, my eternal," which was the dwarf mating ritual. If Rori said his name and repeated the phrase, they would essentially be married. Dwarves had no time for complex ceremonies and legalities, if both parties said the others dwarf's name and repeated the phrase, 'my eternal', they were deemed to be married. Even without witnesses present, as long as both parties agreed that the phrase had been uttered, they were married.
Rori wasn't ready to take that final step though. It wasn't that she didn't trust Thorin, she would trust him with her life, she just didn't think very much of marriage, having only had her parents as an example. The idea of getting married to anyone terrified her.
Thorin was a little hurt that she had stopped him since he thought that they were finally on the same wavelength, but he understood her well enough to know that she was not rejecting him. At least he hoped she wasn't.
"I'm sorry," Rori said, taking her hand from his mouth. "I can't,"
"I understand," Thorin said. He rolled off her and gathered her against him, holding her to his side. "When you are ready we shall be wed, and not a moment sooner." He kissed the top of her head.
Their perfect evening had now been soured, for Rori by Thorin pressing the issue of marriage and for Thorin, by Rori rejecting his offer. They lay there in silence for quite some time before sleep claimed them, each lost in their own thoughts and fears; together but alone.
III
The next day was market day in Bree and although they had bought everything they needed for the rest of their journey yesterday, they went to look at the wares on offer. There were all kinds of stalls there and all races seemed to be represented, even dwarves, who tended to sell items such as weaponry and jewellery.
These dwarves hailed from Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains and they knew Thorin, since that had been his domain before he had reclaimed Erebor from the dragon. He was still their king, although they had elected a leader to oversee the day to day needs of the dwarves who had remained behind.
Rori was careful to stay quiet as he spoke with them since she did not want to be recognised as a dwarf. She had left the Blue Mountains when she was just 22 years old and so it was unlikely that anyone would remember her, but it paid to be safe rather than sorry.
Thorin asked the stall holders about Ris, Rori's grandfather, and was pleased to hear reports that he was still alive, albeit ailing rapidly. Of course the Blue Mountains were a two week journey from Bree but it was the most recent news available.
He told them that his journey there was to find an old prophecy and introduced Rori as his translator. Although dwarves are quite accomplished when it comes to the languages of other races, they are not infallible and most prophecies were written in old language, sometimes even dead dialects, so they didn't question his need for a translator.
Most of the dwarves at the market were travelling around to different towns each day to sell their wares at each markets, but a few of the stall holders were returning to the mountains the next day, having sold most of their wares and needing to restock. They told Thorin that they would be honoured if he chose to accompany them back. Thorin hedged his bets and said that he wasn't sure when they were leaving, so one of the traders told him to be here in the market square at eleven the following day if he wished to accompany them.
Rori listened to the conversation with decidedly mixed feelings.
They chose not to stop and chat with most of the hobbit stallholders, lest any of them question Rori in too much detail about her origins. Other races did not think ill of her for her lack of beard and neither did the dwarves, since they did not know that she was one of them, so she was becoming more comfortable about being beard-less. She began to wonder if the humiliation of not having a beard was more in her mind than anything else. She had been taught that it was shameful and so she felt shame, but when no one else looked down on her, she began to feel more confident and upon catching her reflection in a mirror or glass a time or two, at times began to think that she looked quite pretty without the beard.
Looking around the large market took up most of the day and then they returned the Inn. Alone in his room, Thorin asked her how she felt about travelling on with the others.
"There is safety in numbers," she answered, "Though we might make slower progress."
"And how do you feel about it?" he clarified, having noticed her reticence when the offer was made.
"I don't know," she said. "Part of me would like their company, to be among my own kind again, but I dread the looks of disdain once they realise that I am a dwarf. Then again, if I keep up the charade of being a hobbit, which will be difficult with the need to shave so often, we will not be able to share a tent and I find that thought most... unsettling."
They looked at each other for a moment.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"If we do travel with them, we must tell them the truth about you," he said. "Once we reach the Blue Mountains, they will feel dishonoured to realise that they had a female in their midst and did not show her the proper respect."
