The Ties That Bind

Chapter Fifteen

The inn's dining room ran the whole width of the rear of the building and apparently did a brisk business, considering the inn's location. They were seated nearest the hearth, where the chilled, somewhat damp room was the warmest and as he settled with his back to the corner, Thorin had to fight to keep from scowling at Eirlys, at Dwalin, at everyone in the dining room. No easy feat, considering how furious he was with himself. He'd come dangerously close to giving into the heat she'd sent spiraling through him when she laid her hand on his forearm.

Had Dwalin not interrupted them, Thorin had no doubts that he'd have capitulated, that he'd have swept Eirlys first into his arms and then into bed and he'd have lost himself in her and that utterly amazing pleasure she sent screaming through him.

And he'd have been furious at himself the moment peace—and his sanity—returned. While he'd no doubt enjoy her in the moment, it wouldn't undo the fact that he'd seen her in the arms of another man. And not just any man, but an elf.

His fingers curled of their own, tightening into a fist as the scene at Mirkwood flashed through his mind. Oh, Eirlys could deny it all she wished. He knew what he'd seen.

But now, as his fingers relaxed and he just sat back, fortified with a heavy stout and a filling venison stew, watching as Eirlys chatted with Dwalin and Dís. The three spoke as if they were old friends, their conversation flowing as naturally as a river.

They seemed to forget he was even there and yet, he didn't mind at all. Instead, he sat back and just listened to the melodic tone of Eirlys' voice, just watched how the hundreds of flickering candles in the iron lamps suspended from the heavy dark beams overhead danced along her golden hair. It reminded him of the molten gold they'd used in an attempt to drown Smaug, pale and shimmering as it flowed down her back.

"Get you anything else?"

Thorin forced a smile at their serving girl. "Thank you, but no. I think we are just about finished here."

"Are ye certain?"

He nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"Of course."

The serving girl moved on to her next table, and Dwalin looked over at him. "I'd have liked another ale, Thorin."

"The hour grows late," Thorin replied evenly, "and I wish to leave at first light. So, any further ales will have to wait until we're back within Erebor's gates."

"Ye might have mentioned that earlier," Dwalin grumbled.

"Oh, hush." Dís swatted him in the middle of his chest with the back of her hand. "You know full well what it is like to travel with my brother. Never a wasted bit of sunlight."

Eirlys glanced over at him as well. "But I thought we were very near Erebor. Do we truly need to leave so early?"

Dís offered up a hint of a grin. "We could sleep in a bit, Thorin. That way if you wish to make a night of it here—"

Thorin's gut twisted. Then, Dwalin chortled, which caused Thorin's gut to tighten further still. "Dís, now is not the time and here is definitely not the place. And yes, Eirlys, we do need to leave so early. I've been away from Erebor too long and shirked my duties in the process."

He didn't know if he expected her to blush and stammer and ask for his pardon, but she did none of those things. Instead, she offered up a smile that aggravated him as much as his sister's needling, and her voice was calm and even as she replied, "Of course. I should have known that. You must have plenty of work awaiting you."

"I do, indeed." He grabbed his half-full tankard and lifted it to his lips. Two swallows and the tankard was empty. "Now, if you will excuse me."

With that, he pushed up from the table, grabbed the Orcrist, and strode from the dining room, not caring who stared at him. He needed to get out of there, as the room had grown far too warm, and this thoughts far too lusty enough, for his comfort. Blast it all, anyway. He knew his wife was a faithless creature. He'd seen it with his own eyes.