Warrior's Heart

Chapter Fifteen

Her head ached.

She rolled over and opened her eyes, rubbing the welt on her jaw as she did so. It was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds as she stared up at it. It took a few minutes, but then it all came rushing back.

Thorin was gone. Wounded, bloodied, and now at Elwin's mercy.

She tried to stand, and the wave of dizziness slammed into her hard enough to knock her back to her knees. The world spun out of control, a sour, brackish taste rose in her mouth. Her body tensed and she vomited into the grass.

It took several minutes for her body to quiet down. She tried to stand again, and this time managed to remain on her feet. Her sword—the beautiful gold and steel sword Thorin forged specially for her--lay on the grass a few feet away, alongside Thorin's. The emerald on her hand glittered in the muted moonlight.

She knew what she had to do.

By the time she reached the Main Street, her head had cleared enough, and she knew where Balin's shop was from her first day in Thorin's Hall and she didn't care what time it was as she pounded on his door.

"What the deuce—" Balin's grumble became a wide-eyed silence as he saw her on his front porch. "What is it, Miss Arielle?"

"Goblins and elves..." She leaned against the doorjamb as the pain in her jaw swelled. "They took Thorin. Back to Mirkwood, I believe."

Balin stared for a moment. "Are you certain?"

She nodded. "I am. I must go and speak with my father, but I need help. Might I count on the Company?"

"Of course you can." He glanced down and a slight smile lifted his lips. "He asked you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He gestured to her hand. "The ring."

Her thumb brushed the warm gold band. "He did."

"Good." Balin caught that hand in his to give it a squeeze. "Worry not, Miss Arielle. I will summon the others and we will set out at once for Mirkwood."

***

Thorin stared up at the dank ceiling of the cramped, equally dank cell deep in the bowels of Mirkwood. His shoulder burned, his thigh ached, his gut churned with fury. He hadn't seen Elwin since arriving in Mirkwood and the very thought of him laying a hand on Arielle made the churning worse.

The cell was barely wide enough for him to take four steps across, even if he could stand long enough to do it. He tried, only to have his gut cramp, sending him to one knee.

"Ah, you're awake?"

Thorin tossed his hair out of his face as he looked up to see Elwin on the other side of the cold iron bars that made up his cell door. "Of course I am. Did you think I would not be?"

It took every ounce of will he possessed to get to his feet and remain there, but he managed to do it, and almost smiled at the flicker of fear that shot through Elwin's eyes. So this was the elf Thranduíl thought worthy of his daughter. A laugh, that. He wasn't fit to wipe her boots.

Of course, he wasn't at all certain he was, either. But, that didn't matter because she chose him. Of all of the men, dwarves, and elves in Middle Earth, Arielle chose him, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, to love.

"Tell me, do you truly think she loves you? She is a fickle, soft-hearted creature and probably only felt sorry for you."

Despite the pain radiating thorough his body, Thorin managed a smile. "She accepted my proposal, elf. Agreed to be my wife. I'd say she does love me."