It took me a very, very long time to make this chapter what I considered acceptable. I wanted to do them justice. It has been a difficult few months for me since the last update, so I reviewed and proofread this countless times.
Possible changes loom ahead for Hana and Thorin, with the promise of hope and enduring happiness. They will be tested, however, in more ways than one.
Hana busied herself with household chores and menial tasks while Thorin was away. She was not content being so basically confined, but had no choice until her feet healed. She could not go outside to retrieve water, let alone hunt. It annoyed her, made her antsy. She hoped that keeping her feet wrapped and by limiting her walking for a day or two they would heal quicker. Thorin ventured into town to take her boots to the cobbler to have them resoled. He mentioned to her before he left that morning that he would stop by the apothecary as well, as Hana requested some peppermint and spearmint. Hana doubted its availability because of the time of year, but asked anyway; perhaps he could get some dried. She would use it to mix natural menthol. The mixture would be to numb the sources of pain in her feet, which had been periodically throbbing since she and Thorin went to bed the previous night. As much as Hana wanted to remain barefooted, she relented and donned a pair of Thorin's socks for some warmth. They were indeed loose on her feet, and it was better than wearing nothing in the drafty cold of the smithy. They were itchy, coarse wool and fit her like stockings, but were warm and thick. She stayed off her feet as much as she could.
Thorin was expected back by midday to early afternoon, as promised. After finishing the laundry, she swept the floor a bit and drank three glasses of water and a hot tea. She infused the tea with an overdue dose of wild carrot, mildly irritated with herself that she had slackened a day. Surely, I could not possibly conceive after only two encounters, Hana thought as she drank it. No, I can't. I will be alright. Stop worrying. She felt fatigue taking over soon after, as she had not slept much the night before. She felt increasingly groggy and her vision was blurred as she forced her eyes to remain open. She decided to tidy up a bit and wash out some bowls, thinking work would stave off sleep. As Hana was folding dried linens, she sat on Thorin's bed for a minute or two to think. Hana knew she was not making any substantial progress, on so little rest the previous night. She had slept maybe two consecutive hours at best. Her head was spinning and she allowed herself a short rest, as she lay on her side of the bed. Before Hana knew what to do next, she fell fast asleep. There was no fighting it, and she was dead to the world.
In the realm of her dreams, that afternoon, Hana found herself alone. Trodding the same snow covered woods between her hut and the smithy. It appeared to be daylight, though it was unclear what time of day it was. She was the solitary traveler in an oddly quiet forest. Where Hana was destined was unclear, though somewhere in the deep of her subconscious, she thought she knew. She was certain she knew. Hana's determined steps reinforced this. Her searching eyes noticed the same familiar, large tracks from early on in her journey. As she continued to walk, she saw more of them. It was mute, this environment. There were no sounds to warn her of the predator stalking her. There was no warning at all except the shaking ground behind her. Armed with her bow, not her blades, Hana turned round and struck an arrow behind her in the split second she noticed open jaws, larger than a bear's, coming for her. She aimed not a moment too soon. The beast was a blur of brown, damp fur, and she felt its rancid, hot breath on her back. The air around her smelled of mangy fur, blood, and wet earth. She wasted no time firing another arrow into it, and the Warg spiraled twice with jerking motions before finally falling. Its heavy, rock hard skull hit her with crushing force against her leg, as if she had been clubbed in the femur. Hana saw another Warg in the distance, brought down by an axe-wielding figure, which she deciphered, was Dwalin. He pulled the bloodied weapon out of the cloven skull, and the shaking ground signaled more were approaching. It felt like the tremors of a small earthquake. He concerned met eyes with Hana, studying her. She was familiar to him, but there were still hints of hesitation in his stare. Another figure walked to beside where Dwalin stood, by the freshly slaughtered Warg. It was Thorin. His hands were coated in blood and his glower was even more puzzling than Dwalin's. His face contorted in alarm at the sight of her. He seemed to be yelling a warning at Hana, a warning to someone of more than a casual acquaintance. Hana could not hear it; she heard nothing. He was frantic, his face pleaded with her. Her bow fell to the ground, and she was unaware. Hana lost feeling from her elbows to her hands. Hana realized after what felt like several minutes she was bleeding. She stood petrified, in shock, as Thorin ran towards her.
Hana did not know how long she had been asleep when she awoke with a violent lurch. She gasped aloud as she tried to get her bearings. The smithy was quiet, save for a distant clanking of the hammer. She briefly thought it was the day after. The sun's arms reached long and narrow across the smithy floor, it was the beginnings of the dimmer light of afternoon, probably going on three o'clock. He returned while she was sleeping. Hana curled up in the bed on her right side, in almost a fetal position, and tried to bury the images from her disturbing dream far back in her mind.
She walked timidly out of the bedroom, following the source of the sound. Hana heard nothing else but the sharp, grating clank of metal to metal, no voices at all. She stood in the doorway connecting the smithy living quarters to the forge, and saw Thorin seated on a stool in front of his workbench, holding a copper bowl in his hands. He inspected it towards the base, and rubbed it with the heel of his dirty right hand. Thorin turned it on its side on the bench and began to hit it with his hammer again, in systematic, spaced hits around the rim to even out the mouth. Hana watched him work, admiring his attention to uniformity and detail as he hammered, then rotated to bowl upside down in his hands to ensure he had not missed a spot. He realized she was watching after a few minutes and stopped. He placed the bowl down on the bench and wiped his large hands on his lap as he began to speak.
