Gordon Lightfoot - If You Could Read My Mind
Florence & the Machine - No Light, No Light
Rihanna - Dancing In The Dark
Panic! At the Disco - This is Gospel
The Heavy - What Makes A Good Man
Ellie Goulding - Anything Could Happen
The Darkness - I Believe In A Thing Called Love
The Cranberries - Dreams
The Band Perry - Better Dig Two
Elton John - I'm Still Standing
Sting - Every Breath You Take
Chapter 19
"If you dare nothing, then when the day is over, nothing is all you will have gained." - Neil Gaiman
Erdene made it to her corner just before the eighth bell began to ring. She nodded at her regulars, the people who often wished her good morning, some of them often stayed to watch her play a song. She smiled brightly back at them despite the purplish bruises under her eyes from a definite lack of sleep lately.
But she had to know, and now, now she knows. Valis' crash course in the basic mechanics of dwarven pre-courtship left Erdene with a head full of ideas.
Thorin accepted her.
One day, some day, she was going to have to tell Thorin she is (was?) an outworlder. How was she supposed to start that conversation though? With their budding relationship being as rocky as it had been, telling him was probably out of the question. At least for now.
Maybe once he trusted her a little more.
Until she was sure he wasn't going to flip his shit the second she explained where Savannah, Georgia was. Or Reno, Nevada. The United States of America. Earth.
Then there was The Hobbit.
She caught his eye when he looked in her direction. Erdene mouthed hello at him with a tiny wave before climbing atop her makeshift stage. And, as always he smiled in return, a softer smile than it had ever been and he nodded at her in return. Her soulmate.
Well he was in for a surprise this morning. So was everyone else milling through the plaza, but this was for him. Inspired by him quoting one of her favorite movies.
Had she told him the story? Had she told the Company the story? How had she ended up going with them? How had she talked Thorin into letting her go with him? Or had she stolen away and shown up at Bilbo's simal? Or worse, shown up in Bree after the company already set out?
Erdene set her violin down, dropped her empty coin purse to the ground, and like always people stopped. They liked to hear her play. There was the woman with the nearly blue-gray hair and her basket of herbs. The man with the limp who trekked to work every morning through the plaza. The tall boy with the firewood who dropped her a copper or two when he could. The handful of dwarrow who worked near here for the human population of South Yard.
Deep breath. Back straight.
From the diaphragm.
Slight lyric change, movie to novel. Drug store to bookstore. Movie star to performer. An extra syllable or two here, one less there. She practiced the song in her head the whole walk for Valis' place and back again with the girls in tow.
Here goes everything. Breathe.
"If you could read my mind love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell,
Just like an old time novel, about a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong, with chains upon my feet
You know that ghost is me, and I will never be set free,
as long as I'm a ghost you can't see."
There is something different today, though he cannot place what. She was late again, and again he worried what might his one have gotten into this morning. Was she with his cousin again? When he saw her arrive, Thorin caught the tiny wiggling of her pinky at him. He nodded at her in return. The smile that lit up her face as she climbed atop her makeshift stage.
His hands, arms, mind, stuttered as if struck. He thought himself besotted? Like a dwarfling with their first interest? If he could live for her smile alone.
"Are you certain you won't change your mind?" The blacksmith asked him for the second time this morning. "I can increase your pay if that is the issue."
Thorin might have laughed. Money. The race of men, for them business was always a matter of more money. If this man could see the coffers in Thorin's home. His jaw would fall off his face in shock and awe.
"It is not a matter of payment," Thorin told the man with a curt if polite nod. For the time being Thorin would keep his irritation in check.
"You are the best worker I've had in nearly a decade. There has to be something I can offer you?"
Pleading? What was next? Begging? While his opinion of the man hadn't been quite as high as it had been for other men, Thorin's respect was slowly dwindling. "Nothing."
The man seemed not to like this answer and opened his mouth to reply when a clear and lovely voice cut through their conversation. Thorin knew before his attention turned away from the blacksmith to the woman standing on a box at the corner. His one. He'd thought correctly.
Mahal, his one could sing.
"If you could read my mind love, what a tale your thoughts could tell,
Just like a hardback novel, the kind that bookstore sell,
When you reach the part, where the heartache comes,
The hero would be me, heroes often fail.
And you won't read that book again,
because the ending's just too hard to take."
"By the Gods," the blacksmith said, whether to Thorin or to himself aloud, Thorin didn't know. "What is she doing playing for pennies on a street corner with a voice like that?"
Dwarrow-dam voices were similar to their male counterparts, if somewhat higher and sweeter. Dís had the highest voice of any dam Thorin knew of. Erdene's voice rose and fell, much above the range he knew Dís could achieve, with a darker, warmer quality.
