My Heart Burns [ThorinxOC]

Chapter 3

Nyrath reached the tavern where he and the other Dwarves ate their meals earlier than he usually did. There was no one there yet other than some of the cooks. The keeper of the place, Princess Dis, had not arrived yet, and Nyrath had to admit that he was grateful for it. He didn't know what he would have said to her. He didn't feel at all like himself.

He pulled a chair from a table and took it outside on the wooden porch. The sky was still dark, but he simply couldn't be inside the even blacker night of the tavern. In spite of the candles burning here and there, the low ceilings and the smell of wet wood made him feel sick.

He sat down and took out his pipe. He always kept it well protected under his coat so that it stayed dry. He stuffed it fresh with pipe weed and sparked it up. The fragrant smoke always made things better. Now it settled the pain in his heart into a low-humming echo of itself. Taking a good puff of his pipe, he sat back and thought with dampened passion of the previous night's events. Although he had desired to be with Thorin in that way, he had hesitated, and now he knew why. It was not because Thorin was a prince and Nyrath felt responsible to defend his interests as such. It was because he'd known, deep inside, that it would open up a door within himself which would have better stayed closed.

Nyrath let his gaze fall down to his knees, as his pipe followed the same course. Yet, his attention was caught by another dwarf marching towards the tavern. He looked up and saw Dwalin emerging from the hood draped over his head. A fine drizzle had begun again to ooze from the dark.

"You can't sleep either?" asked Dwalin as he shook off freezing rain from his cloak.

Nyrath smiled at him, confirming.

"Mind if I join you?" said Dwalin.

"Not at all."

Dwalin brought his own chair, sat down on it and worked on his pipe until it was puffing out a cloud of smoke. He leaned against the back of his chair and glanced at Nyrath without saying anything.

Nyrath glanced back. A question began to grow in his mind. "Dwalin, what would you have done if you hadn't been a warrior?"

Dwalin gave him a perplexed look.

"You've never thought about that, have you?"

"No, I can't say as I have. I didn't think you had either."

"No, I was just wondering."

"Wondering means you're thinking about it."

Nyrath resisted a scowl, but Dwalin's perceptive words came as a full punch in his ribs. "Humour me, will you?"

Dwalin rested his elbow on his knee and thought, actually thought for a while. "I really have no idea. So far I've been a blacksmith. I suppose I would have done that."

"We're all blacksmiths," said Nyrath, spitting out a bit of foul-tasting pipe weed. "Or other sorts of tinkerers."

Dwalin seemed to resist rolling his eyes.

"Have you ever considered raising a family?"

"Oh, well, no, not really."

"No one caught your eye yet?"

"It's not that. I am a warrior and that's all I want to be."

Nyrath smiled and looked down.

"I thought you felt the same," said Dwalin.

"I do," said Nyrath. "But still, I wonder if there isn't more to it than that. I mean, aren't we too quick to give up our lives?"

"To protect our king and our people? Not a chance."