A Treasure Beyond Compare (ThorinxOCxOC)

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The Hobbit belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, WB, MGM. This is a fanfiction, a non-commercial derivative work. I only own Adelaide. 

A gentle breeze fluttered the curtains and I looked out the window with a sudden longing. Aelfric had condemned me to a week of bed rest for my foot. Any time I tried to hop out of the room, I was summarily escorted back and given a stern lecture.

Since I was a guest, I held my tongue. The elves treated me like a precocious child, ready to make mischief once their backs were turned. I simply wished for a visit to the library to tackle the travel-between-worlds issue. Apparently, I asked for too much.

Bilbo visited me each day bursting with stories about the elven city that filled me with envy and a strong case of wanderlust. I pushed into a sitting position and using one of the bedposts for balance stood.

"What are you doing?" A familiar deep voice called across the room.

Busted.

I peered around the bedpost and met Thorin's sparkling blue gaze. "I just wanted to get some fresh air."

What was he doing here? The company had been in Rivendell for three days now and Thorin never visited me once. Not that I expected it. The fact he was here at all surprised me.

In favor of the warmer weather, Thorin had abandoned his surcoat and heavy padded tunic, for a loose blue cotton shirt with a v neck that showed the barest hint of a well-toned chest.

"The healer is annoyed with you." He rumbled coming over to help me. "As amusing as I find it, the elf is correct about one thing."

I arched a brow. "And that is?"

His large hands encircled my waist. "You should be resting your leg. Not causing yourself further injury."

I put a hand on his chest to shove him away. "You are not going to manhandle me. I simply wanted to sit out on the balcony which I can accomplish myself." I stared at my fingers, so pale against his bronze chest and swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. "Let go of me, please."

Thorin was being considerate again. I didn't know what to do when he was considerate. He was easier to deal with when he was angry. Then I could be indignant right back. If I snapped at him when he was trying to help me, I'd be the asshole.

We stood there gazing at each other uncertainly. Neither of us spoke. Thorin held on to me. I leaned against him when I should pull away, regardless if I jolted my bad ankle.

The moment, whatever it was, held me captive, unable to move. I took a shaky breath to steady myself against the surge of unfamiliar emotion. "Why are you here?" I whispered.

Thorin readjusted his grip on me, sliding one hand up my back to brace me so I didn't tip backwards. "I came to see how you fared. In truth, I have a question to ask of you."

Curiosity superseded my annoyance. I tilted my head in the direction of the balcony. "Fine. First, help me outside. We can talk there."

Thorin helped me into a chair before plunking down in the one across from me. My belly squirmed nervously as I wondered what he'd say. If he asked me to leave the company, I don't know what I would do. Remain in Rivendell? Return to the Shire? Go somewhere else. Gondor, Rohan, the possibilities were numerous but not endless.

Twitching my skirts into place, I waited for Thorin to speak. Minas Tirith possessed a large archive. If I found nothing in Rivendell's library, I might find something there. Or if I was daring enough, go to Lorien and beg Galadriel for help.

Face pinched, he stared at my bandaged hand. "When we were on the plain battling the wargs and orcs. Do you remember how your hand became injured?"

The bizarre question threw me for a loop. Of all the things to ask me. I did not anticipate him asking after my health!