Author's Note: I just wanted to make a couple quick notes for all my readers. First, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! You have no idea how excited I am to read your wonderful comments. Second, I was on a three day break from work when I started writing this story. I now have a few days in a row where I will have really long days at work. I will try to get at least one chapter per day posted. I have another break coming up starting the 22nd. I hope to get my productivity up during that time. Continue reading and reviewing, and I shall do my best to get more chapters posted for your enjoyment. Thank you all again!
The shop was sweltering in the heat from the massive forge fires. Sweat stung as is ran into the numerous invisible nicks and scratches across Lina's face. Her arms burned as she swung her hammer again and again, pounding the metal before her into the proper shape. But neither the burning of the sweat nor her muscles bothered her much. They rarely did anymore. That pain was so much a part of her life now that it was almost worrying to her when she did not come home tired and aching.
The pain was the only thing that kept her from the despair that gripped so many of her people. The pain meant she was still alive.
Driven from Erebor, the dwarves had become a lost and broken people. They dwelt now in the Dunland, barely surviving. Early on the journey, Lina had offered what money her mother had kept from their last day in Dale to King Thror to be used for the benefit of the people. Many others had followed her example. The money was put to common use in buying food and supplies. What little money the dwarves could bring in often went straight into food or clothes. They were just barely surviving.
The shear poverty they dwelt in now had driven King Thror to go off into the mountains with only a single companion. No one was quite sure where he had gone, but he'd been away for several weeks without word as to his whereabouts. Thrain ruled in his father's place until Thror would return. All the dwarves who had followed him in his wanderings worried for his safety.
As for Lina, Lina had taken over the position of armorer when Tion had died in an Orc attack a few years earlier. Her skills were highly valued by the dwarves, and it was said those who died wearing her armor were not wearing it properly. The strength of her arm alone kept the ragged dwarven army alive in the midst of battle. Armor purchased from cheap dealers who passed through often failed at crucial moments, ending more than one life too soon. Her wares were at least durable.
It had been nearly twenty years since the wandering dwarves had settled in Dunland. The rapid dwindling of numbers had forced a break down in their society. Many of the survivors had chosen to rejoin their kin under King Thror's brother in the Iron Hills. Lina had chosen to stay with the royal family. However, too few dwarves lived in this band for the society to function as it once had. The royals were no longer held so much apart from the rest of their people. Thorin and Frerin, Thrain's sons, were seen frequently at work among the people. Frerin spent most of his time with a few close friends trapping what game he could to supplement the meager stores of food the people had or working with the fletchers to replace the arrows lost in battle. Thorin often spent time making and repairing swords, knives, and axe heads in the same shop Lina used. As it was the only forge in the settlement, Lina often worked in close proximity to the dwarven prince. Thorin had become the only trained blacksmith the band of dwarves now possessed. Lina had become a passable weapon smith, but as she'd had no training in the art of weapon making, she often left that job to the prince.
Today Lina was thankful Thorin had other matters to attend to. The aura of strength and pride never diminished, no matter how downtrodden the prince and his people were. Those icy blue eyes still captivated her, forcing her entire being to still. Of late those eyes had taken to haunting her dreams. For all that she told herself she would not, could not, become attracted to the prince, she was failing miserably in the execution of her will. He still drew her as a moth to flame. The sensations she felt when trapped in his eyes grew steadily stronger with each passing year, never fading or faltering. She no longer feared that no male would ever choose her as his bride as she had once many years before, for that did not matter in the least now. Lina, like other women before her, was falling for someone she could not have. Therefore it was most unlikely that she would ever wed. No other being Lina had set eyes upon gave her the same feelings. No other could capture her attention the way Thorin had.
Thorin rarely spoke to her, though his eyes were often upon her. Lina most often heard his voice when he sang quietly over some sword or axe head. The song was always the same. It was one which had appeared within a few weeks of Erebor's destruction. It seemed to fuel many of the dwarves onward.
Lina often found herself singing the words as well, longing for her lost city. It calmed her, focusing her mind on the task at hand. But never did she sing in front of anyone else. Her voice was not one that was particularly suited to song. The dragon smoke she had inhaled while fleeing Erebor had permanently damaged her voice, not that she had any great skill before. Her voice was simply worse now.
Nevertheless, she sang, the ringing of her hammer against the metal punctuating each phrase.
"The pines were roaring on the heights, the wind was moaning in the night. The fire was red, it flaming spread, the trees like torches blazed with light," Lina sang. Her throat caught around those words as they always did. She could still see the town of Dale burning. She could still hear the terrified screams of her people as they fled Erebor. The pain for her, as it was for many of the survivors, was still fresh and searing.
She continued with the song as she finished shaping the helm before her.
