Something in the Night

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Thorin strode back into the Great Hall, his emotions a maelstrom of fury and despair and what he was fairly certain was the shards of his broken heart stabbing him from the insides.

As he crossed into the Great Hall, Elisin emerged from the crowd with a smile on her lips that personified the word smug. Oh, her eyes were wide and filled with a feigned innocence, but that smile spoke volumes.

"Why are you still here?" he growled, staring at her in disbelief. She had stones bigger than most of the men he knew, to approach him as if thinking he'd actually be happy to see her.

"Well, because, with her gone now, I thought—"

"With her gone? Have you gone completely mad? Are you truly that stupid?" His voice rose with each word, his hands clenching as he spoke. "Did you think I would welcome you back? That I would just simply forget the woman I want to marry?"

"But, Thorin, I—"

"No!" The word rang out, reverberated throughout the hall with enough force that everyone fell silent, watching with great interest.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean just that! Take yourself from my sight and from Erebor and do not ever think to come back here. You are no longer welcome and I would rather die alone than spend one more moment in your presence." He stepped away from her, afraid he'd raise a hand to her otherwise. "Dwalin!"

Dwalin appeared as if by magic and without being told, he caught Elisin by the arm. "Ye've done more than enough damage here, ye wench," he growled, tugging none too gently on her, "and now, ye'll be leaving us for good."

Her protests rang out but Thorin ignored them, ignored her, ignored everyone around him as he stalked from the Great Hall. As he passed by Dís, she started to say something, but thought better of it as he stormed passed her. He saw nothing. Ignored everyone he came upon. He just wanted to be left alone.

Over the next few days, everyone in Erebor steered clear of Thorin, lest they wished to have their head bitten off for the slightest of things. Even he couldn't remember the last time his mood was so black. Not even when he was in the grips of dragon sickness and paranoid beyond reason about the Arkenstone, was he in so foul a mood.

Day after day found him up on the ramparts, staring off toward Dale. Every instinct he possessed fairly screamed at him to get to Dale as quickly as possible and right everything with Nina. But, he knew her. And he knew that it would change nothing. She would stand behind her sentiments.

But that also meant he'd have nothing to lose by trying again, didn't it?

"Thorin?"

He didn't start at the sound of Dís' voice, didn't turn away from where he gazed. "What is it?"

"Are you going to just spend the rest of your days up here?"

"I'm in no mood for a lecture, Dís." Now he turned toward her, shaking his head. "So spare us both, if you don't mind."

"I received word from Elisin that she made it safely back to Ered Luin."

"I care not what becomes of her," he replied flatly, shaking his head. "Because of her, I've lost—" His throat squeezed shut and he shook his head again. "You know what I've lost."

"Perhaps there is one here you might—"

Now his gut roiled. "There is none," he replied, his voice low. "I would rather die alone."

"Thorin," her hand came to rest on his shoulder, "surely, in time, when this is all but a bitter memory, you will be open to choosing another."

"I want no one else."