"You will not mind them knowing that your-" she had been about to say wife but she wasn't that, not yet. "That you are associating with a beardless dwarf?"
"You have committed no wrong, my love, you have nothing to feel bad about. Indeed your lack of beard could be seen as a sacrifice on your part to help your king."
"Perhaps," she said, wringing her hands together nervously. "If it is your wish that we travel with them, then I shall do so gladly." She sounded anything but glad at the thought.
"You are no longer my subject, Rori, you are my equal!" he snapped. "For once in your life, venture an opinion and stop deferring to me all the time!"
Rori looked up, shocked by his outburst.
"I am not your equal," she said, in danger of losing her own temper. "Not yet!"
"And who's fault is that?" he asked rhetorically. "You will be my queen one day and the sooner you accept that, the better."
"Don't I have a say in my future?" she snapped back.
"I don't know, do you? I am offering you a choice on your future right now but you will not make one!"
"Fine, then we will travel with the other dwarves and let them see exactly what kind of wife you have chosen for yourself. That might sober you up a little!"
"I am not drunk," he argued. "I see nothing wring with my choice of mate and neither will they!"
"Fine!" she crossed her arms and turned away from him.
"Fine!" he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Rori stood there, wondering why she had said that she wanted to travel with the other dwarves when she would feel shame for the rest of the journey. She knew why though, she was testing herself. This small group of dwarves would be the first to know how far things with Thorin had developed and their reaction would be telling. Would they accept her as a good mate for their king or would they ridicule him for his choice of partner? She couldn't bear it if he was somehow lesser in their eyes because of his association with her, she simply could not do that to him.
III
Thorin didn't have a destination in mind when he stormed out and so he found himself in the inn's tavern, ordering a pint of ale.
"Thorin, my good man, how are you?"
Thorin turned to see Gandalf behind him.
"I had heard that reports of your demise were greatly exaggerated."
Thorin managed to raise himself out of his bad mood long enough to greet Gandalf properly. He knew that he owed this man a great deal and that without his advice, he would never have reclaimed the Lonley Mountain for his people.
"Gandalf, good to see you again. Will you join me?"
"I have a little time to spare," he said, sitting at a smaller bar stool on Thorin's left so that they almost appeared to be almost the same height.
"So what brings you to Bree?" Gandalf asked.
"I'm on my way to the Blue Mountains. There is a prophecy there which might help me understand what happened."
"Ah, yes, I believe I have heard of that one. I can't give you any great details I'm afraid, but I certainly hope that you find the answers you seek."
Thorin grunted.
"Woman trouble?" Gandalf asked, sounding amused.
"Something like that," Thorin agreed.
"Do not trouble yourself too much," Gandalf reassured his friend. "I believe your companion will find the answers she seeks in the mountains also. Try to be patient until then."
Thorin turned and took a hard look at the wizard beside him.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"The same way I knew that Bilbo would be essential to your quest. I do not often know how or why I know these things, only that I do know them."
"She's just so..." he didn't want to speak ill of Rori, so he bit his tongue.
"Infuriating?" Gandalf guessed. "It can be hard when someone we care about cannot see what's good for them, but you don't have the power or the right to change her mind for her. She will come around in her own time."
"Can I have that in writing?" Thorin meant to tease but his tone was to heavy to be mistaken for jesting.
"There are no guarantees in life," Gandalf said. "But try to give her time and I am confident that all will work out for the best."
Thorin nodded, appreciating Gandalf's attempt to cheer him up, even if he was unable to believe his words.
"Ah, there is the gentleman I am meeting," Gandalf said, getting off his bar stool. "It was very nice to see you again, Thorin."
"And you," Thorin said, meaning it.
"If you'll excuse me." Gandalf went off to greet his companion and Thorin was left brooding into his ale glass once again.
Even if Gandalf was wrong and Rori never came around, he was also right and Thorin couldn't change her mind. If she accepted him it had to be of her own free will.
He was still sitting alone at the bar when Rori joined him fifteen minutes later.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking the stool on Thorin's right, which was a similar size to his. "It's hard for me to trust people," she tried to explain.
