Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter Two

Thorin couldn't sleep. The rain pattering against the windowpanes made far too much noise, rendering sleep nearly impossible.

At least, that was what he told himself as he threw back the quilts and rose to pad to said window. He couldn't see much beyond those raindrops. It still teemed outside, as it had done every night for the last three nights.

And he'd tossed a boy out into it, for no reason other than he simply didn't wish to be bothered by him. And as he stared into the darkness, shame filled him. The boy had saved his neck, although he thought it odd the lad had been tracking him, for lack of a better word, for the last several weeks as he made his way toward the village of Bree. He'd received word his father, Thráin had been seen in or near Bree not too long ago, and so without hesitation, that was where he set his path for. The hope glimmering in his chest was small, but it was hope and therefore he'd cling to it for as long as he could.

Of course, that didn't justify his callous treatment of the boy. So, with a sigh of resignation, he drew on his boots, slipped on his cloak, tucked his room key into a pocket and made his way out into the downpour.

He peered through rain as he crossed the narrow road, slipping this way and that in the mud, only to find no sign of Seren. Rain soaked into his hair, beaded up and ran off his cloak, his nose, as he searched up one side of the street, and then down the other.

As he neared the pub once more, he stopped. There, huddled against the building, was Seren, arms wrapped about himself, shivering as the temperature dropped further. Thorin swore softly as he bent and with a grunt, lifted the boy.

He was far lighter than Thorin expected, and he remembered the lad confessing he'd eaten nothing but bread for the last few days. Last few days? He'd be surprised if the boy had eaten much of anything for the last six months. He was skin and bone and not much else.

Seren stirred as Thorn lifted him, a fist narrowly missing Thorin's cheek as he jerked his head back and said, "Easy, lad. I'm not going to hurt you."

The boy's eyes opened slowly. "What?"

"One night," Thorin growled. "And come the morning, you and I go our separate ways."

Seren nodded, his eyes closing once more. "I thank you."

Thorin once more felt the hot sting of shame. Seren did, actually, save his neck and in return, received ill treatment and impatience. Thorin let him rot out in the rain for hours before his guilt got the best of him, and when he picked Seren up, the boy didn't hesitate to thank him.

He vowed not to dwell on it as he carried Seren back above and set him in the chair closest to the fire. "You should undress and let your clothes dry, lad."

"I'll be fine," Seren mumbled, curling into a ball in the chair. "I only wish to sleep."

"At least take off the wet cloak." Thorin bent over and unfastened the green and silver frogs holding it closed. He paused, the frogs in his palm as he straightened up. The green was jade, set in gold. He knew the design, for it was one his own people created. "Where did you get this?"

Seren's eyes opened once more. "I beg your pardon?"

"This," he held out the clasp, "how did you come into possession of this?"

Seren sat up in the chair, shifting this way and that to ease his cloak out from beneath him. "I've had it since I was a child. My mother gave it to me when I turned twelve summers. Why?"

"This is dwarven made."

Seren nodded. "I know. We lived just beyond Erebor, in Dale."

Thorin's fingers closed about the jade and gold frogs. "Dale was destroyed, well before you were born, lad. So, tell me true, where did you get this?"