Within a week Lina was back at her forge. After examination by the healers, it had been determined that the worst of her wounds were bone bruises on her ribs. Most of the others wounds were easily stitched together. The jagged cuts on the side of her face would likely become permanent scars in spite of the healers' best attempts. She was cleared to continue making armor.
The sheets of metal she'd prepared earlier were ready to be cut and attached to other armor. This allowed Lina to work herself back into the use of her forge gradually enough that her ribs wouldn't complain as much. Each scale was cut, heated, and shaped into the proper form before being either secured to a leather tunic or a chain mail shirt. There were a few dwarves who would also need the scales place on their leather gauntlets.
As the forge heated up and Lina began wielding her hammer more, she began to feel more like herself. For a few hours at least, the rage that had been building within her began to diminish. As the pile of scales grew, a few of the older dwarven women would move them into baskets and take them to a nearby table. These women had volunteered to help Lina in any way they could, to help make her job go faster. Lina had carefully explained how to attach these scales to the proper armor pieces to Lorina. Lorina in turn taught other women. This made the production of the pieces far faster than if Lina did them alone.
Occasionally, the smith glanced over at the older women. They were laughing and chatting like they were sitting in their homes back in Erebor, not in a hot and dirty forge far away. She smiled slightly. Let them laugh and enjoy themselves. Many of them had offered her their aid as she lay in her mother's dwelling, recovering from her bout with the princes. They claimed it was to make her job easier, but she noted that the majority of the women in her forge were the wives of those dwarven men most vocally opposed to Lina. Those whose husbands were not so vocal about their disapproval were also present. The dwarven women, young and old, had banded together to show their support of Lina. The old helped where they could, with their time and hands. The younger ones began to volunteer for the army. A few were too young or entirely unsuited to fighting. These females were given other roles by the army commander. No one who volunteered was turned away. Even Dis, the sister of Thorin and Frerin, was in the forge this morning, laughing and talking as she attached scales to a piece of chain mail.
It seemed many women had watched Lina's fight with the princes and their companion. A number of them had heard the outright rude things said about the young warrior as she limped from the arena. Many of that same number had also seen the way Thorin had done nothing to silence those who had spoken against the female his father had chosen to lift up. While they did not understand why Thorin's silent assent to the words of the older males had cut Lina as deep as it had, they did know it had been in very poor taste for him to utterly humiliate her the way he had.
The laughing chatter of the women Lina was now used to hearing suddenly fell silent. She paused in her work to see what had caused them to go silent. Standing awkwardly in the entrance of the forge was Thorin. The expression on his face said it all. He had not been expecting this many women to be in the forge. Especially since his sister was one of them. The prince regarded the gather females warily, while they stared stonily back.
Lina caught her mother looking over at her. The older dwarf was wondering what her daughter wanted them to do. Dis did the same, turning from her brother to Lina. In that moment, Lina suddenly realized how much sway she held with the dwarven women. That they would look to her for guidance was a mark of esteem she had not realized she had earned until now. She did not look back at the prince standing in the forge entrance. Her grip tightened on her hammer and the steady, rhythmic pounding began again. The other women returned to their own work, and soon their laughing voices filled the forge again.
There were few times Lina was not in the forge. Rarely did she return to her mother's dwelling to sleep. If she slept at all, she slept on a pallet against one wall of the forge. However, she slept very little. She was still busy making armor.
When not making armor, she was with the weapon master, training quietly. Dwalin and a few others of the young males joined these training sessions. Most of those who trained with Lina were young females, all very green, but so determined to impress Lina that they worked far harder than their male counterparts. Several actually showed some skill with weapons other than the bow. The young female Lina had knocked over backwards on the day she fought Thorin had become a fearsome warrior with her axe. She was by no means the best, but she was very good. One was beginning to show signs of being a bladed staff-wielder. Her chosen weapon was a long staff with wicked blades at either end. Lina enjoyed working the most with her. With a little training, this girl would likely prove to be a valuable line breaker.
Months flew by like this. The stockpile of armor was growing rapidly. A second forge had been erected nearby to give the weapon makers a place to work that was not overflowing with females. By the time King Thrain had been on the thrown one year, Lina's women had made enough armor to supply his entire army, as small as it was, twice over and then some.
Many of the dwarven clans had begun sending in their responses to Thrain's call to arms. Entire armies began arriving. Once the leaders of these armies saw the armor Lina and her small band of women were churning out, they began clamoring for some of their own.
Lina slept even less now. Her training sessions intensified as she sought to build up her strength and skills. Her forge was almost constantly bathed in the orange glow of fire and heated metal. The healers aided her by providing foul-smelling concoctions to help her remain alert whenever she set out to complete one project or another.
