Mermaids Curse

Kick

Apparently the cave system ran deeper than initially expected for they found themselves scaling deeper into the ground for three days before finally making the ascent to the surface. The company had gone nearly four days without any issue other than Thorin sulking more than usual, having to endure a shorter temper and a sharper tongue.

Amara was the only one who didn't feel the wrath of Thorin, choosing to communicate with every other member of the company except him. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself though, totally indulging in the luxury of having people to finally talk to. She wasn't used to having guests, so revelled in their company and tried to converse with them as much as possible. She would even wake Bofur in the night just to talk to him, begging him to tell her more about toys. She had even tried to get Bilbo to describe to her the colour pink and what an apple looked like, and if you could get pink apples and 'why not?'

The company had finally settled down for the night, all except their leader who was sitting furthest away from the water; unable to sleep and busying himself with his sword and whetstone. This was a ritual he'd taken to doing every night, especially now these caves had seemed to render him sleepless.

"What bothers you so?" A quiet, soft voice broke the silence, and through the dim light of the dying fire Thorin could see the half breed gently cleaning against the rock on which the company had retired. Her head was tilted slightly, her glistening hair dancing in the fire light and her eyes were as large as ever.

"Nothing." He replied more gruffly than intended.

Amara furrowed her brow and donned a slight pout, "Oh?" She scooted closer to him, leaning further on the rock, "It doesn't feel like nothing?"

It was Thorin's turn to look puzzled and he lowered his sword and whetstone.

He was about to ask what she meant but she interrupted him, "What's that?" Her gold orbs flickered to the whetstone. It hadn't taken long for him to realise she had a short attention span, but she seemed to have the world's longest temperament, nothing seemed to bother her. She was the definition of 'breezy'.

"It's a whetstone."

"What's that? What does it do?"

Amara's POV

For the past few days I had tried to steer clear of Thorin, spending most my time gravitating around Bilbo and Bofur, and especially Bifur who was my favourite. Whenever I came near Thorin it felt as though someone threw a dry blanket over me. A storm cloud hung over his head and the air around him was filled with negativity, but not like doom and gloom, more anxiety, pressure and tension. He never relaxed, constantly on edge. To him there was no silver lining in anything.

I had approached him with hesitation, but something enticed me. I was curious to get to the bottom of his pain, I wanted to help him like Bifur.

"It's a filing stone, it sharpens weaponry." He picked up his sword and stone again and continued his long swift movements, avoiding eye contact.

"Can it sharpen my sword?"

"Yes."

"Can you sharpen my sword?"

He finally looked up at me, his grey eyes shining like silver in the fire light. Wordlessly he put down his own sword and held out a hand.

I blinked at him and recoiled slightly, feeling uneasy about getting out the water again. I had done it just the once to sit next to Bifur, but I knew I was safe with him. Thorin on the other hand...

"I won't hurt you." His voice was low and sincere, his unblinking eyes bore into me. I fidgeted for a moment.

"Can't you come here?"