Thorin simpered bitterly at her. "Once, there was a time I would not have entertained the thought of working with copper. The metals of choice would have been gold or silver," he sighed wistfully, and then glimpsed at the bowl with reflective eyes. "Not something so common as this." He casually gestured to the bowl with this hand. "I reckon it is better than working with nickel. But it was a different time, so long ago…" There was audible sorrow in his breath. "…Before the dragon. I would not have been working," Thorin uttered in a gruff whisper as his glance drifted contemplatively to the side. He shook his head to fling off the memory of his past, as he would a pestering fly. "I hope I did not wake you," he said, as he stretched his arms out and placed his massive hands on his knees. "Forgive me if I did. I know you did not sleep much last night."
Hana shook her head as she mulled over his recollection. "It's fine, Thorin. I needed to wake up. I want to be able to sleep tonight," she said unceremoniously.
Thorin's brows knit together in the center as he noticed her rub her eyes and breath with burdened puffs. Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere between being awake and the dream. Hana idly touched her left elbow and forearm with her right hand. She was agitated.
He nodded at her in understanding, but took note of her distracted demeanor. "I have a few things that might help you with that," Thorin announced, as he got up and walked to her. He stopped for a moment and stood beside her, looked at her with a tired smile, and squeezed her right hand. He then led her to the dining table. Hana saw the spot where she had left him her last note, before she left the deer hide with the tanner. Much had happened between them since. Thorin pulled out a chair and patted the seat for her to sit down, and she obliged. He stood in front of her with his back turned partially away from her, and opened his knapsack.
"I stopped by the cobbler, got there right as he opened his shop. The sole on your right boot is worse than the left, but he suggested both be resoled. I thought it made sense to have them both done at the same time. I hope that is alright."
She nodded at him. "They will be there for a week." He continued to rummage through the knapsack as Hana stretched her lips to the left in annoyance. She did not know what she would do if she were confined indoors for that long.
"I thought as much. I guess I should be grateful he anticipates only a week," she muttered.
"Aye," Thorin agreed as he continued to ruffle through his bag. "The cobbler's not a speedy worker, by any stretch. But he appears knowledgeable, and from the looks of it, a quality craftsman."
Thorin faced her and sat opposite her in another chair. "In the meantime, you can not only wear socks. That will not do. So….(he licked his lips as he built up). "So," he said again, "I got you these. I compared them to the size of your damaged boots and they were similar size. If they do not fit, or you don't like them, I will exchange them." He pulled out a pair of shorter boots, about ankle height. They were slate gray leather with three straps across the tops, and squarish in shape, especially close to the toes. The tops were lined with gray fur, with details of brown and black towards the roots. Probably fox, Hana thought. They were small, less than half the size of the ones he wore. The boots clearly must have cost a fair amount, though not elegant or fancy, they were well made and insulated. Hana felt her anxiety resurface. It would have taken her long to save up for them.
Thorin handed them to her. "Try them on," he said quietly. Hana obliged, and carefully slipped each boot on her foot, flexing her toes inside. She wriggled them all the way in, avoiding contact with her blistered heels and toes as best she could. They fit her just loosely enough that they were comfortable to wear. "You can adjust the straps," he offered as he leaned forward and showed her. "If you need them to fit looser, just fasten them on the outermost loop." Her feet still hurt her with the new boots on, but were much warmer. The soles were several inches thick and non-skid, better for her to walk on than just socks.
Hana looked down at her well-clad feet and turned them in and out as she admired them. Her insides were tossing like choppy water.
"Do you like them?" he asked timidly. Hana focused on her feet a minute more, than regarded him. She fought to quell her rampant emotions. No one had shown such concern for her welfare in years.
"I do, Thorin," Hana said. "Thank you." She moved closer and kissed him. Thorin happily reciprocated, as his palm chilled her right cheek. Their smiles mirrored each other. "I have something else for you, zâyunguh," he said, getting to his next item of business as he pulled away from her and reached into his knapsack again. Thorin pulled out a small, clear glass jar the size of titmouse. "I visited the apothecary," he stated. "I asked her for what you requested, and she said she no mint of any sort."
Hana nodded. "I figured she probably would not," Hana added. "Worth an ask." She shrugged. Thorin concurred silently with a nod. "I brought you what she had. Calendula," he said resignedly. "Will it do?" He held the jar out to her between his right thumb and pointer finger and she accepted it. He saw her study the jar, then unscrew the lid and sniff it.
"She said it would be a remedy for the blisters, and would help numb the pain. Especially on the most tender areas," Thorin said informatively, studying Hana's facial reaction as she turned the jar in her fingers. Hana needed a few moments before she was ready to speak. She quietly put the jar down on the table beside them and glimpsed it a second, then shifted in her chair and stood up. Hana took two deep, full breaths. Thorin stood up as well and before he could make another move, she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could around his waist. Hana pressed her right cheek against his chest and inhaled him as he held her close. His scent, mixed with the metal smell of the forge was strong. It was as much a comfort to her as any pain relief.
"Many thanks for going to the trouble….and expense." She clutched him so tightly he moved his left arm to her crown and rubbed her scalp with his fingers, as sort of a release. His right held her back. Hana's jumbled sleep schedule put her emotions especially on edge, all she wanted at that moment was for him to hold her.
