Endotherm {Thorin/Hobbit}

||Chapter 19||

||Chapter 19||

<|Third Age 2974|>

    With the previous day being spent apart once more, following after the morning incident, Thorin cannot help wishing for Endor's company more than ever.  His days seem tenfold more irritating and mind numbing without the excitement of seeing her later in the day.  Thorin must admit, though he may never say it out loud, that Endor is the reason he gets up in the mornings.  Just the few hours together is a beloved gift for the king.

    But Thorin sincerely considers going back on that statement the next morning, when he is literally awoken for the mere purpose of visiting her.  Like the day prior, it is very early in the morn, though Thorin does not even expect it to be dawn like yesterday.  If anything, it must be near four in the morning, and certainly no later.

    It's a knock to an oaken door that startles him from a restless sleep, head piled in the pillows and arms twisted in the luxurious sheets of his bed.  Thorin is warm and comfortable, with not even the slightest desire to move from this safe haven.  If he were to say any of this outloud, the others might mistake him as a teenage human.

"Who is it?" Thorin shouts gruffly, feeling no need to put on his kingly filter for anyone awakening him this early in the morning.  And as it turns out, this would not have been necessary in the first place, with Dwalin pacing into the room without hesitation.  If the king can be his rude self with anyone, it is Dwalin.

"Endor needs you.  Apparently enough to wake me and send me to get you," Dwalin grunts, just as Thorin recognizes that Dwalin is still in his sleeping apparel.  With a large cap to cover his bald head and furry slippers, the grumpy dwarf can easily be seen as a jolly old man.  It takes all of Thorin's muddled conviction not to laugh at this thought and sight.

However, Thorin then takes recognition on Dwalin's words, a good minute after the other dwarf muttered them.  Rolling his eyes, Thorin sits up in the bed with a large groan of pain, reassuring everyone of his old age.  His legs shift over the edge of the bed, pausing as Thorin considers simply going back to sleep and ignoring the woman.  However, what if she is in trouble and needs him?

"She is such a child," the king remarks, thinking better of the fact that she might be hurt.  If Thorin knows anything, as he heaves himself off the bed and to the floor, it's that Endor will always feel capable of defending herself.  She would take on a troop of orcs single-handedly just to show that she is an 'independent woman in need of no man.'  Thorin has lost count as to how many times she has told him just this.

Throwing on a worn blue tunic, Thorin leaves his chambers behind Dwalin, kicking himself for not grabbing shoes.  The cold floor sends chills up his spine with each footstep, making him ponder how in the world Endor always walks around barefoot.  Thorin believes it must be the fact that there are no nerves in the feet of hobbits, and leaves it at that.  But no matter the physics, this walk is killing Thorin.

When they arrive at Endor's door, Thorin surviving the stairs better than Endor did the day before, Dwalin simply leaves at the thought of sleeping for a few more hours.  Thorin thinks nothing bad of this, but wishes the same for himself.  His back hurts, his feet are cold, and his eyes are droopy.  It's official: Endor will be the end of him.

    Knocking slowly on the door, Thorin stirs himself awake with the reminder that Endor did this to him.  So when she sends a quick "enter" as an invitation, Thorin charges into the room, closing the door.  He takes no heed in propriety, as he goes to stand right next to her, at the bed's side, staring at the girl who is getting on his last nerve.  No words are exchanged between the two: Thorin glaring while Endor grins with humour.