Warrior's Heart

Chapter Nine

When Arielle opened her eyes, it was morning and Thorin was sound asleep beside her, on his back, one arm flung above his head, the other parallel to his body. She sat up, shoving a handful of hair out of her eyes as she gazed down at him. He seemed so much like himself last eve, like the Thorin he'd been as they made their way from Mirkwood to the Blue Mountains so many months ago. 

Even so, she still worried. A sense of foreboding crept over her, a sense that something terrible lay in their path, in their future, and she was powerless to stop it. And whatever that something was, it was going to take him away from her. Forever.

Her stomach clenched. Several weeks earlier, she suspected she was pregnant. Her courses failed to arrive just before they left for Laketown, and the nausea began upon their arrival in Laketown. It wasn't quite as severe as it had been when she carried Tiriana, which also made her suspect the baby she carried was a boy. 

Thorin's son.

She slipped from the bed without a sound, dressed quickly in soft leggings of sky-blue velvet and a tunic of gray velvet, tugged on her boots, and slipped from the room to find the others. 

Up in what served as the dining room, she rounded the corner to find Dwalin the lone dwarf at the table. He looked up. "Good morning, m'lady."

"Good morning." She rubbed one eye. "Dare I ask if there is tea?"

"You are in luck," he gestured to the crumbling stone sideboard, where a beautiful tea service of highly polished silver stood, "there is."

He stood and moved to the sideboard to pour a cup and said, "Sit, m'lady. Get off your feet."

"Do not start babying me," she told him, even as she did just that. "You will give it away to Thorin and I shouldn't have even told you. He should know before anyone else."

"And yet ye've no' told him."

She shook her head. "I want to. Thank you." She took the cup and set it on the table in front of her. "But something holds me back. He isn't himself, even when he shows signs of being himself, if that makes any sense."

He returned to his chair, shaking his head. "He's growing worse by the day, m'lady."

"Please," she reached over to cover his hand with hers, "Arielle is fine. In fact, I prefer it."

He bobbed his head. "I beg yer pardon."

"It's fine. I know you all do it as a sign of respect, and I appreciate it, but right now? I need something that is normal." She sipped the mild tea. Hopefully, it would soothe her stomach. She should have brought some of Amara's tea, but left for Laketown in so great a hurry, she forgot it. 

The candlelight cast dancing shadows all along the rough stone walls. Perhaps Erebor would be a palace, a showplace, once it was fully renovated and restored, but for now? Now, it reminded her of the dungeons in Mirkwood—cold and unwelcoming. Erebor was dank and damp, musty in the corners, and almost unpleasant.

She looked over at Dwalin. As usual, he looked as if he just wished to fight something. Thorin once told her there was no one he trusted more than Dwalin, with the exception of Balin, of course, and that there was no one he trusted more with her, either. Fili and Kili would look after her, of course, but Dwalin would most definitely protect her, and despite his gruff appearance and rough speech, he was just as protective over those he cared for as Thorin was. He might throw Tiriana ten feet into the air, but he would also catch her and keep her safe.

"May I ask you something?" she asked softly. 

"Ask me anything ye wish."

"Do you honestly think Thorin is lost?"