"So I am just 'people' now, am I?"
Rori glanced around, worried that someone had heard his petulant words but no one had seemed to. While she was dressed as a hobbit, she couldn't appear too friendly with him or they would incite gossip.
"You know you are more than that," she said softly. "But this isn't about you or even us, it's about me. I always vowed that I would never make the same mistake that my mother did when she married my father and... It's just not something I can brush aside." She looked around her to check that no one was listening, then reached out and placed one hand on his arm. "I do love you but I am just not ready for a commitment yet. Please don't hate me, please try to understand."
Thorin did understand but his wounded pride didn't want to. He finally looked over at her and it was her guileless expression which finally softened his heart.
"I don't hate you," he admitted. "You infuriate me sometimes but I could never hate you."
Rori smiled slightly, pleased by his words. He hadn't told her that he loved her, but then she had rejected him last night, so he wasn't likely to place his heart on the line again, at least for a while.
"Can we go upstairs?" she asked. She hated having to keep her distance and watch what she said while they were in public. In fact ever since they had started this journey, alone with him was the only time when she felt normal. She wasn't much relishing travelling with the other dwarves tomorrow but she was prepared to face their scorn.
Thorin nodded at her suggestion and they left the tavern together. To her surprise, Thorin threw his arm around her shoulder as they left. Rori tried to pull away, fearing the stories that such an act might start but his grip was too strong and she couldn't get free without creating a scene. Oh well, she reasoned, Rori the hobbit wasn't real, if he wanted to start the world thinking that he was seeing a hobbit, let him; it was no skin off her nose after all!
III
Rori was nervous the next morning as they approached the other dwarves in Market square. They introduced themselves as Pele, the sword-smith, Arnot a jeweller, Mir his assistant and Bom who traded in miscellaneous wares on behalf of other dwarves.
Thorin introduced himself, though he needed no introduction, and Rori as his translator. They had agreed not to tell the others her true identity until they stopped for lunch, just in case their shock should draw the attention of other town folk.
Since they believed that they had a non-dwarf among their party, they spoke Westron rather than Khuzdul. They rode in pairs, Thorin and Pele leading the group as they were the most respected, Arnot and Bom rode behind them and Rori and Mir brought up the rear. Each of them led a pack pony, though the tradesmen ponies were light on this, their return journey.
Mir wasn't much for talking and so they rode in silence for most of the morning, but she could see the other pairs up ahead chatting away. Rori soon grew bored and entertained herself by reliving some of her stories in her head.
The rain had stayed away and they seemed to be making good time when they stopped for lunch, at a cluster of fallen tree trunks which had been arranged as seating by the road side. Realising that she would probably be nervous, Thorin came to help her from her mount. She noticed Pele and Arnot pointing out his chivalry and whispering to each other.
Rori smiled her thanks to Thorin and tried to ignore the others; if Thorin noticed them, he gave no indication. In the next few minutes things were about to get either a lot easier for them or a lot harder, so Rori took a deep breath and accompanied Thorin over to the fallen trees where the others had gathered, wishing that she felt as relaxed as he looked.
Everyone stared at her as she sat down.
"Now that we are alone, I have an announcement," Thorin said, reverting to the dwarf language. "I'm afraid that Rori and I haven't been entirely truthful with you."
"So you are 'with' the hobbit?" Arnot asked also speaking Khuzdul, probably assuming that was one language his translator didn't speak since Dwarves were so secretive about it.
"Yes he is, and I'm not a hobbit!" Rori snapped, her temper overcoming her reticence. "I am a dwarf and you will treat me with respect!"
The others looked a little shocked at her outburst but Thorin was smiling.
"Indeed she is," he confirmed. "Her beard was unfairly removed by an overbearing parent and since she could no longer pass for a male dwarf during transit, we opted for a different disguise."
Suddenly everyone was staring at her but she did her best not to shrink under their gaze. Thorin reached out to take her hand,
"So she is your chosen?" Pele asked.