"Please…. Please do not speak of it, Hana. I wanted to. I want to give you so much more. You are my athune, remember. I cannot quantify what you have done for my life, for my heart. I can never…never equal that." He spoke with a frown.
"Yes, you can," she said, muffled against his tunic. Then she turned her face forward directly to his. "You have for me, Thorin." She swallowed the lump in her throat as they beheld at each other, then Thorin held the jar of calendula in front of her.
"You should put some of this on soon," he stated importantly.
"I will," Hana replied. "I am going to mix it with some beeswax. It will make it more applicable and bindable." Thorin wordlessly agreed with a thoughtful nod.
He watched as Hana walked over to her belongings and searched. She returned promptly to her seat with a medium sized, opaque green glass jar, mortar, and pestle. Hana measured out about a teaspoon of beeswax and one half a teaspoon of the calendula, then systematically blended the concoction in the mortar. Thorin sat opposite her, and watched her as she worked, then shifted his stare to his lap. Hana was aware of his restlessness. Not a word was spoken for several minutes, all that was heard was the grating of the clay pestle and the strengthening wind of late afternoon. She retrieved bandages from her pack. They were nothing but long strips of cloth from old clothes, but they were clean. Hana resumed her spot in the chair and removed the short boots and socks.
She grimaced as the fabric of the socks stuck to the wet, tissue – like skin of the popped blisters. Thorin could not help but squint slightly at the sight of her feet. They looked less horrendous then they had the night they returned to the smithy, but the blisters on her heels were revolting. They were each the size of the bottom of an inkwell, and skin in the center of each was bright pinkish red, slimy, and raw. The wet skin was marbled with maroon striations of coagulated blood.
"They are revolting. I know." Hana grumbled.
He watched as Hana assessed her feet, and how she was going to apply the pungent lemon yellow mixture. Thorin sighed broodingly, then spoke. "It might be easier if you let me do it," he offered. He knew she would not be keen on the idea. "It's hard for you see what you are doing, on your heel and the bottoms of your feet." He considered her with brows raised, as a knowledgeable parent might a child. He was trying to reason with her.
Hana kept looking at the mortar, then at each foot. She wiped a loose strand of hair back from her face and knew what he said made some sense. "I will be gentle, I promise," he said quietly. His facial expression softened, then spread a towel on his lap.
Hana managed a hint of a smile back at Thorin as he prompted her for a foot with his open right hand. She extended her left at him, and handed him the mortar, which he set to his right on the table. Thorin dipped his two first fingers in the mixture and applied the substance to her heel. Even though she had just mixed it, the harsh winter air kept it cold.
Hana immediately flinched as he made contact. He paused, as if he anticipated her sudden reaction, and waited for her to relax slightly. Then, with precise care, he coated the blisters on the sole, and beneath her big toe. He took a bandage and gently looped it around her left foot, and inched a clean sock of his over. He rubbed her covered foot affectionately. She stared back at him with adoration as he repeated for the right foot, all the while trying not to push hard on her wounds with his thick, heavy fingers. When he finished, he wiped the calendula and beeswax substance on the towel. Hana sat with her stumpy, wooly sock dressed feet on his lap, and he held her ankles in his hands. He just stared down at them for a few minutes, wordless.
She did not say anything at first, either. Thorin took the new boots and slowly put them on each of her feet. He neatly pulled each trouser leg over the tops. He glanced at her as if to announce he was done, and she thanked him silently with a timid smile. Thorin gently pulled her legs across his lap and moved in closer to her, and kissed her quickly with a peck. Hana pressed her cold fingers onto his hands until they interlocked with his.
"Thank you," she said faintly.
He shook his head at her, his eyes closed as their noses touched. "Hana, I…."
Hana studied his widened, alert eyes. The very energy in his glance conveyed the palpable seriousness in his purpose. She was beginning to feel nervous at what he was going to say, but they were both interrupted. Their nerves were getting the better of them. Whatever he had to say, it was far more serious than boots or herbs.
A hearty, determined knock sounded at the smithy door.
"…wanted to ask you something. Iklifumun," Thorin muttered under his breath as he considered the knock. His face spoke of who would have the audacity to break his concentration. "Who in blazes could that be?" he bellowed indignantly as he turned his eyes to the door. Then the urgent voice on the other side of the door provided an unmistakable answer.
"Thorin?" Balin's voice asked from behind the door. Thorin sighed and closed his eyes, as Hana rubbed his hands with hers warmly in an effort to calm him. He faced her.
"This isn't over," he stated as he looked her in both eyes and squeezed her hands back. "I suppose I had better answer that."
Thorin let out a put upon sigh as his heavy feet stomped across the floor to the door. Balin met him with a firm handshake and weary smile. His smile broadened when he spotted Hana a short distance away. She waved at him in greeting.
"Am I interrupting?" Balin asked as he wiped his boots in the doorway. Thorin tried to silence him with purposefully widened eyes. He did not answer, but Balin could tell by the look on Thorin's face and Hana's flushed cheeks that he had most definitely interrupted. "I shan't be long," he said, harried.
Balin proved his statement false, as he stayed for supper, and told Thorin of his nephews. The three of them were seated at Thorin's table. Balin sat on the left, Thorin on the end, each with large pint sized mugs of ale. Hana quietly sat on the right side of the table facing Balin, with her pipe in her mouth. She acted as though she was paying dim attention to their conversation, but she took in every single word.