Lorina occasionally informed her daughter that Thorin had appeared at one point or another during the day, only to leave when he saw the older females working beside Lina.
Lina wondered vaguely why he was even coming to the forge. After turning away from her like he had . . . That wound hurt far more than any other he'd inflicted. She'd been confused and angry about how he'd simply left her after that first kiss. Now she was furious. Some nights, when she was all alone in the forge, Lina allowed her rage to come to the surface. It was the only time she could ever express it without drawing well-meaning but irritating inquiries about her emotions. The healers were perplexed by her explanations for the broken skin on her knuckles, but simply put salve on them whenever they brought her their concoctions.
Tonight was not a night in which her rage came out. She was too tired to rage, too tired to do much more than work. The women had cleaned out her supply of scales earlier that day, and the demand for the scaled armor had increased again.
"Do you ever leave here?"
Lina didn't even flinch at the gruff voice behind her.
"Only on rare occasions," she answered, picking up her hammer once more to begin pounding out another sheet of metal for more scales. Lina tried to appear indifferent to Thorin's presence. That was difficult to do. None of the older females were around to draw his scrutiny away from her, and she could feel his gaze burning down on her.
For a dwarf, Thorin moved with incredible silence. Lina turned to pick up her fire tongs and found him seated on the table edge where the tongs had been moments earlier. She started at his sudden appearance, almost taking a step backwards.
"You're ignoring me," he said flatly. Lina saw the flickers of movement around his eyes and knew he was trying to capture her again.
"And you're distracting me from my work," she answered, finally locating the tongs on the table just behind and to the left of him. Lina felt torn around him. She wanted to acknowledge him, to acknowledge what he was doing to her, but she didn't want to be played for a fool. Never would she allow herself to become someone's plaything, to use and discard as they chose. After his rejection of her, that seemed to be what she was. In the moment that kiss had occurred, he'd been interested. When the older dwarves had turned against her so had he.
Without thinking, Lina leaned closer to Thorin in order to reach her tongs. His right hand shot out and caught her hand, pulling her closer to him and wrapped his left arm around her waist. She gasped in surprise as she was pulled away from her anvil. It had been a long time since anyone had been strong enough to pull her around like that.
"You have years to get caught up on it," Thorin informed her gruffly. "Your work will wait."
Lina looked up at the prince in bewilderment, her eyes inadvertently connecting with his. Her body trembled. She had never been touching him when their eyes connected before. His grip on her waist loosened, but not the grip he had on her hand.
"Are you afraid of me?" Thorin asked softly. He had felt the tremors run through her frame.
"No."
"Then why are you ignoring me?" His blue eyes continued to hold her gaze.
"I've been busy," she answered defensively. Thorin raised one dark eyebrow.
"You're not busy now."
"No, you're holding me too tightly for me to be busy doing anything," Lina pointed out.
Thorin chuckled at her retort. A smile lingered on his lips.
He looked different when he smiled. The power and strength did not diminish; rather the intensity in his gaze was tempered. Lina couldn't help relaxing a bit under his smile.
"You still won't answer me," he prodded. Lina felt the anger rising up within her again.
"Why does it matter to you?" she snapped sharply, attempting to pull away. His grip tightened again, holding her tightly against him. She saw the darkness gathering in his eyes, his own anger welling up to match hers.
"Did that kiss mean nothing to you?" he retorted. His blue eyes bored into hers as his grip tightened.
"Answer me!" he snarled. Lina found her strength and jerked away from him. In an instant she had placed her anvil between them. Her hammer was still clutched in her hand, ready at a moment's notice to become a weapon with which to defend herself.
Thorin rose from the table, his hands clenched at his sides. He took a step toward her, but stopped when she lifted the hammer warningly. There was no doubt she would fight if it came to that.
"Did it mean anything to you?" she asked. Her gaze was defiant, daring him to make a move.
Thorin forced his hands to relax and hang loosely at his side as he considered his response. He did not understand what had happened. One day she moaning in pleasure as he kissed her, the next she was ignoring him whenever he tried to approach her.
"Of course it meant something," he muttered gruffly. "I don't usually go around kissing random females."
"You'll forgive me if I doubt you," Lina answered.
"What reason have I given you to doubt me?" Thorin was nearly shouting. He slammed his fist down on the table. The wood groaned under the abuse.
"You turned your back on me," she spat. "You've heard what they say about me, you heard what they said that day. By your silence you were agreeing with them!"
Thorin's expression changed abruptly from one of anger to one of confusion. Then the confusion cleared. He understood.