He caught her eye as she moved to the next stanza, the curve of her mouth as she all but smiled at him. Cheeky. Singing to him when she had the attention of all those people. His work placed aside, Thorin took up his pipe, lit it and moved to the archway closest to him. If the blacksmith took issue with it, the man said nothing.
"If you could read my mind love,
What a tale my thoughts could tell,
Just like an old time novel, about a ghost from a wishing well.
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong, with chains upon my feet
But stories always end, and if you read between the lines
You'll know that I'm just trying to understand,
The feelings that you lack, I never thought I could feel this way,
And I've got to say that I just don't get it,
I don't know where we went wrong,
But the feeling's gone, and I just can't get it back."
"Another!" Someone called from a distance away as others clapped.
Shaking her head, Erdene laughed. "Afraid not, it's too cold, but who wants to hear a tune?"
Some of the people had begun to move on, but a few others, who also worked in the plaza and had kiosks or shops, called out affirmatives. Erdene grabbed her violin case, pulled both her violin and bow, and began her play list of the day. First up, Florence and the Machine's No Light, No Light.
Not twenty heartbeats after she finished playing that evening, Erdene joined him near the forge. Her smile was wide, and mischievous. "Good evening Master Oakenshield."
"Mistress Thoroughfare," he said as he finished sorting his tools for the next day, "after hearing your humming evening past, I had some inclination you might be able to sing." He enjoyed being the cause of the blush spreading over her skin. Mahal. He wanted to see how far it went. To her toes? To her chest? "But I had not expected you might sound like that."
Shyly her gaze dropped to her fingers as they toyed with something on her wrist. "I am a mezzo soprano," Erdene told him with a bite to her lower lip. Blue eyes, the color of turquoise searched his face.
Was blue the color of her shyness? Of her interest? Were there other shades of blue like there were of brown and green? Honey brown, the color of her happiness. Topaz brown, the color of her lust and desire. Jade, pained sorrow. Evergreen, the color had mixed with a winter blue last night.
Mahal. He might spend their lives learning her emotions.
"Did you like it? The song?" Erdene added while he cooled the fires in the shop.
Why did she sound as if she were unsure? Once more he caught her tugging on something with strings that fell to her palm from her wrist.
He found himself finished quite quickly, as he had since he began walking her home. "I did. I have never heard that one before. Your musical education must have been quite in-depth for you to know as many songs as you do." Thorin took up his pack and joined her by the second arch.
Erdene wrinkled her freckled nose at him with a small snicker. "You could say that. My grandparents, if nothing else, were invested in my education." And, once more she tugged at the strings dangling from her wrist.
Perhaps because she accepted his token. Perhaps because last night she had been bold with him. Perhaps because the bead he began working on would be completed by next Wednesday at the very latest, Thorin broke several rules of propriety by gently taking her left hand in his and pushing the sleeve of her coat and dress back.
Silently he made a mental note to have more dresses made for her once they were courting. The silver-blue was quite lovely, but his one with her darker skin, red-brown curls and animated eyes would look quite lovely in shades of green, purple and red. Mahal. And, of course he wanted to see her wear Durin's Blue.
Thorin found the source of her preoccupation to be a leather bracelet with a small, chipped and roughly halved orange-red sunstone wrapped in thin bronze wiring bound to the leather. His breath caught.
Blue eyes rose from looking at the stone, "is this your birthstone?"
Her brow drew together in genuine confusion. "Huh? No, I'm a March baby, my stone is an aquamarine. This my dad's. He gave it to my mom when they got married."
Thorin let go of a pensive breath. Mahal. For a moment he thought…he thought he was attempting to court a married woman. Tradition dictated the exchange of birth stones at the marriage ceremony. If Erdene was perhaps a widow, he would still be able to offer himself to her.
Were she married, they would both have to resign themselves to a life without one another. That or a decade long divorce proceeding. Which, given that she was of men, neither of them had time for.
"It's broken though," Erdene continued, watching him with gray-blue eyes, "it was a necklace when my dad gave it to my mom, but it snapped in half a long time ago. I put the part that broke off on this old bracelet. Don't usually wear it though." The last time she wore it was summer, the day she first visited the plaza. The day she saw Thorin for the first time. She only put it on this morning because, well, she'd been wearing it in the dream.
He hummed, thinking over her words as he gently released her wrist. Erdene withdrew from him with a small frown. "Thorin?" Her eyes were a solid gray now as she watched him.
He held out a hand toward their traditional route, "I have been meaning to ask you, Mistress Thoroughfare, your thoughts on marriage."
And Erdene nearly tripped over her own feet and the cobblestone.
It was one thing to know that one day, some day in the future, she was married to Thorin and they had kids. Not just one kid. Twins. And if their attraction to one another was anything to go by, they probably had more than just the twins.
The sex is probably amazing though. Like, mind blowing.
