Rue (A Thorin Oakenshield/Hobbit Fanfiction)

2

Fifteen Years Later

"Talia! Talia, wake up!" Her mother banged on the wooden door, causing the young lass to cease her snoring and snort herself awake. Shivering, she realized that the candles around her had dimmed and the water ran cold. "Thorin's already here, for Durin's sake, Talia!"

Hoisting herself out of the bath, she wrapped herself in a towel, barely covering herself adequately, and proceeded to drain the water. Then, before her mother's knocking drilled a permanent hole into her skull, she answered the bathroom door. Theresa stood, hand on her hip.

"You fell asleep, didn't you?"

Thorin, now a handsome young dwarf himself, grinned at her. He was dressed in his formal attire, standing in the center of the living room patiently with his hands clasped. Craning her head over her mother's shoulder, one hand still holding the towel, she found the source of the voice, waving and winking at him cheekily.

"You know me so well. Be out in a minute."

Talia shut the door again to the bathroom and dropped the towel, examining the new gown her mother had been eager to fashion for the annual ball. Its deep green fabric reflected the color of her eyes, and she knew that the long sleeves and long skirt would keep her warm. She was grateful that it was not cut in the ostentatious style of the dwarfish dress; rather, it resembled an Elvish make. She slid on the cool fabric, thanking Mahal for her mother's firm grasp on their Elvish heritage. Though it was unclear what union in their lineage gave them their thick, silky hair and extraordinary hearing, Talia was grateful for it everyday; she was convinced that her lack of a beard was the main reason Thorin still deemed her worthy of friendship.

Talia emerged from the bathroom, fastening her dark black cloak over her small frame and tucking her long hair into its hood. Noticing Thorin's dress for the first time, she smirked. "You clean up nice."

Thorin sighed, feigning disappointment. "I only wish I could say the same about yourself."

"OI!"

Talia smacked him with the shoe in her right hand, using her left to fasten the other. As soon as she straightened, she found Thorin already staring at her. "You know I kid— you are always beautiful."

She blushed as she readjusted her hood, hoping he hadn't seen it, though she knew he already had. Thorin offered her his arm for her mother's sake, which she accepted, waving as she left the house.

"Have fun!" Theresa said, watching them go as the door closed.

"Get your stupid arm off of me." Talia shoved Thorin's arm away as soon as the oak door to her home was shut. He laughed loudly at her actions, throwing his head back and exposing his full beard.

"You can't possibly still be mad at me for this morning."

"Yes I bloody can be!"

"Talia, you can't win every duel you drag yourself into. It was only a matter of time before I bested you."

In the fifteen years that had passed, the pair had outgrown wrestling and took to learning how to properly fight, training every day alongside their peers. Their teacher was good, and kept firm to his strict goal of giving the troops of Erebor worthy recruits. Much to Tyzrin's joy, the prince and his companion were at the top of their class, now at the level to duel, and their most worthy adversaries were themselves. Previously, after long hours of training, each day's final spar ended with the pair in a tie, but today, exhaustion had hit Talia differently. Thorin had bested her, for the first time in a long time.

"Just need more training is all." She grumbled, starting the trek to the mountain. Long had she fought for the feeling of victory; defeat was a slap in the face and a thorn in her pride.