Warrior's Heart

Chapter Two

As she stepped into the dining room, Arielle immediately felt out of place and felt every single pair of eyes in the room upon her.

A hand came to rest at the small of her back. Thorin Oakenshield. She knew his name and knew it well, for her father absolutely despised the man and his kin. But from the way Thranduíl spoke, she imagined this man would be something of a monster, like an Orc or troll.

She hadn't expected him to be... well... him.

First off, he was handsome. So very handsome, actually, despite his rough appearance. She could imagine him being frightening, with his long tangle of black hair shot through with silver, and the full black beard that he sported. But when he spoke, his voice was low; a deep, soothing baritone voice.

What struck her most were his eyes. They were nowhere near as dark as his coloring would have one believe they were. No, instead, his were a pale blue-gray and more serious than any eyes she'd ever seen. Somehow, she didn't think they missed much at all.

She swallowed hard as the twelve other dwarves turned and stared, their conversations stilled, the quiet almost thick enough to see. Beside her, Thorin said, "There are two chairs at the table in the back. Go and sit. I'll bring you a bowl of stew."

The air was heavy with the aroma of beef and roasted vegetables, and stew would do wonders to take the chill from her bones. Alongside that heavenly scent, though, was the smell of wet dog. She fought to keep her nose from wrinkling. Most of the men hadn't removed their fur coats and that lent to the dog-smell.

They were all similar in height, and she was almost as tall as them, but their ages varied from what appeared to be very young—two dwarves who bore a strong resemblance to one other, only one had very dark hair and the other was more a reddish-blonde—to considerably older. They were loud, somewhat messy, and very boisterous and as she passed by, their conversation halted until she was over by the table Thorin had pointed out. Then it resumed, even louder if that was possible. These men obviously enjoyed their time together and they all seemed rather contented to simply ignore her.

Which was fine. She drew the chair from the table and sank into it. From that vantage point, she couldn't see over the dwarves' heads and so had no idea where Thorin might have vanished to, until he suddenly appeared, placing a scuffed wooden bowl before her.

She breathed deep, savoring the rich aroma of root vegetables and beef in their thick sauce, a hint of pepper teased her nose, along with other, less familiar spices. She dipped her bent and battered spoon into the broth and lifted it for a taste. She recognized almost none of the spices, but it didn't matter as they blended to create one of the most delicious flavors she'd ever tasted. The vegetables hadn't gotten soggy and while the beef was a little stringy, it was still tender as well.

Although he had a bowl before him, Thorin made no move eat. Instead, those blue-gray eyes remained on her, unblinking and unwavering. Lowering her spoon, Arielle gestured with it to his bowl. "You are not eating?"

"I will."

"Why do you stare?"

"I want the truth."

She shrugged, dipping her spoon back into the heavenly broth. "What lies do you think I've told?"

"How you came to be beyond the borders of Mirkwood, for one. The daughter of the Elvenking? Exiled and left to fend for herself? You'll forgive me if I don't believe that to have but a drop of truth in it."

"I am sorry you feel that way, for it is the truth. Why would I ever make up such a tale?"

He rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped, and offered up a mirthless grin. "That is exactly what I wish to know."