The elleth from under the mountain

Heart to heart

Ontario's P.O.V

It was peaceful when I woke. No arguing dwarves, no fighting Orcs and no bounty hunters were lining up to put my head on a silver platter.

Although there was a consistent banging that could be heard every few seconds. Looking out the window below me, a very large man stood outside chopping wood. I blinked away the last remnants of sleep.

It had to be Beorn, the owner of this house.

It occurred to me that it may be a good time to make his acquaintance and explain that we took refuge in his dwellings, before he came inside and found his house overflowing with dwarves.

Trying to slip out of Thórin's grip without waking him, should have been a walk though a garden. But his grip around my waist was vice tight.

I tried to pry open his hand to get some leverage, but it was like trying to move a Boulder. It would have been a sight easier to try and get Lukaine to open his mouth after he took a bite out of Radagasts prized roses.

I wriggled and squirmed for a good few minutes before I was finally able to lift his arm a few inches.

It took all of my strength to hold it up high enough for me to slide out of his grip.

By the time I had made it onto the floor, my arms were burning, my face was covered in sweat and I was a panting mess.

That was a lot harder than it should have been.

After a few moments to compose myself I quickly changed into some fresh clothes, running my hand through my braids to undo them I decided to leave my curly hair down for once. The cool metal of Thórin's bead resting on the crook of my neck. I blushed as I looked down at it.

I froze as Thórin turned over, murmuring something in his sleep. His face screwed up in annoyance. Even when he was asleep he never truly rested.

Not wanting to risk waking him, and not trusting the state of some of the stairs on the stairwell I slid down the bannister. Landing silently at the bottom.

Tiptoeing over the still sleeping dwarves I quietly opened the door, whincing as the locking mechanism clicked loudly.

A low rumble caught my attention. Lukaine who had been dosing peacefully in a stall, looked up at the sound, grumbling as he caught sight of me trying to make my escape.

I held my finger to my lip trying to quieten him, "Stay," I whispered loud enough for him to hear, waiting for him to settle down.

Once I was certain that he wasn't going to out me, I slipped out the door, shutting it behind me.

The large man stood beside a large pile of ringed wood, as he began to chop it into blocks more suitable for the fire. The closer I got to him the more he loomed over my far smaller frame.

He was at least 10 foot tall, a great mane of hair grew from his back. His beard was long but well trimmed. The ground practically shook with each swing of his axe, his broad shoulders rippling with every swing.

All in all he could snap me in half like a twig, no doubt about it.

I swallowed slightly nervous as I walked up the path behind him.