In Time

Chapter Ten

A full moon shone down over Rivendell, bathing everything its light touched silver. A warm breeze floated through the treetops, carrying the scents of lavender and vanilla across the courtyard. Crickets chirped, an owl hooted in the distance. So much tranquility in one magical place, and Amara loved being out in the courtyards at night. When she couldn't sleep, she came here especially; to think, to ease her jumbled thoughts, or just to sit and savor the peace and quiet.

She guided Thorin to one of the white marble benches dotting the courtyards, this one near the series of fountains that, at one time, the dwarves of Erebor had turned into their own personal waterslides, just below the Healing Room. After their departure, Elrond couldn't walk past those fountains without shuddering and Lindir tended to avoid the areas altogether, which Amara thought was a bit much.

The soft rush of water rose above the lilting breeze and she gazed over at Thorin. He'd come a long way since his first days in Rivendell. The wounded, broken warrior was almost whole once more. His eyes seemed fixed on the fountains, his hair almost dry now it fluttered in the wind.

In the beginning, he'd given her so much grief, she'd looked forward to the day when he took his leave of Rivendell. But, that wasn't exactly true any longer. She'd grown fond of him, and found that perhaps not all dwarves fit their stereotype. She would miss him once he left.

The silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable silence. There was no pressure to fill the silence with words, and as she looked over, she saw him no longer as the bleeding dwarf so very near death from stab wounds. No, in her mind, he was the dwarf rising from the tub only a short while ago—powerful and strong, with bands of thick muscle wrapped about his shoulders and upper arms, his broad chest just as muscled beneath a layer of dark hair curling away from his skin. It took every bit of will she possessed to not let her gaze drop when he'd stood, for she had the feeling those soaked small clothes would have given her an eyeful.

Elrond would be furious if he knew where her thoughts lay. Not only because she was a healer and Thorin her patient, but she was an elf and he was a dwarf. She had to keep her distance, but at the same time, doing so became far more difficult, the more time she spent with him. At one time, she'd agreed with the elf belief that dwarves were greedy and ill-tempered, that they would fight with anyone over anything and when it came to women, they took any woman they wanted, whether she was willing or not.

That simply did not fit the dwarf she'd come to know. Oh, Thorin could be bull-headed and stubborn, and proud to a fault, but he didn't seem particularly violent (battle did not count, of course) and no matter how many times she told Bilbo Baggins Thorin did not wish to receive visitors, the hobbit refused to leave, so there was that loyalty to consider as well. Not to mention, Elrond had told her earlier that the remainder of the Company, as Gandalf referred to them, were due sometime in the next day. To hear Gandalf tell it, Thorin's people were concerned with his well being, and it was only because Gandalf told them to wait a while before descending upon Rivendell that they hadn't invaded prior to now.

But now, Thorin looked almost pensive, as if something heavy weighed upon him. "Is there something on your mind?" she asked finally, her hand against his shoulder.

"No, not really. I actually feel good, for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. I'd forgotten what it was like, to feel whole."

"I told you this day would come."

He turned to offer her a rare grin. "Aye, you did tell me."

"So, if nothing is on your mind, why do you look so serious?"

"I'm just watching them."

As he said them, he pointed to the small flashes of bright yellow light dotting the courtyard. She smiled at him. "Fireflies?"