After the Fire

Chapter Forty-Nine

Mornings in Mirkwood were so much different from those in Erebor, as sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves that made up the roof of their chambers and not only that, but as the sun rose, the birds awakened. The sweet singing found its way into Jasna's dreams, then gently nudged her awake.

The mornings were her favorite time, no matter where she was, and they'd become even more since that first night she spent with Thorin. For one who'd spent the majority of his life sleeping alone, Thorin was a cuddler by nature, it seemed. Night after night, she drifted off with her head tucked against his chest and an arm draped about his middle, and each morning, when she awoke, it was to find his arm tight about her, her back flush against his chest and if she tried to move, that arm would tighten about her just enough.

He also talked in his sleep. At times, it was quite amusing, as he made little sense, and more than once, she would respond, just to see how he'd answer back. She wasn't disappointed.

Then there were also times when his nightmares woke him and those nights were the ones she hated the most. She didn't know what he dreamed, nor did she understand him, as he would talk and sometimes even yell in khuzdul, but whatever it was, he'd thrash about, sweating as if on fire. Sometimes he roared in pain, other times those howls were primal grief. The only words she'd ever understood were Azog and Bolg and she had no idea what the latter meant. Come the morning, when she'd ask, he claimed he couldn't recall what had haunted him only hours earlier and she knew better than to press.

But last eve, he slept peacefully and now, he lay on his side behind her, his arm draped about her hips, so she gently untangled herself and slid to the edge of the bed, leaning over to fish Thorin's henley from the floor where he'd let it fall in his haste to strip it from his back last night, and slipped into it. It fell halfway down her thighs and she smiled as she buttoned it to keep herself from falling out of it.

"It looks good on you, amrâlimê."

She jerked her head up at Thorin's unexpected words. "Did I wake you?"

"Not at all." He yawned, then slowly sat up, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "And even if you had, this is a sight I do not mind rising to. My wife is a beautiful woman, indeed."

A pleasant heat stung her cheeks. For one used to being the odd man out, Jasna didn't think she'd ever be used to Thorin's finding her beautiful. "I don't think your eyes are focusing properly yet."

"My eyes are fine." He stretched toward her, catching her by the wrist to pull her back toward the bed.

She offered no resistance as his arms slid about her waist and he maneuvered her onto her back across the bed. "Thorin, what are you doing?"

"What? Seeing you this way gives me thoughts, and since there is no reason why I cannot act upon those thoughts..."

His voice trailed off and she smiled, winding her arms about his neck. "Thoughts, you say?"

He nodded as he bent toward her, whispering, "Thoughts," just before his lips came down onto hers.

His kiss was gentle and teasing, and when he drew back, Jasna murmured, "What are you about, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Me?" His eyes went wide with a feigned innocence that had her biting back her smile. He shook his head then. "Absolutely nothing."

"Thorin."

"What?" He brought one hand to the buttons holding his shirt closed and gently eased the top one back through its hole, shaking his head once more. "Why would you think I am up to something?"

"Up to something?" Her smile grew more difficult to hold back when the next button slipped slid easily through its hole, followed by the third and the neck of his shirt widened enough to offer him a peek at her. "Not something, dwarf. One very particular thing."