"They may head back to the settlement at Ered Luin," Balin announced, His tone suggested mild reserve, not wanting to draw Thorin's ire. Instead, Thorin cast his eyes from Balin to the table. His right pointer and middle fingers slid slowly from his mug almost to the edge of the tabletop. The absentminded motion read as more tense and thoughtful than angry. Hana blew out smoke through rigid lips, as she met Balin's eyes. Neither of them spoke first amid the increasingly tangible tension.
"Permanently?" Thorin asked, still focused on the tabletop.
Balin's nod preceded his answer. "They mentioned it might be a permanent move. Work is not easy to find up here. Unless," Balin eyed at Thorin unswervingly. "You happen to be a skilled smith, or a goatherd." He smirked. "Those descriptions do not really apply to your nephews, laddie."
Thorin's brows pricked upward ever so slightly. He managed a wry hint of a smirk. Balin continued. "They will likely come and speak with you about this in the near future. They would seek your permission before going," he added.
He took his time before giving his reply. "I admire that. I would hope they would converse with me first. Though….I am not their father," Thorin said.
Balin nodded, anxious. "True, but they see you as one. They seek your blessing and approval," he said. "As I said, they will come see you about it in due time."
Thorin frowned in deep thought at Balin from his seat and cleared his throat. "Mmm. I will ready myself for it, I suppose, whatever they decide. I have something I must discuss with you as well." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, he shook his head distractedly as he spoke, then locked eyes with Balin as he finished. "I seek your blessing. And…(his voice was breathy) that of the others."
Hana took that as her cue to retire for the evening. She put her pipe down carefully on the table and placed her hand on Thorin's right shoulder. "I will leave you two alone to talk further," she said softly. Thorin touched her hand and nodded silently. He did not break his glance at Balin. "Goodnight, Balin." Hana smiled at him as he sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him. He momentarily turned his attention away from Thorin and smiled back at her with his impish, knowing glint. "Pleasant sleep to you, Hana." Hana quietly padded along to Thorin's bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Balin left late that night. Hana waited for Thorin in his room and changed the bandages on her feet after undressing for the night. He did not come in immediately after she heard the smithy door close, signaling Balin's departure. She waited about fifteen minutes, then ventured out to see what kept Thorin.
Hana stepped closer to where he stood, beside the bench under the window. His arms were folded, hands under his elbows as he stared blankly out ahead. She took a seat beside where he stood, in her shift with her hair in a loose ponytail hanging over her right shoulder. His steady blinks indicated he was aware of her presence, but preoccupied.
"You all right?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned back. She regretted not putting on her cloak in the drafty night air. Thorin was still lost in thought. It was evident on his face. He was conflicted about something.
Thorin noticed what she was wearing and eyed it a moment, then looked back at her face. He waited before answering her.
"Thorin?" Hana's eyes were cast upward at him. He watched her with determination. The slight raise of her brows at him prompted an answer.
He shook his head with feigned indifference at her question. "I am fine," he answered, his low voice the register of a tolling, weathered city bell. "Just thinking. About the future. On what Balin and I conferred over this evening."
Hana nodded and remained focused on him. "And? Can you discuss any of it?"
He studied the floor as he shifted the weight on his feet. "There will probably be…changes ahead. For me." He let out an agitated breath. "For my kin and friends. And…for you." His head gave a contemplative shake. "My nephews may move to Ered Luin. Permanently. The others may follow them there. Ered Luin holds more opportunity than Eldfell. Balin asked me to speak with them about it." Hana looked at Thorin with slightly creased brows. She shifted her arms out in front of her, hands clasped together on her lap.
"Would you consider going as well?" Hana asked. She showed no brimming emotion in her mien, just mild concern. Inwardly, she did not know what to think.
Thorin took a seat beside her on the bench. He faced Hana, expressionless. "I would not rule it out. There's a settlement there, a hamlet. Smaller than Eldfell, I hear. There's more work for my kind, however. I could have a more prosperous life there – we (he motioned toward her then back at himself with his pointer finger)could have a more prosperous life…together."
We. The word resounded in her ears as she listened and thought. "Sounds like you have some weighty decisions ahead," she said. Hana stared at her lap for several moments. She took deep breaths. Her heart began pounding beneath her ribs violently, as it did when her nerves got the better of her.
Thorin took her right hand. "I will keep you informed," he answered, as he ran his thumb cross her cracked knuckles.
"I don't want to make any more wrong decisions," he murmured.
He studied her, seeking reassurance. Hana arched her brows at him as she spoke. "We will continue to make wrong decisions, Thorin, as long as we are alive. We are flawed individuals." She shook her head as she emphasized her point. "But, what we can do…is learn from our mistakes. Try our very best not to hurt those who we care for." She finished by eyeing him with penetrating focus. He eyes implored her, anguished.
"Everyone has doubts, regrets," she said, as she touched his face, then his crown. He nodded absentmindedly, his face parallel to the floor. "I regret not telling my father why I left so abruptly, without explanation, after all he did for me. But, I hope, before I die, I can tell him why, and that he will bestow on me forgiveness."
Thorin absorbed her words and looked back at her. Hana's cheeks were flushed. "There will be more times in the future I will ask for yours," he said quietly, his face written with a mixture of shame and apprehension.
She bit the inside of her lower lip. "Likewise," Hana said softly, with a wry chuckle of acceptance and shrug of her shoulders. "Of course there will be. That is love, Thorin."