But the actual marriage thing? That left her hesitant. She'd seen too many bad ones. Too many broken ones where two people who didn't like each other very much stayed because that is what society and their religions expected of them.
"I don't…I mean I do have thoughts about being married but what brings the question on?" She asked as they passed under a walkway.
"We have discussed many things," that damn perfect mask of his in place, "does the subject make you uncomfortable?"
She glanced at him. He had this way of covering his emotions with a solid mask, completely unreadable. "I…I don't know of many good marriages personally. My grandparents despise each other, he plays golf to get away from her and she spends all their money to try and buy happiness. My aunt only married her husband because he fit what her ideal for the life she wanted. They don't like each other much either, but they stay together because a divorce makes them look bad. My uncle's wife is a mindless drone. She doesn't challenge him, and takes every nasty thing he says to her with this bizarre little smile. Her kids treat her like a servant. It's awful."
Just like always he moved the tree branch of the tall olive out of their way, waiting for her to walk past him. "Your parents?"
Why does this feel different?
This feels like he's asking her something important. Her heartbeat was in her throat and her arms prickled with goosebumps. She licked her lower lip, "my parents were love at first sight. Whirlwind romance, married after two weeks and baby on the way before either of them could tell their families they were married. My mama, she never dated after he died. Had me all on her own."
In the moonlight his eyes are perfectly dark blue. "Your father passed?"
She nodded. "A couple of months before I was born. My mama said he was her one and only. She never was interested in anyone after that."
Something pleasant passed over his face before his expression went neutral again. "You have never married?"
Was he asking because…Oh my god. "No…I've never married. I'm not against getting married." Erdene told him, shrugging. "I'm just not for doing it for the wrong reasons." Surreptitiously looking at him once more. "What about you?"
"What would make you ask?" He'd asked, genuinely curious, those much too pretty blue eyes looking right at her.
The blush spread everywhere. God she probably looked like a tomato. "You're good, kind, and you're not hard to look at."
"Am I not?" He'd stroked his beard. "Are you saying you find me pleasing to look at, Mistress Thoroughfare?"
They stopped just a few feet from the house. Pleasing to look at? He had to be kidding. Right? Those eyes, his voice and he…he's the most gorgeous person she knew, both inside and out. How could he possibly not know that? And he's a king. Weren't dam literally throwing themselves at him? His lips, despite the mask of neutrality he wore, had the slightest curve to it. Was he teasing her? "Surely you know what you look like, Thorin." When she said his name, the curve turned into a small smile and he took half a step toward her.
"I do. I have a sister who tells me regularly. But she is my sister. I am asking if you, Erdene Thoroughfare," fucking hell the way he said her name with that deeper tone made her core flood. Christ almighty. "Find me pleasing to look at?"
Ery, if you want him to ever kiss you, now is the fucking time. Head up, meet his eyes, and say it. Lips suddenly dry, she licked her lower lip and said. "Yes, Thorin Oakenshield, I do find you very pleasing to look at," the way he smiled at her, god in heaven, "and talk to, and walk with and…" her eyes met his, "I don't think I enjoy anything more all day than walking home with you at night. Except, maybe, watching you work."
Please let him pin me against the wall and kiss me like he needs me. Please. I will never in my life ask for anything ever again if he just shows me he wants me too.
Unfortunately, or rather fortunately for her, Thorin restrained himself. She saw the tension in him, the half step he took backwards and those blue eyes practically burning in the moonlight. He, just like he did every night for the last three weeks, inclined his head, "good evening Mistress Thoroughfare."
Really? She didn't bother schooling her own pout of disappointment, "Good evening Master Oakenshield."
And, just like every other night he waited until she was in the house before leaving. Erdene leaned back against the door confused, somewhat aggravated and no small amount frustrated. It was like…it was like…like he was teasing her. No, he's not the kind of guy who teases. He looked like he was going to kiss her and then something changed.
Maybe it was admitting her family had a history of marrying the worst people. And why, why was he asking her about marriage? Unless…unless…unless… He's a prince, a king rather, and he lived in a court for years. He had to learn to keep his facial expressions in check, didn't he?
By his own admission, he was young when he was forced to leave Erebor but not that young. Twenty-four is old enough to have learned how to keep your emotions in check. Especially if you're royalty.
Isn't it?
Why, why is she even-
Because he looked at her like he wanted to push her against the wall and have her right there in the street. Because he was that close to kissing her, she knew he was. And, because she wanted him too.
Tuesday night's dream was significantly different from the last several. Erdene woke in the middle of the night, uncertain of what she just saw. Uncertain if that was her future or if that was a possibility or if that was purely a dream conjured from her vivid imagination.
