More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was late by the time they returned to Erebor, and the Great Hall was dark and quiet. Even the fires had been extinguished for the night. Thorin swore softly as they stepped inside, only to find the light from the wall-mounted torches wasn't quite enough to see by.

"Arielle," he turned to her, "you go on down below and I'll show Elen to his new chambers."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. He'll get lost beyond lost if I try to explain it and I do not feel like having to rescue him from the depths of the city tonight."

Elen was wide-eyed, staring all around at the immense hall, and promptly fell over a chair. The clatter echoed all around them, and Elen got tangled up in the chair and slammed down atop it.

Thorin leaned close to whisper, "Is he always this graceful?"

She nodded. "I ramble, he's a clod. But to be fair, he went from a four room flat to... to this..." She gestured around them, then smiled at him. "And as the guest of a king. A bit of clumsiness is to be expected."

He moved to help Elen to his feet and she bit back a sigh. Seeing Thorin punch out Alfryd was a sight she'd never forget and it stirred her lust for him in ways she never knew could exist. No man ever defended her honor that way before. Most of them seemed to think that her being an Elf-Man mix gave them free reign to try to cop a feel, or offer up lewd suggestions to her, that it gave them license to try things they would never dare attempt with the women of Dale.

But Thorin took offense on her behalf and when he threw that punch, she wanted only to tackle him onto the nearest flat surface and have her way with him. And had Elen not been only a floor above, she very well might have done just that.

Elen stood. "Sorry about that."

"It's quite all right," Thorin assured him, picking up the chair Elen had fallen over. "Let's get you settled. Hopefully without breaking anything."

She smiled as she leaned in to brush her brother's cheek with a kiss. "Good night, El. I'm glad you're here."

"'Night, Ari. So am I."

Thorin caught her about the waist with one arm, pressing a warm key into her hand. "I'll be down in a bit, amrâlimê. Do me a favor and turn down my bed?"

"Of course. Take your time and don't get lost."

"Erebor is my home, Arielle," he said with a grin. "I don't get lost here."

They parted ways then and she went below, pausing at the door to his flat. She slipped the key into its keyhole and turned, and the door handle turned easily. Inside, the single torch on the wall above the sofa flickered, and she smiled. The sofa cushions were still creased and smashed from their afternoon tryst.

She padded thorough to his bedchamber and set the key on the table beside the bed. Thorin's bed was neatly made, covered in quilts of dark blue, black, and gray and when she drew those quilts down, beneath them were soft, dark blue linens.

It was cold in his flat, the hearth clean, but dark. She set about getting a fire going, and was just straightening up when the door opened and he called, "Arielle?"

"I'm in here."

He thumped to the bedchamber and paused in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. "He's settled. And I warned him to wait until the morning, when I would show him around. Do I trust him to not explore now?"

"Probably. He would hate to have to be rescued on his first night." She gestured to the hearth. "It was cold in here."

He smiled. "I'll keep you warm, amrâlimê. You never need worry about that."