The Ties That Bind

Chapter Nine

Sleep mocked him. And after all of the wine he'd had? He should be sleeping the sleep of the dead. He should be so soundly asleep, it would take Dís and Dwalin to rouse him come morning.

Instead, Thorin lay there in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling—if one could call the mass of woven vines and branches above him a ceiling, that is—while everyone throughout Mirkwood most likely snored away.

Now, walk me back and then, if you wish, you can go and sneak off with your bride.

Sometimes, he wished his sister wasn't so good at reading him. No one else had that same ability, and no matter how hard he tried, Dís was rarely fooled by anything he said or did. She saw through him. And she had no shame in calling him out on it, either.

Worse still? She also was never wrong.

He wasn't wide awake because he was nervous about the coming morning. This was his duty, of course, and what was in the best interest of his people, and he found he rather liked Eirlys as well, so it wasn't that he dreaded it, either.

No, it was because he wanted to see her.

Because he couldn't stop thinking about her.

But he didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about her.

No, that wasn't entirely true. He knew why. He simply did not understand why. It was but one kiss, after all.

One kiss that lit something of a fire inside him.

Mahal...

With a low sigh, he kicked back the light coverlet and slid from the bed. The room was quiet, except for the occasional chirp of whatever creatures came alive at night in the woodlands just beyond him.

The wood beneath his bare feet was warm as he padded out onto the terrace, where he leaned against the railing. Though his eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness, he still could make out little through the foliage.

Now, walk me back and then, if you wish, you can go and sneak off with your bride.

He smiled, imaging Eirlys' reaction, should he show up on her terrace. He didn't know her well at all, but had the feeling she might hand him his head if he did any such thing.

But what if she didn't?

It was only unfortunate that he didn't know where her room were in relation to where he was, otherwise the temptation to go and find out might be too much to resist.

The wood beneath his hands was cool, as was the night air that wrapped about him. There was peace in the darkness. It made him think of Erebor, especially of the ramparts on a summer night. He often went up there when he needed time away from everyone else, time to think or clear his head.

This was the first time in Mirkwood that he hadn't felt uncomfortable or completely out of place. The first time had him seeing the inside of a dungeon cell. The second, he'd been treated with more respect, but Thranduíl had also been more than bit aloof.

But this time? This time, Thranduíl treated him as an equal. And yet, Thorin still didn't feel as if he belonged.

Except for when he was with Eirlys.

"Thorin?"

He jumped at Dwalin's soft-for-Dwalin voice coming from behind him. He turned to see him in the doorway leading out to the terrace. "What are you doing here?"

"I had a hunch ye'd still be up. Nerves getting to ye?"

"Hardly." Thorin turned toward him, sinking onto the edge of the railing, hands clasped between his knees. "What brings you here, though? I should, by all reason, be fast asleep by now. And so should you, by the by."