A Ruby's Shine (Thorin Oakenshield X OC)

41. "Your One is Your One"

I blinked back to reality as Oin finished covering her ankle in the same stuff as before. I studied Philomena's sleeping face, wondering what she would think of the unintentional nickname I gave her, one I cannot seem to get out of my head. Since those delirious set of thoughts, I have found myself more drawn to watching Philomena. Though I have done my best to make sure she doesn't realise it. So many small actions and movements she makes both infuriate and intrigue me.

Like earlier today, she closed her eyes for but a moment before opening them as we hiked up the small mountains. In that time, her eyes were dazed and zoned out, like she herself wasn't really there, yet she continued to manually walk. I didn't know what to make of that, but the moment she did look like that, Fairfin was on high alert, watching everything intently.

The relationship between her and Fairfin is a rather intriguing one as well.

I found myself staring at Philomena's roughly braided hair, frowning once more at the jagged cut line of her hair, like other dwarves had earlier today. I am aware other cultures run differently and Philomena doesn't know the significance of that to us, we dwarves tend to keep our culture private. I still didn't like seeing her long hair cut short, and she did cut off a lot of it.

Then my hand started tingling as I remembered helping pull Fairfin out of her hair. I rubbed my fingers, remembering my surprise at the silkiness of her hair. I found that shocking with how tangled and frizzy her tight curls were. I tried so hard to hide how much I wanted to comb my fingers through her hair and help with some of those really awful looking tangles in her long hair, but I resisted.

Among us dwarves touching, braiding, or combing hair is seen as a highly intimate act between two partners. I noticed that Philomena seemed unaware of this, leading me to believe she has spent little time around dwarves. She didn't react at all as I carefully untangled Fairfin from her hair. Up close, I remember looking at the color of each individual strand and being fascinated at the different range of reds and golds thrown into each strand, it reminded me of flames. I rubbed my fingers together unconsciously, remembering the silky hair under my fingers.

I scowled, looking away from Philomena and growling to myself, the others too far away to hear my quiet growl of annoyance. I cannot deny anymore that Philomena is my One, too much recently has driven that fact home.

Mahal could have done no better at forcing that through my thick skull, smacking me over the head with it repeatedly. He must have known I would be too stubborn to accept it.

Still, there are reasons I do not act on it, no matter if she is my One. If I do in fact reclaim Erebor, then I will become King Under The Mountain. The dwarves of Erebor will not accept a foreign woman of no dwarvish blood as their queen. She is not a dwarf. The road to make such a complicated relationship work would be a challenging one, especially with Philomena's lack of knowledge on dwarf customs. We do not even know if her kind, whomever they are, have a unique way of finding love like dwarves.

I will let her walk away, once this journey is done. I will not force her to go through the challenge that it would be to be by my side, as a king so much is expected of me and, if I were to admit to Philomena being my One, that would put her right in spotlight for the seven dwarf kingdoms to judge. I will let her go, I have to.

The very thought had me gritting my teeth and crossing my arms. I turned away from her, walking around the company settling in for the night to a darker corner just across from Philomena. I sat on a blanket raised on the bales of hay, giving me a perfect view of Philomena.

I didn't like the idea of letting her go once this quest is over, but I knew I must. The idea had a part of me protesting strongly against it. I had heard the stories, that even those who do not fall in love with their One's always feel a constant irritating itch, a pull in their direction. There is a reason Mahal chooses our One, they are equally our other half.