"With foes ahead, behind us dread, beneath the sky shall be our bed, until at last our toil be passed, our journey done, our errand sped." Lina was startled into silence as a far deeper voice joined hers.
"We must away! We must away! We ride before the break of day!"
She slowly set the completed helm down on the anvil before her and turned to face the one who had joined her.
"My Lord," she murmured, bowing her head. Thorin stood just inside the entrance of the forge, watching her intently.
"You have a captivating voice," he informed her, leaning against a supporting pillar.
Lina blushed, but did not respond. Instead she tried to focus on the details of the next project she had. That was a difficult task indeed when his presence was overpowering her. The chills that ran through her body, the shivers racing up her spine, kept her attention wandering back to the dwarven prince standing behind her.
"I've seen you practicing with the warriors," Thorin continued. "You would be a formidable opponent on the field of battle."
Lina did not turn, but her eyebrows rose in surprise. To receive such a compliment from Thorin was no small achievement. Any who had watched him in the mock battles the warriors staged could see that he was one of the best ever trained. He had a rather unconventional fighting style and was notorious for using every little slip up or opening to his best advantage. Lina had never faced him before due to her limited time to spend on the field.
"You will flatter me into the grave," she responded, teasing the prince to hide her embarrassment.
"I highly doubt that," he answered gruffly, appearing at the edge of Lina's vision. He removed his cloak and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Lina watched quietly as he pulled a long piece of metal, destined to become a sword, from the pile along the wall. She noted with pleasure that he still wore the buckle she had crafted for him so many years earlier.
Lina quickly averted her eyes when Thorin began to look up. It would not be in her best interest to be captured in his gaze right now.
"Look at me." The order shook Lina to her core. Her eyes obeyed instantly, though she wished they had not.
The familiar shock raced through her being as their eyes met. Her mind raced and her pulse quickened. Did he even know what he was doing to her?
Lina barely noticed as Thorin set aside the metal he'd been holding, but she could not miss that he was drawing closer to her. His eyes never left hers even as he towered over her. Where Thorin was tall for a dwarf, Lina was considered short. She had to tilt her head slightly to keep the connection between them, peering up from beneath her eye lashes. Her heart rose into her throat as Thorin halted a few inches away. The sensations intensified as she felt the heat rolling from his body.
She could smell him. His was the scent of oak. It always was. It did not matter what he had been doing nor did it matter where he was, Thorin always smelled the same. It was an observation Lina had made a few years before when they had been forced close together in an encounter with goblins.
Every muscle in her body tensed and quivered as Thorin reached out to trace his rough fingertips down the scar Lina still bore from her father. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid as her heart rate increased. His fingers came to a halt just beneath her jaw for a moment.
His eyes became dark with some unnamed emotion. Then his fingers moved to lift her chin, tilting her head back further. His thumb brushed back and forth over her lower lip. For once an emotion became clear in his eyes. Lina had not seen much emotion from him since the moment the Elves had forsaken the dwarves. Now she saw it clearly. He was just as confused and as uncertain as she. The fear was there, and the desire. The connection maintained between them was affecting him as much as it was her.
Stooping slightly, Thorin captured Lina's lips in his. A jolt far stronger than any she had ever felt before ran through her body. The world faded into obscurity as Lina's eyes fluttered closed, leaving only the two of them. The hand Thorin hand placed beneath her chin shifted until it was cradling one side of her face. His other hand came up to cradle the other as his lips began to move.
In the entirety of her forty years of life, Lina had never been kissed. What she was experiencing now far exceeded even her most vivid imaginings. Lina would have gasped at the sensations rushing through her had she been able to. Instead what came out was a quiet moan of pleasure.
Thorin's lips moved from one corner of Lina's mouth to the other, tasting her, teasing her. Another moan came out against the prince's roaming lips. Lina hid the sharp pang of disappointment when he drew back. The heat rose in her already flushed cheeks as she opened her eyes and caught his satisfied smirk. He had drawn her into a vulnerable position, had heard a sound form her lips that no other was likely to hear.
One hand dropped from her face, but the other remained, stroking her cheek gently. Thorin's gaze softened as he met Lina's eyes a second time. Only a few years earlier he would have never allowed himself to kiss her, no matter how she affected him. Lina knew that she would never have let him come even close to her if they were still in Erebor. So much had change since then.
"You are most fair," Thorin murmured, still caressing her face. Lina could not hide her pleasure at his words as a smile brightened her face.
A sudden crash from outside the forge ended the moment abruptly. Thorin's hand dropped from Lina's cheek and he took a large step backwards. Lina turned her attention to the entrance of the forge, as did the prince beside her.
A breathless messenger stumbled into view.
"King Thror—is d-d-dead," he panted.