Complicated (Thorin Oakenshield x Reader) [Slow Updates]

Chapter Sixteen

As the wind whips through her hair, (Y/N) lets out a sigh of contentment. The eagles had been flying for at least an hour, and it was a welcome bit of rest. The other members of the company appear to be napping atop their own birds- all of them except Thorin, that is.

She leans over the bird's neck to look down at him, only to find that he is still hanging limply from the beast's talons, his dark hair obscuring his face. She leans back, worry etched into her features. This can't have all been for nothing . . . all that I've sacrificed . . . if that damn Dwarf doesn't survive, I swear I'll kill him.

She sighs, shaking off the thought and closing her eyes. Enjoying the deliciousness of the cool breeze against her skin, the softness of the eagle's feathers, the scent of the fresh mountain air . . . it would be so incredibly peaceful if not for her turmoil within.

Groaning at her pesky, burdensome mind, she sprawls out on her back, staring up at the lightening sky. Slowly, she allows her eyes to flutter closed again. Sleep would do her some good . . .

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She awakes with a start as the eagle's talons hit stone. It appeared this was their stop.

Leaping gracefully off of the bird's back and muttering a thanks for the lift, she notices Thorin laying a few feet away, apparently having already been set down by the eagle. Gandalf is bent over him, saying his name repeatedly. She rushes over, moving to check his pulse.

Please don't be dead, please don't be dead . . .

She grows frantic, not feeling a pulse, until Gandalf begins muttering an incantation. From nothing, she feels his pulse grow until it seems he's stable. She lets out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.

Slowly, the Dwarf's eyes open, and he looks up at the two of them, (Y/N) in particular. He narrows his eyes. She backs up as he stumbles to his feet, a few of the others helping support him before he trudges up to her, grabbing a hold of her arm.

"You!" his voice is a stern growl, his piercing blue eyes locking with hers. "What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!"

She scoffs, trying to pull her arm back to no avail.

"Oh please, I was perfectly fine!" she speaks, matching his intensity. She watches as he eyes the wound on her shoulder, brow furrowed. She covers it with her free hand.

". . . that was from before."

Thorin shakes his head dismissively.

"Even so, you could have died. And your kinswoman . . . she did." (Y/N) lowers her gaze, fighting to keep the tears from her eyes at the mere mention of Annabelle. His gaze softens a bit.

"I cannot help but wonder . . . why?"

She stands there, motionless. Why had she spared him, really? Sure, she was opposed to the thought of killing someone, and she did owe him for saving her life once or twice, but was that really all? Was that what had led her to simply allow her sister's death? It couldn't be all.

"I . . . I'm not certain myself, if I'm being honest. Maybe . . . maybe I couldn't help but distrust Azog's bargain. After all, once I killed you, there would have been nothing stopping him from slaughtering Annabelle regardless . . . maybe some part of me knew her dead all along . . ." her voice trails off, the last bits nearly a whisper.

Swallowing slowly, she met his gaze once again, her jaw set.

"However, I want to make it clear that I did not make that sacrifice lightly, Thorin, son of Thrain. If I can't protect my sister any longer, you'd best believe I'm protecting her memory, and that means protecting you."

He frowns slightly, letting go of his grip on her arm.

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, lady (Y/L/N)."

"Make no mistake, I do not think you helpless. It's simply the least I can do to see you through your quest safely. You understand, after what the Pale Orc has done, I must see to it that he doesn't get his way."

Thorin nods at this. Still, something appears different in the way he looks at her. She couldn't tell if it was respect, appreciation, or something else entirely, but a small smile rises to her face at the warmth of his gaze.

Hearing the beating of wings, she sees the great eagles over Thorin's shoulder, retreating back to the mountains, their work complete. It seems that Thorin has spotted something over her own shoulder as well, as his expression is suddenly one of awe. She turns around, gasping.

"Is that what I think it is?"

They all stride up to the tip of the rock formation, not nearly believing their eyes. Yet, it seems to be true.

"Erebor," Gandalf states, confirming her thoughts. "The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great Dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth." (Y/N) turns to look at Thorin, who seems to have tears welling up in his eyes.

"Our home," he breathes.

Sudden chirping is heard from beside them as a small bird flutters toward the mountain.

"A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain!" Oin exclaims. Gandalf shakes his head.

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush."

(Y/N) recalls the snippets of conversation she'd heard in Rivendell. Where the thrush knocks, she thinks, her chest suddenly brimming with hope.

"But we'll take it as a sign," says Thorin, turning to meet her gaze with a rare smile on his face, one that makes her heart leap. "A good omen."

She smiles back.

"You're right!" she says, optimism in her voice as they watch the thrush vanish into the distant horizon, the setting sun illuminating its wings as it went. "Not to jinx it, but I do believe the worst is behind us!"

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