Hana's feet were on the mend soon after, with twice daily applications of the calendula salve and covering with loose fitting socks. She did not see much of Thorin for two days following Balin's visit. He spent from sunup to nightfall holed up in the forge, working on four medium length, nicked blades belonging to an old furrier. The short, gonging of metal and pounding of wood were mostly what she heard during the course of the day. Hana groggily told him before he set to work one morning she would be out, in search of small game and wood. Enough snow melted to finally see the sparsely grassy turf beneath, much to their relief. Hana did not wander far from the smithy, partly because of the snow, and also because her shorter, gray boots were not fit for long walks. A short hunting range and her slowed speed meant Hana was limited to rabbits or squirrels, if she was lucky. The edge of a small but dense thicket at the end of Pigot Lane would yield some small foul. At least Hana hoped it might.
She returned by about half past four in the afternoon, as the sun's light waned. Hana quietly walked in to the smithy, and set her pack down beside the door and immediately bolted it. The sounds of the forge had stopped, save for a repetitive grating sound. Moments later, his heavy footsteps grew louder. Thorin emerged from the forge, dirty and tired. Through his weariness, the sight of Hana, laying down her bow and peeling off her gloves, elicited a worn-out smile. Hana was glad to see him.
He wiped his hands on a small, stained towel that hung from his belt before touching her. He cupped her elbows and their foreheads pressed together. Both stood together in silence, savoring their reunion, before speaking.
"How was your day?" Hana asked as Thorin pulled her against him and their arms enclosed around each other.
He heaved a slow, raspy breath. "Busy," he replied after a deliberate pause. "I told myself I would stop when you returned."
Hana touched both his cheeks and kissed his mouth. He spoke into her lips. "Tell me something good, Hana. How was your day?"
"It was more fruitful than I expected it to be," Hana answered him brightly. "We will not be eating squirrel today. Maybe not tomorrow, either."
Thorin looked at her, puzzled, not getting her meaning. "I bagged two partridges." She grinned at him proudly. "I felt slightly guilty for a second because they were slow targets. Beats squirrel, wouldn't you agree?" Hana's cheeks were rosy from the brisk outdoors.
He laughed, tired but heartily. "Undoubtedly, yes."
After she cleaned the foul and cooked it, Hana and Thorin sat together at the table for their evening meal. She also served half a loaf of her rye bread. The sounds of their eating overlapped with the fire and rattling of the wind. Hana sat wearing nothing on her feet, periodically flexing her freed toes. Her feet felt much better; the blisters were on the way to healing.
"I think another weather front is moving in soon," Hana stated as Thorin looked at her over his cup. "The wind has been picking up in strength all day. They clouds are laden to the point of bursting."
Thorin nodded calmly. "Aye….I think we might be lucky and get rain, no snow. That is my hope, at least. Hana, there is something I need to discuss with you. Something I should have mentioned earlier."
She set down her bread and her chest rose under the bodice of her dress with tense breath. "I am listening," she said hesitantly.
Thorin took a long drink, then set his cup down with a thud. "Soon begins Darûn Adùruth. In less than a fortnight."
"Darûn Adùruth?" Hana repeated after him, befuddled. The fire in the hearth emitted a distracting pop.
"Yes. Time of mourning, is what it means. This begins a two month period of remembrance."
"Remembrance?" Hana said aloud, oddly relieved.
"Mmmm. Dwarves from all seven kingdoms observe this time to remember the suffering of our people from wars and the misfortune it brought upon us. To honor those who have been lost. We show this by retelling the stories passed down through the years, in word and in song. Also by sobering our…. behavior. Fasting. All our kind is required to commit. To disregard it would be scathingly disrespectful to our ancestors."
Hana squinted at him, confused, sitting very still. "You mean, no feasting? No indulging? " She asked quizzically, curling her fingers round her cup. "It must be a hard commitment for Dwarves to follow. Especially where food and drink are concerned." Hana was astonished, and not joking.
Thorin's brows arched ever so slightly. His eyes were aimed low, distant as he prepared to speak again. "Yes, exactly. It is extremely hard. But it does not stop here. Abstinence, out of respect, must be practiced in all aspects of life. From excessive eating, drinking, merry making…. and love making." His eyes focused on hers again.
Their eyes were fixed, unblinking, on each other. Hana waited to digest his statement before speaking.
"I see." Her brows reached upward as she thought, and she let out a deep sigh.
He did not offer apology or sympathy, no words at all. Thorin poured himself some ale from a flask in the center of the table, and drank the whole serving without stopping. He closed his eyes as he contained his angst, groaned and wiped his beard with a cloth.
"I am not happy about it. It is…something I must do, however."
Hana's hands were folded in her lap. He did not look away, just awaited her response. He silently tried to decipher what was racing through her mind. The loose locks of that clung to the sides of her face also sidetracked him.
"I understand, Thorin. It is your tradition, I must and will respect it. It will be hard, but that is life."
Thorin noticed she was finished eating, as was he. He stood up, as to shake off the topic of discussion. He walked over to where Hana sat and stood before her. He followed her form with his eyes, from her knees, to her hips, to the curves of her chest, to her suprasternal notch, ending on her green eyes. "It is. But not yet." He spoke with intentional, slowed speed. "Nothing…could ease these weary bones better than lying in a hot bath with you."
Hana's hands were in her lap. Thorin indicated the water heating over the fire. "What say you?" He asked slyly.
