The Warrior and The King: The Short Stories

8. Scars

"How did you get this?"

Thorin traced the edges of the strange scar on her side with his fingers, the star-like pattern had puzzled him since the first time he saw it. It had to be from some edged weapon, but it also looked like a burn. Kaylea shifted to look at him, she reached to touch his shoulder.

"Will you tell me about yours?" She asked.

Thorin took a deep breath, stroking her side thoughtfully. "There is a lot of pain in the story." He lay back, bending his elbow to prop his head on his hand, surveying her naked body in the firelight, his feet tucked under the pillows by her head. He loved to look at her in this light, the way it softened her curves. She was so like a cat, lithe and beautiful and dangerous. His warrior woman. "There is another question I want to ask," he said. "You treated my wounds with your medicines and they left not a mark, why do you have scars?"

Kaylea rolled onto her side resting her head on her hand, mirroring him, her golden hair falling forward over her breasts. "I could heal them if I wanted to," she said. "I keep the scars to remember the lessons." She ran her thumb over the place where the lance had pierced his side, her eyes traveling over his body. He had gained some weight since he had been King of Erebor, but his muscles were still well defined. These were some of her favorite moments with Thorin, after their initial passion was spent, the intimacy between them made her feel as if everything was right in the world. She was quiet for a moment, trying to decide how to tell the story about her injury in a way he could understand.

"In a country close to mine are creatures called the Hive," she smiled at Thorin's puzzled face. "The only way I can describe them is to say they look like giant insects, many legs, armored bodies, they have powerful stings and jaws."

"Like the spiders of Mirkwood," Thorin made a face at the memory. That was something he would never forget.

"Larger than those, and much faster, but yes," Kaylea replied. "I had been told never to fight one close, hand to hand. But one cannot always choose the field of battle, and when I did face one it was a fight for my life. It feels like the thing is coming at you from all sides, legs, jaws, tail. But I got inside and dealt a killing strike, and that was when it screamed. I had never heard one make noise, they are always completely silent. That sound...," her voice trailed off for a moment, then she shook her head. "It is the most amazing cacophony of sound, deafeningly loud, echoing in your head like every conceivable emotion at once." She looked at Thorin with a wry smile. "I froze and it stung me. Their stinger has four blades and is coated with a caustic slime that burns on contact, it can penetrate almost any armor. Even a tiny dose of their venom can kill. You do not ever want to be stung by a Hive soldier."

Thorin's face was grave. "You were badly hurt."

Kaylea shrugged. "Yes, I almost died, but help was close by. I learned my lesson: never freeze. I keep the scar to remind me."

Thorin shook his head, he could not believe how casually she could talk about nearly dying, and a burn like that must have been incredibly painful. She spoke as if it was something that happened to her every day, and maybe it did. He ran his fingers down her leg. "I am glad you survived to return to Middle Earth," he said, smiling. "I hate to imagine my life if I had never met you."

Kaylea chuckled. She nodded toward his shoulder, where he had an elaborate tattoo to cover his old wound. The flesh had healed with a crease in the muscle, but the ink made it almost unnoticeable unless the light was right. "Your turn," she said.

Thorin rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. It had been many years, but the events of that day were burned into his mind in such detail he remembered it as if it was yesterday.

"It was at the battle of Azanulbizar. I am sure you have heard the story, how my grandfather Thror led an army to reclaim the kingdom of Moira and a great battle was fought there between the Seven Armies of the Dwarves and the orc host of Moria." Thorin was silent for a moment, then he went on. "The orc chieftain Azog came forth from the gates of Moria and slew my grandfather with a single stroke, I jumped to avenge him. The battle was hard fought, and the orc dealt me a blow with his mace that split my shield and nearly broke my arm, giving me this wound. I picked up a piece of oak to defend myself, and fought the rest of the day with it." Thorin opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. "It was surprisingly useful; I could use it as a club as well as a shield."

"Oakenshield," Kaylea said, smiling. "I had not heard this part of the story, I always wondered why you were called that. And the orc?"

"I dealt him what I thought was a mortal blow, until I saw him again at the Battle of the Five Armies." Thorin looked at her, his eyes full of sadness. "I lost both my father and my grandfather on that day," he said. "Every time someone uses that name I remember, I do not need the scar to remind me, that is why I covered it up."

Kaylea moved around to lay beside him, sliding her arm across his chest. "I am sorry to bring up a painful memory," she said, hugging him close. Thorin put his arm around her shoulders, kissed her on the forehead.

"It is only fair. A story for a story," he replied. "Now, about those three scars on your arm..."

Kaylea laughed, moving to sit on top of him. "One story at a time, my king."

Thorin smiled up at her. "Yes, let's make some more pleasant memories." He reached behind her head to bring her mouth down to his, his other arm pulling her against him. He found himself thinking he would be perfectly happy to just spend the rest of his life in bed with this woman, but unfortunately life was not that simple.