The Ties That Bind

Chapter Thirty-Two

The room was quiet and Eirlys sighed softly at the serenity all around. She was exactly where she wished to be—her head nestled against Thorin's chest, his arm about her, his fingers skimming along her upper arm, her arm draped about his hips. The linens and quilts lay in a tangle at the foot of the bed, their clothes heaped in a pile on the floor on his side.

It was perfect.

"What's on your mind?" Thorin's whisper rose like a mist to hang in the tranquil peace enveloping them.

"Not much, really."

His fingers slowed. "Is that good or bad?"

She rose onto one elbow to gaze down at him. A lone candle flickered on the bedside table on Thorin's side, burnishing his left side ivory while leaving his right side in shadow. His dark hair streamed across his pillows, that candlelight dancing along the curls, highlighting the silver threads woven amongst the black strands. His eyes glittered like pale stones, heavy-lidded and seductive without his even trying.

"It's good," she murmured, reaching down to trace her forefinger along his jaw. "I'm trying not to think about Ravenhill all that much, as I'd much rather just put it all behind me."

"I understand that all too well." A slight smile accompanied his words.

"I know. If anyone, you would definitely understand."

"And I will understand if you'd rather not speak of what happened there."

She hesitated. It seemed silly to her to want to avoid the topic. She certainly didn't suffer up there the way he had when he'd battled Azog. The worst part of it was, of course learning of Madris' betrayal, but that was nothing compared to being run through. She carried no wounds, no scars.

"Thorin..." Her finger went still. "Do you... do you still think about what happened, when you faced Azog at Ravenhill? Do you replay it in your mind and think about what you might have done differently?"

"More than I care to think about," he told her softly, his fingers resuming their strokes, sweeping up, then down over her arm. "I let my guard down with him, underestimated his strength and his resolve, which was almost as strong as my own. But, you have to understand, Eirlys... I chose to let him run me through."

"You—you let him?" She couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"I had to. It was the only way to make certain that my family—or what would be left of it—was safe. I'd failed Fíli. I'd failed Kíli. So, if I let him run me through, I thought I might buy myself enough time to repay him the favor and in doing so, remove the threat permanently."

"So, you let him run you through?"

He nodded. "I did. And it worked. And fortunately for me, I didn't die, but that's mostly because Óin refused to let me."

"Remind me to thank him for that."

He grinned up at her. "Of course."

"Weren't you scared? Because when I was there, I was terrified."

"I know I'm supposed to tell you no, that I wasn't at all frightened, that I knew exactly what I was doing and how it would play through." He shifted then, easing away from her to roll onto his side. His hand came to rest on her belly, his thumb brushing in a gentle arc atop the quilt that lay over them. "But truth be told, I had no idea if what I'd hoped would work, would actually work. And all I knew was that if it didn't, it would mean the end of the line of Durin, for I had no doubt he wouldn't have stopped with me, Fíli, and Kíli. He wouldn't have stopped until we were all gone. I would not fail my sister as I had her sons."