"She is," he confirmed. "And if I can talk her into it, I would prefer that she remain beardless, I find that I rather like her appearance, odd though it may seem to many of you."
"Why did your father take it?" Mir asked.
"Because I refused his chosen suitor," she explained, wondering if their current acceptance would continue. "He thought that humbling me like this would make me more inclined to see reason."
"Obviously didn't work," Bom said.
"Thankfully, no, but it did lose him his own beard when I discovered what had happened." Thorin said. "Now, I would prefer it if no more was said on the matter."
The other dwarves nodded but conversation was stilted after that. When they got back on the road, Rori rode upfront with Thorin, though since everyone else was quiet or speaking only in a whisper, they weren't inclined to talk much.
They found a place to camp that evening and Rori went off to shave as she usually did. Thorin followed her, knowing that the atmosphere would be upsetting her.
"Things will get better," he said once they were out of earshot of the camp.
"I know," she said, although she was far from certain that she did. She stopped by a large tree which she intended to use for cover.
"If it helps, I think you look lovely."
"But you don't have anything to compare it too," she pointed out.
"I don't need anything to compare it too! I would still want you even if you didn't have a single hair on your head!"
"That's easy to say!" she snapped then took a deep breath to calm herself down before this developed into another fight. "Look, just give me a few minutes, okay? I'll be fine, I promise."
Thorin sighed and headed back to the camp. He arrived back to the sound of laughter which abruptly halted as he came into view.
"I realise that you might think this situation is comical, I can see the funny side myself at times but whatever your feelings, you will behave normally around Rori. This is difficult enough for her as it is. I am still your king."
Duly chastened, the dwarves quickly sobered up.
"We meant no offence," Bom said.
"I'm sure you didn't," Thorin said but he was stopped from continuing when Rori walked past him and into the centre of the camp, she still had a slight stubble growth so she obviously hadn't shaved yet.
"I realise that you are curious," she said, sitting down close to the fire. "I also realise that by hiding my actions they appear shameful, when I actually have nothing to hide." She began to lather up a bar of soap and spread it about her chin. "Feel free to ask me any questions."
Thorin smiled, proud of her. By demystifying the process and the act she was giving them little to talk about behind her back.
They all watched closely while she shaved, seemingly fascinated by the process and when she was finished, she looked each dwarf in the eye.
"Questions?" she asked.
No one spoke for a few moments, though they all had questions.
"Does it hurt?" Mir finally asked, breaking the silence.
"No. I nicked myself a few times in the beginning but I'm getting quite good at it now."
"What does it feel like?" Bom asked.
"I don't know how to describe it really, I haven't felt anything comparable."
"What does your skin feel like?" Arnot asked.
"After I've shaved it's very smooth but it gets rougher as the stubble grows back. It never gets very long though, I shave twice a day in order to keep the charade up."
There were a few more questions which she answered calmly and reasonably. Once the taboo had been broken and everyone seemed to have relaxed, they prepared their evening meal. It turned out that Mir had quite a knack for cooking and prepared a stew for them. It took longer to prepare than usual but was well worth the wait.
For the first time since lunch, conversation flowed freely and it turned out that Pele and Arnot both knew Rori's grandfather.
"He's getting a bit frail now," Pele said. "You couldn't have timed your visit any better."
"He was devastated when you left," Arnot added. "He doesn't talk about you too much these days but after he's had a few pints, he still wonders how you are and what you're up to. He never liked your father much and he always says that he hopes you kept up your love of reading."
"I did," Rori smiled. "I've missed him too, we had so much in common."
After dinner, Arnot asked if she had inherited her grandfathers storytelling ability, to which Thorin grinned and answered for her.
"Indeed she has. Our journey would have been much more tiresome had it not been for her."
They began making requests, did she know the story of the First Battle of Beleriand? What about the Orc War? Or the fable of the dwarf boy who stole his fathers gold?
She only had time for one story that evening but she told the stories they requested (if she knew them) over the rest of the journey. They were often not far from civilisation in this part of Middle Earth and usually got to sleep in a warm bed an average of two nights per week, until finally they began their journey into the Blue Mountains.
