The Ties That Bind

Chapter Fourteen

Thorin sat across from her in the coach, his face voice of emotion as he turned to peer out the window. Eirlys glanced over at Madris, who was busy with her knitting, and then looked back up at Thorin. For all the good it did. He hadn't met her gaze once, not a single time in the four hours since they'd departed from Mirkwood.

He spoke to his sister, but that was it and at first, that was just fine with her. But when Madris leaned her head back and drifted off to sleep, leaving Eirlys on her own, it wasn't quite so fine. She let her eyes close and tried to force herself to drift off to sleep as well, and when that didn't work, she played dead. Not that it mattered. Thorin gave no indication at all that he had any interest in speaking with her.

But, when he and Dís chatted amongst themselves, the sound of Thorin's deep voice alone was enough to send a delicious shiver along her spine and she wished more than anything that Dís and Madris were in any other coach so she could actually talk to Thorin. As aggravating as it was to have him accuse her of something she didn't do, she just knew that if they could actually talk, she could get him to believe her. Didn't her father always say she had a gift for finding her way out of trouble as easily as she found her way into it?

The trouble was, she didn't want an audience to this. And as long as Dís and Madris were both sitting right there...

She groaned inwardly. How had something so simple become so blasted difficult? She never had any problem talking to anyone. Her father used to tell her she could talk the ears off a gold statue if she set her mind to it.

So how was it that one man was so very capable of rendering her at a loss for words?

She pondered the situation as she also turned to peer through the window. The road from Mirkwood was fairly open, but that didn't mean orc packs couldn't be lying in wait for them, even with the Royal Guards Thranduíl ordered to travel with them. Thorin traveled far too lightly for Thranduíl's liking, and so he'd insisted on sending along the extra muscle to accompany them to Erebor. At first, Eirlys thought that was a bit overbearing on his part, but now, as she peered out at the expanse that lay between Mirkwood and Erebor, she was grateful for them. Thorin didn't travel like any other king she'd ever known, but instead seemed to think he was still Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of a small band of homeless dwarves who'd passed through Mirkwood not quite three years earlier.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Dís settle back and close her eyes. A few minutes later, the dwarrowdam snored softly in time with Madris. Her heart began to beat faster as she turned back toward Thorin, her pulse now pounding through her veins as she whispered, "I didn't know she snored."

At first, Thorin said nothing. But then, he glanced over at Dís. "She has since we were children. She talks in her sleep as well."

"Madris does, too. But she makes no sense."

That earned her a slight grin. "Dís babbles in khuzdal. She also makes no sense, but if you answer her, she will reply in kind. Fíli and Kíli used to think it was great fun to make conversation with her when she slept."

"I don't speak your language," she confessed, her spirits rising. "But perhaps you might teach me?"

He held her gaze for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "I could, yes."

"Is it difficult to learn?"

"It wasn't for me."

She gave him a long look. "You know what I mean."

"No, it won't be difficult for you. You are no fool."

"I thank you for noticing."

"I have."