The Ties That Bind

Chapter Four

Sunlight streamed in through the canopy and bounced across the bed to hit Thorin square in the face, waking him far earlier than he wished to be woken. He regretted opening his eyes as soon as he did so, and brought up a hand to shade them as he rolled onto his side to offer his back to the offending light.

His bed was soft and comfortable, he was cozy and snug beneath smooth linens and warm quilts. But despite the comfort and coziness, Thorin's mood wasn't a good one. He'd hoped that the previous evening would have ended with him realizing what a mistake he'd made in fighting Dís about marrying Princess Eirlys.

However, after having met her, he was convinced their union would be doomed from the start. He'd expected her to be demure and reserved, to by shy and blush when she met his gaze.

In short, he'd expected her to be a very different person from the one she was in actuality.

Perhaps it was foolish of him to assume how she would behave. After all, her father was not the most diplomatic of men, so why should she be? He was a fool to think she was anything other than the brash, lippy woman who seemed to speak her mind without hesitation.

Going back to sleep was impossible. His mind whirled too much for him to even attempt to sleep. So, with a sigh of irritation, he kicked back the linens and sat up, then slid to the edge of the bed to rise.

The room was chilly, biting into his bared skin as he stood, then padded to his trunk, where he pulled out fresh small clothes, trousers, and a heavy dark gray henley. He was just buttoning his trousers when there came a knock at the door.

"Who goes?"

"It's me, Thorin."

His henley in his hand, he padded across the room to pull open the door. "Dís? What're you doing up at this hour?"

"Same as you, I'd imagine. The sunlight doesn't often stream into my chambers back home."

He smiled despite his heavy mood. "You would be correct. I don't even know what time it is."

"Not even seven, I think. May I come in?"

He stepped aside. "Of course."

She swept by him and as he tugged the henley over his head, she said, "Last eve did not quite go how we thought it might, did it?"

"And how did you think it would go?"

"Well, I thought the princess would come back out onto the dance floor."

He emerged from the neck hole of his shirt, frowning as he moved to lace the front. "Why? Dís, I think you expect too much, too quickly."

"Well, she certainly didn't look happy when she left the great hall." She offered up a long look. "Why might that be?"

"Why are you asking me? I assure you, I had nothing to do with it."

"Thorin."

"What?" He shook his head. "I didn't."

"She seemed all too happy to let me step in."

"As I said," he sank onto the edge of the bed to tug on his hose, and then boots, "you expect too much, too quickly. She is no happier about this marriage than I am."

"Well, with the way you brood, I can hardly fault her."

He looked up. "What is that supposed to mean? Dís, I don't know this woman. And yet you think what? We should have been sneaking off to find a darkened corner?"

She gave him a long look, then rolled her eyes. "There is a happy medium, you know. Something in between mortal enemies and aroused lovers."

"There is no happy medium, as there is nothing there at all. I've only just met her, remember." He finished tugging on his first boot, then reached for the second boot. "I know her name and that she says what she thinks and not much else."