Hana made him wait a bit before answering him. "I say yes," She said with a knowing smile.
Thorin made six trips outside into the frigid darkness, each time returning with his largest kettle filled to the top with snow. He brought her two armfuls of wood, in case more was needed. Hana systematically boiled each kettleful over the fire, and Thorin helped her carefully tip the water into his wooden tub, which he dragged in front of the fireplace from the forge. It was ovular in shape, and the edge dipped downward in a slant. The heating process took them nearly two hours. Hana lightly scented the water with some ground lavender. The last time she had taken a hot bath was before she arrived in Eldfell, almost over a year prior. And this would be the first time she ever bathed with someone as an adult.
Hana stretched out her back in a lengthy motion, and reached her arms above her head until she felt her joints shake. She yawned and pressed her shoulders backwards, they had grown stiff. The hot water in the tub beckoned, her eyes glazed over slightly as she became lost in the lapping flames.
Thorin's slow footsteps sounded as he approached her from behind. "Are you sure we can both fit in there?" she asked him sluggishly, as he watched the tub from over her shoulder. He kissed her cheek.
He chuckled. "Yes, I think we can," he replied.
"I'm going to be rather forward, Hana," Thorin said as he began to unravel her bound hair.
"Oh?" she asked. She shook the long dark brown tendrils out, and tried to ruffle it loose with her hands.
He nodded. "I've been wanting to see you out of that drab frock all evening."
Her lips spread into a smile immediately. She turned around and faced him. Hana sized him up with a wily smirk.
"Well, then take off your clothes, my king," she commanded him. "It would be a pity if we let this bath grow cold."
"Yes, it would be," he answered. Thorin heeded her instruction, as he pulled off this tunic slowly, then dropped his trousers and undergarments. He stepped out of them, his muscled, taught flesh tempted her. He walked over behind her to the tub and stepped in. The hotness of the water pleasantly tingled as he slunk into the water, awaiting her. Thorin tipped his head back on the edge of the tub and turned it to the right, watching her hungrily as she undressed in front of him.
"Someday, you will not have to wear that," he said lazily as the dress fell to the ground in a heap, followed by her underclothes. Hana stepped gingerly into the bath with him; she slunk down into the water, between his legs, the back of her head against his sternum. The water level rose after she climbed in. His wet hair stuck to his shoulders, the wet hair on his chest pressed into her soft, submerged back flesh. "I will see you have the finest garments available," he whispered. He scratched her scalp lightly with his thick fingers. "Fine furs, vibrant colors," he murmured as her wet hair wove through his digits. "A crown for your beautiful head. Nothing less for you, zâyunguh." Thorin spoke into the top of her head lovingly as his fingers moved to her arms. His fingertips lightly touched her elbows, then his hands gathered around her abdomen and met in the center, near her navel. Hana felt completely relaxed, sublimely settled, as they pushed against each other in the hot water. Both of them languished happily in the bath, eyes closed as they held each other. Hana could have stayed in the tub for most of the night. Her skin and body tingled, smothered against Thorin's, enveloped between his knees, her back and backside up against his chest and male members. This will be a long abstinence, she thought.
"I'd say this is well worth the effort," Thorin purred against Hana's cheek. He kissed her repeatedly. "Wouldn't you?" Thorin asked. He wanted to make the serene, tender time together last for the coming sixty days. All was quiet except for the sounds of wind outside, the fire, their breathing, and the occasional sound of shifting in the bathwater. Hana let out a short hissing chuckle as she smiled. Her hair stuck to his wet chest as she turned her head to the right and absentmindedly contemplated their legs, side by side.
"I most definitely would," Hana replied. "I can think of no greater reward after a hard day."
She felt him breath hard behind her, his chest contracted against her back. Thorin examined her scalp, about two inches from where her hairline began behind her right ear. He was eyeing a thin, long line of a scar, which extended from behind her ear towards the base of her neck, where the wisps of her hair began. She felt him run over the scar with his calloused fingertips.
"Where did you get this?" He asked, as he eyed the mottled, scarred skin. It was not visible when she was sitting or standing upright. No hair grew over the faded mark.
"Hana?"
"Where did I get what?" She replied drowsily, as rested her inner elbows on his knees.
"This scar? It does not look like the result of an accidental injury," Thorin said as his hot breath blew into her crown.
A burdened breath preceded her answer. "It was not accidental. That was deliberate."
"How?"
Hana turned around and sat up, the water churned as she sat on his lap. She enclosed her legs around him, surrounding him as her thighs pressed into the sides of his rib cage.
Hana's left hand moved to his right shoulder. "I got it from another woman. I was on the road and she dealt me the wound. Then she robbed me." She spoke nonchalantly as Thorin's palms, then fingers pressed into her tailbone. He frowned, troubled as he listened.
"It happened a couple years ago. I had the last word, however." She pursed her lips together in triumph.
"Oh?" Thorin answered.
"I kicked her in the mouth after she struck me. Caught a quick enough glance to see her lying on the ground I think with a one or two lost teeth." Thorin's smirk grew, as he flashed his teeth at her in a grin. "I'm sure she regretted tangling with you," he said.
Hana nodded briskly. "Damn right she did." Her fingertips touched his chest, about where his fourth rib lay. Through his chest hair, she could see a crescent shaped scar. It appeared to be an older scar, just below Thorin's sternum. Layers of scar tissue had caused small striations in the tone. It was as long as her middle finger, and just as wide. Thorin watched her as she touched him. Her eyes moved from the scar to his, her sudden silence prompted an explanation.