In it, at the beginning of it, Erdene was sitting at a small desk, not too small, but sized for someone smaller. Definitely not her. In her dominant hand she held what looked like an older ink pen. It wasn't anything like the designs she was used to in the modern world, instead it was made of a brushed metal haphazardly sealed into a tube shape, with raised bits along the seal that had been trimmed and sanded down so the user wouldn't tear their hand open using it. Before her on the wooden desk was a letter.
I wonder if the baby's hair will be black like yours. I love your hair. It's beautiful. I remember Rivendell, you above me, your curtain of dark hair around us. I knew I loved you before that moment, but in that moment - I never wanted to leave your side.
Maybe things would have been different if I'd told you. Maybe I would be in Erebor with you right now, my feet up on a pillow and you doting on me. I want to yell your name every time the baby kicks. I want to see you smile as the baby moves.
I still have my feet on a pillow most of the day. The midwife says I need to stay off my feet. Bilbo, bless him, he's been such a wonder. You'd hug him all over again for all the things he does for me and the baby, I know you would.
The pad of feet down the hall alerted her to someone coming, and in the dream Erdene's attention turned to the familiar looking round door way to find the hobbit walking in. His messy waves of driftwood brown hair falling into clear, curious brown eyes as he puffed on his pipe. In his hands he sorted through a small stack of letters.
Now Erdene knew why the desk looked familiar. She knew this room too. Bilbo's study in his simal. With bookcases and stacks of books, a small series of maps in a basket, and the warm, cozy and welcoming feel of a hobbit hole.
Bilbo took another step, brown eyes rising, "there are no less than three letters from both Kíli and Tauriel, one from Fíli, Ori and one from Balin." He didn't offer her the letters, instead holding them in one hand and asked, "which would you rather have first?"
Dream Erdene had huffed, turning in her hobbit sized seat. Which wasn't too small for her. "One of Tauriel's please. If I see Balin's or Fíli's first I'll just be angry all day." Bilbo plucked the one on top and held it out obligingly. "Thank you."
He hummed a gentle, "you're welcome," as she withdrew the letter. He took another handful of steps forward and set the rest of the letters down at the far side of the desk. "I suppose they will never stop asking you to return to Erebor, will they?"
Erdene folded over the letter she was writing, opened a drawer to her left and set it on top of a small stack of letters, all unsent. She heard the smallest sigh from Bilbo. It echoed in the part of her that missed Thorin.
Fíli survived Ravenhill with a broken left arm and broken left leg.
Kíli survived with five broken ribs and a serious concussion.
Thorin took Azog with him to the grave.
When she missed him most, Erdene wrote letters to Thorin. Which bordered on daily now that the baby was moving around and kicking like crazy. He would never read them. But one day, someday far in the future, she would deliver the pile of them to Thorin's grave and she would bring their child with her.
It hurt. It still hurts so much. Living without her other half was daily agony. But she endured it for their child. Like her mother endured it before her.
"The dwarves of the blue mountains have been moving back to their homeland in droves." Erdene told him with a small sniff. Her eyes burned. She pushed the drawer closed much harder than she needed to. "Fíli and Balin will eventually have too much to do on their hands and the letters will slow down until they stop."
She looked forward to the day they stopped. The day Fíli stopped proposing marriage and the day Balin stopped trying to convince her to marry Fíli. It was sweet, at first, when Fíli asked her before she left with Bilbo. He posed it as a way for the baby to inherit the Durin throne. Balin assured her, the babe would want for nothing, and there would be no question of heritage.
Erdene asked for time. Being newly widowed, she needed it. Needed to retreat into her rooms and mourn her husband.
"I swear, Bilbo, I am this close," she held up her thumb and index finger of her right hand so they were an inch apart, "to walking all the way back to Erebor to smack somebody."
Fists on his hips, Bilbo shook his head at her, "You'll be lucky if you can waddle to the road out of Hobbiton. You'll be back before luncheon crying about your ankles."
Erdene stuck her tongue out at him. "Blame Thorin's giant baby. I'm eight months and I feel like a whale."
As if the baby understood her, it kicked. Erdene grabbed Bilbo's wrist, placing his hand atop the kick. Bilbo's answering smile was both softly happy and tiredly sad.
"It's a boy, it must be." Bilbo told her with the same sadly happy smile on his face. He shifted his hand to follow the baby's somersaults.
Erdene stayed awake for a while after she woke up with an aching spot in her chest, fear lodged in her throat and tears burning her eyes. No. That's not going to happen. She won't let it happen. She won't be alone raising their children.
Even if that was the last thing she did.
I'm sorry!
But we all know Fíli, trying to do the right thing by both Erdene, and Thorin would offer to marry her. He'd claim the baby as his heir. And we all know Balin would back that move, to keep there from being a division of the empire over a question of a child's heritage. To protect the throne, I'd imagine the line of Durin would want Erdene to stay.