A Ruby's Shine (Thorin Oakenshield X OC)

67. Kingsfoil

In the main room, everyone in the company was sitting or standing, some trying to warm up under the offered blankets from Bard, Bilbo currently had two blankets around him and he was shivering pretty badly.

I looked around the room and spotted Thorin, brooding in the corner like a silent shadow, watching everything in the room with his dark blue eyes, a furrow between his eyebrows the only sign of worry or confusion on his face. I don't know which it is, I am still learning to read his expressions. My new boots, with their taller heels which will take me time to get used to, made a dull thunk on the wood, drawing Thorin's attention as his blue eyes turned to me.

Instantly, I watch his eyes go from cold and closed off, to warm, open, and inviting, drawing me to his side. They luckily don't have that touch of warmth that was alluring to me before or I would be done for. I don't know what it was about that look, but I was drawn to Thorin like a moth to the flame. Thorin raised his arm, inviting me to his side. I quickly moved forward and under his arm, the boots making me nearly match his height, as I leaned into the solid warmth of his body, his arm settled around my waist.

I don't get how he can be warm after all we just went through, but I won't question it. I sighed quietly in relief as I laid my head on his shoulder for a moment, relaxing a touch into his embrace, exhaustion tugging at the edge of my mind. His hand on my side moved and wrapped around my own hand, making me realise the leather coverings were still over my hands. I picked them off, the leather practically ripping under my touch as I dropped them onto the table nearby before settling into Thorin's embrace again.

Thorin leaned down a touch to whisper in my ear, "It is very odd to see you in a dress, Ruby, you look very different." He whispered, the heat of his breath sending a tiny shiver down my back that I did my best to control. I looked up at Thorin with a glare.

"Mention the fact that I am wearing a dress again and I will punch you." I said, glaring but not really meaning it, I wouldn't actually punch Thorin. I leaned back into him, sighing quietly as I enjoyed the warmth slowly chasing away the cold.

Luckily Thorin had been standing in the prefect dark brooding corner, because everyone was too busy to notice the fact that I was practically cuddling into Thorin for warmth. Yet, at the same time, just being in Thorin's embrace made me feel like I could bring my guard down and relax, a feeling I am still trying to grasp. I never feel safe, or comfortable, taking my guard down. But now, in Thorin's presence, I feel...

Safe.

What an odd feeling for me to feel. I know I love Thorin, I already faced that hurdle, but I feel now that my love for him is reaching dangerous points. I already don't know what I am going to do with my life once this quest is over. So many conflicting directions, yet I do not want to give up this feeling I have come to know in Thorin's presence. I feel... more alive around him. I don't know how else to describe it.

The burning yet not burning heat of Thorin's hand over my own is another question I still have no answers to. I know it only comes from him, I have not felt this from any of the other dwarves, or from anyone else I have ever met. I really don't know how to place the sensation other than comforting and enjoyable, sort of a subtle way of letting me know that it is Thorin that is holding my hand.

I didn't miss that he was holding my hand under the blanket and out of sight, or the fact that, from the point of view of everyone else in the room, Thorin and I are merely standing close to each other, but not touching. I find it amusing, Thorin's insistence on hiding all these little way he shows me that he cares, probably destroys his image in his mind of a strong dwarven king.

"It may not be the best fit, but it'll keep you warm." Bard said to the others, handing out the last of his worn blankets, a few of the dwarves grumbling out their appreciation. I watched as the little girl, whom I learned is named Tilda, hand poor shivering Bilbo another blanket. The slightly red nosed hobbit looked up at the girl, accepting the blanket.