Thorin glanced at her fingers touching it as he relayed the story. "That…is from a an Orc blade. Many years ago." His deep, baritone voice became quickly somber.
She scowled, her eyes enlarged. "I was merely grazed by it." He held both Hana's hands in his and their fingers interweaved as he sought to ease her worry. "I left him with a far more serious and lasting wound."
The whites of her eyes reflected her horror; her outer arches of her brows were hidden under her flowing hair.
"The filth lost his arm to me."
They washed with the newly mixed soap, and finally got once they realized sleep was overtaking them. Thorin got in bed next to her as she lay on her side, watching him. He kissed her gently. "This will be the longest, most difficult abstinence of my life."
"We can still touch each other, can't we?" Hana asked, with mild concern as he slunk under the covers beside her on his back. He did not answer her right away.
"Thorin?" She was growing impatient. Hana propped herself up on her elbow. "We can kiss at least?"
"Yes," Thorin answered. "I would not survive this period if I couldn't touch you at all. Of course we can touch and kiss. Just….nothing beyond that. The rule is, abstinence from excess in all forms, and no activity that fulfills or leads to temptation." He stare shifted from her to the bedroom door as he continued. "You know, I have always accepted this time of year as solemn, always respected tradition and not thought twice about it. I suppose…when you become accustomed to the single life it is not really a heavy sacrifice. But now…. now, is so different."
He reached up and touched her face by her hairline, and ran his fingertips down as slow as could be, stopping when he got to her clavicle.
"How long did you say this period lasted?" Hana asked, as his fingers lazily caressed her jaw. She lifted her head off of the pillow and lay her head on his chest.
Thorin swathed her in both of his thick arms, and ran them both up and down her back.
"Two full moons must past, so almost two months. We cannot make love for almost two months," he replied.
Hana groaned slightly, turned her face to his and wrinkled the bridge of her nose with displeasure. "And when does it start?"
He rubbed his fingers on the base of her spine. "Next full moon," said Thorin glumly. "Late next week, I expect. I will be counting the days until it is over."
Hana ran her palm up his chest over his nightshirt, onto his sternum. "I will be counting too, Thorin. Hour by hour."
One week and a day had passed since Balin paid Hana and Thorin a visit at the smithy, and Hana decided to visit the cobbler to pick up her repaired boots. Thorin left before sunrise to visit with and converse with his kin, and left Hana a note saying so. He wrote he would be back by late afternoon, nightfall at the latest.
She passed the tanner's shop, which appeared to be open. The road was damp and muddy with the moisture from the recent rains mixed with residual melting snow. Hana watched her step, as not to ruin her new gray short boots. Though her heels and soles were still sore, she was finally able to resume walking normally. The cobbler's shop was open, and she ventured in. On the counter was a small, aged handled bell. It was cast iron, and rough to the touch. Beside it read a note:
Ring for service. Your patience is appreciated.
Hana surveyed the room and saw no one, so she rang it. A tall ginger haired man, clad in a dirty black apron, emerged from an adjoining side room. He appeared to be in his mid forties. There were flecks of gray in his hair and beard, and his eyes were a pale, watery blue. Hana asked him for the boots, and it took him a moment to recall.
"I did not drop them off, a Dwarf did. The account would be under the name Thorin, or my name, Hana." Her head was cocked to the right side, in thought, as the cobbler visibly tried to remember. He gazed out ahead of himself with pursed lips, then suddenly raised his right pointer finger.
"Ah, yes miss," he said after a minute, emphatically nodding his head. "Now I remember. Just a moment, please. I will double check in the book and bring them out to you."
Hana did not have coin to pay with, so she hoped the man would accept trade instead. He returned presently with her tall boots in hand. When she reached into her cloak for her beautifully treated deer hide, he shook his head at her.
"No need for that, miss. The fellow who first brought the boots to me already tendered payment." He finished with a kindly smile.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Aye, it's been taken care of. If those give you any trouble, I'll get them sorted for you, miss."
Hana shook her head incredulously. She would have words with Thorin about it later. Hana turned each boot over and observed the new soles; the craftsmanship was impeccable. She could wear them without worry now. "Many thanks, sir," she said to the cobbler as she made her exit. He gave her a short nod and waved his hand in recognition.
Thorin returned close to four in the afternoon. They shared a small afternoon meal, and Thorin remained indoors as he watched Hana sit on the floor, her legs crossed. He was tired from the day's earlier journey and quietly worked alongside her in the main part of the smithy. She was mixing some opaque, pale green substance in a small mortar. He stood with his back to the fire, his arms folded in his trademark decisive pose, his hair bound back in a messy half ponytail. He watched her fingers carefully stir the mixture; it smelled of rosemary.
"What's that you're mixing?" he queried, his tone solemn. Hana wondered if her lack of conversation most of the day had offended him, but both were quite used to being in each other's presence and working in a wordless but respectful coexistence. He was not the most talkative, either. Perhaps he was sullen because of the impending period of abstinence. She tried to read him, and the right, then left corners of her lips curved upward in a smile.
"More soap," she answered plainly. "You know, I've used it on you before. You doing all right? Maybe you should rest a bit."