"Oh," he whispered faintly. Apparently it had not occurred to him that the criticism of Lina were far more devastating to her than they seemed to him.
"I've done everything in my power to earn my place," Lina whispered, all the anger and frustration pouring out. "I have fought and bled beside you in battle against those that would harm our people. I have gained fame and reputation for our people. I've worked hard for what little I have. Every ancient pig who thinks he can control me and finds out otherwise decides to put me down. I've been shunned by males my entire life, and I am tired of it!"
Thorin was stunned by her words. He had not realized how cruel the men really were. As far as he was concerned, Lina had earned her rights the day she rescued his father from the Dragon. However, most of the other dwarves had not seen her actions at all. They did not know what she had done to deserve her freedom.
"I am sorry," he answered, bowing his head to her. Lina felt some of the tension drain from her at his words. Her hammer lowered until it came to rest on the anvil.
"It had not occurred to me that other males would question your position in our settlement. The matter was closed when you received the Mark as far as I was concerned. My father had granted you status on level with any other male, and I did not question it. I never realized until they spoke out what you were facing, and I did nothing to rebuff their attacks. For my gender, and for myself, I apologize." Thorin finished speaking, his eyes once more locked with hers.
Lina saw the shame in his eyes as he spoke of his gender's cruelty toward her.
For a moment they were both silent, simply staring into the other's eyes. Then Thorin began to move, slowly reaching out her. His hand caught hers and gently drew her toward him. He placed his free hand at the small of her back, pressing her against him. The hand holding hers raised and pressed her hand gently on his shoulder before leaving it there. His now freed hand caressed Lina's cheek much as he had been doing before the messenger had interrupted months earlier.
"You are captivating," he murmured finally, breaking the silence. His work-roughened fingers trailed over her scar time and again. They brushed lightly over the new scars from her shattered helm.
"I had not intended to do you such injury," Thorin told her ruefully. "I had not meant to add scars to your lovely face."
A small smile of amusement appeared on Lina's lips at his words. Before her life was over she would doubtlessly have a thousand more, far worse, scars. That was the life she had chosen to lead.
After a moment Lina found the courage to move the hand Thorin had pressed onto his shoulder, to lift her other hand from her side to touch him. The hand on his shoulder crept upwards to play with a strand of the prince's dark mane. Her other hand came to rest on his chest, just over his heart.
For the first time, Lina was able act freely while still in Thorin's gaze. She slid her hand beneath the edge of the vest he wore, pressing her hand flat against the shirt separating his skin from hers. Through the fabric she could feel his heart beating, steady and strong. The fingers running along her face stilled as Lina gently massaged the back of Thorin's neck.
His eyes closed, inviting her to continue her ministrations. For the first time, Lina had the luxury of simply examining Thorin without being captured. The small smile on his lips had transformed a face which, years earlier, been almost frightening. His broad brow was relaxed in this moment, unfurrowed by troubles or worries. His eyebrows, thick and dark, lay quiet. A long, sharp nose divided his face. His smiling lips were thin, but they were so full of expression. Lina blushed as she remembered just what those lips could do.
As if he read her thoughts, Thorin's eyes opened. His hand grasped the back of Lina's head and pulled her face to his. Their lips met in a far different fashion than the first kiss.
Lina felt the fire kindling in the pit of her stomach as Thorin hungrily kissed her mouth. There was still tenderness, but there was more to it this time. There was an intensity that had not been in the first kiss, a hunger.
To her surprise, Lina found herself answering his kiss, her lips moving of their own accord. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding his head nearly as tightly as he held hers. Her other hand slid up from her chest to brush lightly against the underside of his jaw.
Finally Thorin broke off the kiss, but he did not draw away from her. Rather he leaned his head gently toward hers until their foreheads were touching. His breathing was ragged, and his pulse throbbed wildly beneath Lina's fingertips.
"It was you, wasn't it?" he managed after a moment. He lifted his head to look at her.
"What was me?" Lina asked, cocking her head slightly to one side.
"The buckle," Thorin said. "You made it, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"I thought as much," he answered, a small smile caressing his lips. "I knew it was yours when I saw the look in your eyes as I examined it. Why did you make that particular piece?"
"I wanted to make something for you," she answered slowly, carefully choosing her words. "Not simply make something and give it to you, but to make it for you. It was to represent the strength and power that I saw, that I see, in you. I wanted whatever I made to be something that did not look out of place on you, but to look like it belonged. It had to be something strong and durable, yet beautiful to behold."
Lina stopped speaking, watching the prince for his reaction. A soft look passed over his face as she gazed up at him.
"Thank you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.
"For what?"
"For seeing me."