||Chapter 36||
<|Third Age 2974|>
It had been slightly longer than a week since the return of Endor and Thorin to Erebor, and things were back to normal for the fortress. The mines continued to dig out riches in gold and silver, as the forges melted them into priceless possessions, meant for the people and not for the king. A second throne had been placed next to that of Thorin, habitually sat in by the talkative Queen Under the Mountain. Whether it was to congratulate her or criticize her, Endor Durin was a radiant light within the dark tunnels of the Lonely Mountain.
Although busy, Endor loves her life here in the Mountain, not simply because she is away from the Shire. No, from waking up to her soulmate, to eating with her family, to ruling over a kingdom where they value her ideas, to spending her free time with Frodo, she could not have thought of anything happier. During the days of work, she never once leaves Thorin's side, joining war councils over the rising threat of orcs despite the dwarven ideas that women should not partake in battle. But within a week, perhaps due to the dagger Endor threatened Ingo with, the men have accepted her into their ranks.
On the ninth day after her return from Bag End, Endor experiences another bout of nausea like the day prior. It is nothing like the colds that often hit the lands during the winter, causing vomit, but still dizzying and nauseating. After having caught her stumbling yesterday, the King Under the Mountain is finding no humor in her illness, forcing her to sit as he crouches in front of her.
"You need to go see Oin," Thorin tells her, placing a rebellious piece of hair behind her ear and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. And yet, they both know that Thorin has no clue what he is doing, having never measured for a fever before.
"I hate going to the healers. I'll survive fine on my own," Endor says in that streak of stubbornness that kept her from the healer's for ten years. Indeed, the last time she went to the healer in the Shire, they made her vomit as a remedy for sickness. It's quite understandable why she despises those places.
"Please, Endor. I will go with you," Thorin begs, paranoid about losing his wife after no more than a month of marriage. Sure, that would be an extreme case, but Thorin Oakenshield has always been one to fear the worst.
"Fine, but only if you hold my hand," Endor relents, falling for Thorin's blue eyes once again as he grins and pulls her to the infirmary. You would think, for a girl with blue eyes herself, that Endor would be immune to their gaze. But then again, there is something about Thorin's eyes that make her agree to everything.
The medical practices of the Shire are no where near as advanced as those of the dwarves. Whereas the hobbits fall to either bloodletting, eating, or vomiting for cures, Oin uses a variety of devices to check Endor for sickness. Thorin, being used to such things, thinks nothing of it. But Endor, well, she looks like she's witnessing some strange voodoo practice of the elves.
After tapping on her ribs in an attempt to hear them echo, Oin rushes off into a side room, leaving Endor to send a look to Thorin along the lines of 'this is crazy.' And despite the fears stirring in his chest, Thorin grins at her, stepping closer into her side as Oin walks into the room. And the moment he does, Thorin knows Endor is fine.
"I think congratulations are in order," Oin says, grinning almost madly and effectively starting to scare the hobbit.
"I'm not dying?" Endor remarks sarcastically, though with a genuine touch as Oin seems to have finally lost his marbles. Do not get her wrong, Endor loves Oin, but that does not mean she is convinced of his complete sanity, especially after the past few minutes.
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Endotherm {Thorin/Hobbit}
Fanfiction"The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in M...