Thorin's eyes pierced hers as he nodded. "I may later. Can you stop briefly? I…want to show you something." She obliged his request as she put the mortar on the floor beside her, and gave him her full attention.
Thorin eyed Hana pensively. "Have you ever seen an emerald? I mean, one just hewn from the earth?" His question perplexed her. She had seen gemstones before, set into rings, pendants, and the hilts of swords. But that was all. It was an odd conversation starter. "Not just hewn from the earth, no," she said meekly. His face was set on hers, his eyes alight. "Wait here a minute," Thorin announced. Something had suddenly triggered excitement in him. He got up and strode to the bedroom, then returned presently, holding a small silver box. It resembled a tiny reliquary. He opened it and slowly lifted the lid, and Hana looked at him curiously. He heaved a deep breath and took something out, his face softening. In his hand was a gold ring, bezel set with three square, cabochon emeralds. The largest one was in the center. Ornate geometric designs were etched into the metal, featuring a hexagonal motif. The shape reminded Hana of honeycomb. Thorin took her right hand and put the ring in it, bowing his head at her in a prompt to look at it. She took the ring, turning it in her fingertips as the light caught the gems. They were a pure, bright green, the color of the freshest spring grass she would sometimes walk on barefoot as a child. "It's exquisite," she said, admiring the artistry. He watched her admire it, turning it in her small hands. "It was my mother's," he murmured softly. Hana looked up at him. "She gave it to me when I was quite young. (Hana tried it on her thumb, the only finger it came close to fitting). Thorin took an audibly deep, shaky breath. "Her instructions were to give it to my wife, if I ever took one."
He spoke to his lap. "So now…I am giving to her." Then Thorin resumed his firm stare at her. "If she will have me, that is."
Hana stopped looking at the ring and eyeballed him. She said nothing, just sat, fixated on Thorin's eyes, completely immovable. She opened her mouth to speak but he did instead. Her stomach churned like hands balling bread dough inside her.
"I have wanted to ask you for days. Marry me, Hana. I want no other. Grant me the privilege of having you for my yasith, my queen. I want to give you the life you deserve, you by my side, in a proper home, with our children. I will honor you, zâyunguh, for the rest of my days." He was so intensely serious, it was a mix of cross, scared, and alert all at once. Hana did not know how to go about answering him, as he gave the impression he might be sick right in front of her. She was a bit surprised he was so overwrought; they had both seen each other exposed, in many ways. Why was he afraid of this? Did he think she would refuse him? He was suddenly vulnerable to her. Hana exhaled loudly, shakily.
"Is this what you were going to say to me that day Balin came? When he knocked on your door?" she asked.
Thorin exhaled tensely. "Yes."
"I will wait for you to think on it. You needn't answer me now." His tone turned vaguely sorrowful.
Hana pursed her lips as she began to answer. He began to shake his head at her before she uttered any words, knowing what she would mention next. "Thorin, I am low born." She looked down and sighed, then up at him. "I'm not fit to be queen of anything. Except maybe dirt." She showed him her dirty fingernails and scoffed at herself.
He leaned forward and held her hands in his. He spoke with such a pained, stressed voice Hana wondered if she offended him. She felt him breathe on her as he spoke. Thorin touched her fingers as he observed her short, square nails with a chuckle.
He positioned his hand near hers to show his dirty fingernails as well. "That is the sign of a hard worker. You are strong, determined, loyal. A fighter. I noticed those qualities in you immediately." His chest contracted in and out through his noticeable torment, as he observed their hands together. Then he began to lose himself in her verdant irises. "I want you as my wife. Only you. For life."
"What about Ered Luin?" Hana said through their touching lips as thumb ran across the woven sections in her plait.
"That is postponed, for now. The others are going to think about it longer, as am I."
"You're waiting?" Hana asked.
He stared at her, short of breath. "Yes, of course. Because this is what I want now. You."
"What if you return to Erebor someday?" She sputtered, shaking her head .
'Then you will accompany me. I am old, Hana. I no longer have the luxury of time. I have denied myself much in my life, for the good of others, or out of guilt. I won't deny myself this. I won't deny myself a life with you."
She fought with every bit of willpower she could muster to reign in the welling tears. "You don't have to wait. My answer is yes, I will," she answered, through her short breaths. "I will marry you, Thorin. It would be my honor."
They embraced happily, as Hana straddled his lap and his arms held her tight. He caressed her nose with his, his smile stretching wider than she had ever seen. They were rapt, utterly.
"Did you say children?" she asked as she backed slightly away from him and eyed him anxiously.
He was beaming at her. "Yes," he answered, with emphasis. "It didn't offend you, did it?"
Hana blushed immediately. "No. I just…I must admit, the prospect of parenthood scares me. I know nothing about it."
Hana pondered the prospect, as she glanced off to her right side. Thorin could see the wheels of thought turning in as she sighed. After a few seconds she directed her eyes back at him.
"We will learn. Will you consider it, Hana? Please?" he asked.
"I will think about it, yes," Hana replied. She gave him her best convincing glance and a anxious simper as he grinned at her. Thorin laughed and looked down at his lap, then back at her, blissful.
"Very well. First things first. I shan't overwhelm you, Hana. I'm sorry." Their foreheads touched, eyes closed.
Hana pulled him against her and they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. "It's alright," she whispered. They held each other the blessed silence, the minutes laden. Their voices were quiet, but their hearts were dancing for joy. There was nothing to interrupt them this time, save for the remaining chores of the day.