Thorin Oakenshield Imagine: Healer.

Thorin Imagine: Healer. Part One

Gandalf glanced at Thorin from across the flickering flames of the evening campfire, curious of what was to happen next.

Distress was etched into the lines of the rugged face of the dwarf king, as he sat lost deep within his own thoughts, brooding upon the wizard's request. But suddenly Thorin let his eyebrows draw together as he realised he was being watched, and he casually motioned for Gandalf to follow him from the make-shift camp, to somewhere more private within the surrounding forest. 

Somewhere the other dwarves could not overhear. 

The wizard muttered an underwhelming excuse to the others and apprehensively slinked off into the bushes, preparing himself for the next round of intense questioning.

"How do we know we could trust her?" Thorin whispered, scanning the darkness around them, to make sure they were alone. "We cannot risk letting a stranger into the company, not when the quest is this important."

"I have known her for a very long time, she is an excellent healer. There won't be an issue with her joining us." Gandalf sighed, rummaging around in the loose pocket of his tattered robes for his pipe. "She will be the perfect addition."

"But can we trust her?" The dwarf seethed sharply, annoyed at the wizards flippant attitude to a rather serious situation.

"Thorin, she is an outcast. (Y/N) does not get involved in the petty business of world politics and she keeps herself to herself. It is how it has always been. She can handle weapons too, I've yet to see anyone flourish a dagger quite like it! Even you cannot deny that an extra blade will come in very handy-" Gandalf exhaled a large puff of smoke from his chest and watched as it floated off into the night, taking the shape of an ornate butterfly. "-As will her magic skills. As one of the last remaining mages, (Y/N) will be an invaluable asset."

"If my history serves me correctly, oh wise wizard...mage people were said to be deep in the pockets of the Elves." The dwarf king sounded before lowering his tone to a velvety rumble. "Do you think a company of dwarven warriors would so willingly accept a magic maiden?"

"Those times are past, Thorin Oakenshield, as you well know! We are uncertain what we face...we need her." Gandalf spoke without looking at the stubborn son of Durin, and instead turned on his heel and drifted back towards the warmth of the campfire. Thorin took a slow pace in walking back after the elder, taking the time to think things over in his mind once again. He knew it was wise to have an extra pair of arms, especially since his nephew Fili had been injured yesterday by an orc arrow to his calf. Oin, the closest thing the group had to a healer, had tried his best to fix it with some of the dwindling medical supplies, but the wound was infected and it needed substantial treatment as soon as possible. 

And so, the following morning, the company were to make a detour to pass through a compact and rural village, a few miles off the beaten path. This had all been at Gandalf's insistent requests, saying that he knew of someone who could help to get them all back on their feet. It was at that point in the explanations that Thorin saw an uncomfortable look pass across the old wizards' face, and knew there was more to this healer than he was giving away. 

"Uncle, who is to join us?!" Kili bounced out from behind a tree, having stealthily pursued the pair out of camp. "Who is Gandalf bringing into the company?"

Thorin grunted in surprise, outwardly puffing his chest in annoyance and walked on back to camp with speed. "You should not be listening in on private conversations." 

"Tell me!" Kili pouted, wincing when the king allowed the branches of a particularly thorny bush to bounce back sharply and hit his nephew in the legs. "Uncle, who is joining us?"