How I Leave You

The First Goodbye

I do not attempt to hide my naked body from Freiya's line of vision.

Instead, I let her take a good look as she barges in through the bedroom door, suddenly halting in the entrance with the surprise painted all over her face.

Her eyes take all of it in: Thorin's broad, naked chest, and my hand that rests upon it, caressing the coat of fine black hairs there. His wide, muscular shoulders, the bare image of which I am fairly certain she must have fantasized about more times than I wish to count. My leg twisted across his lower body, just barely covering him.

Thorin is the one who grabs the animal pelt, throwing it over the both of us.

"My king—" she mumbles, flushed from head to toe.

What had she expected to find here? A lonely king with no one to warm his bed?

"What do you want?" he says, his voice deep and dismissive.

I sit up a little straighter, not bothering to hide behind the fur. Instead, I curiously await what she has to say. This should be good.

"I, uhh— I..."

"Trouble finding your chambers?" I ask, tilting my head.

"No, my lady," she mutters, awkwardly curtsying.

It is incredibly difficult to hold down my laughter. It bubbles up in my throat and threatens to come spilling out of my mouth.

"In that case," Thorin says, putting an arm around me, "what are you doing in ours?"

"My apologies." She looks like she might cry. "I was just leaving."

And leave she does, albeit a bit clumsily. Her hands are shaking as she reaches for the door to close it behind her, and I must admit that some part of me, no matter how small, feels sorry for her.

But when stillness falls upon the room again, and her footsteps have receded from the hallway, my pity evaporates into a chuckle.

Thorin quickly joins in with my laughter, and I bury my head in his side. He holds me tight, pulling me closer, and there is something unspoken in the air around us. It is the conversation we are going to have tomorrow that hangs over us, threatening, looming.

But it is still night, and the sun with its new day remains far away. Right now, all there is is the comfort of the pelt and the warmth of his skin beneath my own. The softness of his hair and the silver streaks that run through it. The remnants of a smile on his lips.

For now, we do not need to speak. Least of all about what is going to happen when the morning comes.

With the gentlest of touches, Thorin's finger traces patterns only visible to him on my skin. He is terribly focused on his task, and perhaps it's the concentration on his face, or maybe the memory of Freiya's shock, but suddenly, I cannot hold back my giggles.

"What?" he rumbles, and though it sounds intimidating, he still grins.

"It tickles," I say. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"Charting how you glisten."

This makes me laugh even harder.

"How I glisten?"

"Do not mock me, siren."

The laughter flows out from my throat, leaking into every corner of the room, and though my body shakes with my chuckles, the dwarven king remains undeterred on his task. His finger stubbornly tracks every piece of crystal that has lodged itself into my skin, lurking just beneath it, faintly glinting in the moonlight.