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The Laketown house was filled with laughter and the pounding of little feet as the Bargeman’s two daughters ran across the wooden beams, some of which were rotting. Thorin watched as they laughed, calling out the Sell-Sword’s name as she spun about, arms outstretched. Even with the blindfold on she could easily catch them, she was simply playing along with the young ones.
“Thorin!” Balin’s voice cut through the Dwarf King’s thoughts. “What are we going to do? We cannot take the Lonely Mountain without proper weapons.” His voice was an urgent whisper. Thorin nodded slowly, still looking at the game. Balin sighed, following his king’s gaze. The Sell-Sword was whistling a tune as she stepped lightly over the old floorboards, advancing on the younger daughter. The girl giggled as the sell-sword hesitated, giving the little one time to duck under her arms and dash away. He heard Bofur laugh and the sell-sword turned towards the sound, sticking her tongue out. They had met her at the beginning of their quest, just after the nasty business with the trolls. Gandalf told them that her father had been a Ranger and that she would be a good addition to their company. Balin had been mistrusting of her at first, but the girl had proven herself to be loyal. When the Elf King had offered her amnesty she had chosen to stay in the dungeons with the rest of the company. She was a fine swordsman and a decent bowman, but this was no excuse for the amount of time Thorin spent gazing at her. Balin sighed. “Thorin, we have to talk.” The Dwarf King reluctantly pulled his blue eyes away, focusing his attention on his oldest and closest friend. Balin gritted his teeth; as important as getting weapons was, it was time to address the real problem. “Thorin, you are distracted.” The King blinked.
“I am not! My resolve in taking back our home is just as strong as it was when we left the Shire.”
“That is not what I said. None of us believe your determination has faded, it is just…” he glanced towards the Sell-Sword just as the elder daughter darted away, tripping the girl in the process. The other dwarves burst out laughing as the Sell-Sword struggled to her feet. Thorin was chuckling as well. Balin pointed at him. “It’s that!” he said, too loudly. Dori gave him an odd look as the white-bearded dwarf dropped his voice. “You laugh at her, you joke with her, you act twenty years younger whenever she’s speaking with you.” Thorin fixed him with a steely glare.
“You’re the one who says I take everything far too seriously. She is good company, is all.” The Dwarf King said defensively. Balin sighed: he was not making his point clear.
“Yes, yes, but it’s more than that.” He insisted, shifting in his seat. “You heed her counsel first, you walk with her at every chance you get, and you always pick her share your watch. I notice that you quiet whenever she joins our song, and I see the glances you steal when you think she’s not looking…” Besides them, the Sell-Sword caught the little one, Tilda, and began to tickle her. The girl laughed in delight and the other dwarves joined in, with the elder brother shushing them. The Sell-Sword pushed up her blindfold to tell him off and caught Thorin’s gaze for a moment. The Dwarf King turned away quickly, earning a pointed look from Balin.
“I do not deny your claims, Balin, you are… right. About everything.” He admitted quietly. Balin raised a white eyebrow: Thorin rarely admitted to anything. Perhaps this was the girl’s influence? “I have become fixated on her, she’s drawn my attention away from our quest… I cannot afford any more distractions. She… she will remain in Laketown while we finish what we’ve started…” The Sell-Sword balanced Tilda on her knee, braiding her hair as she told one of her ranging stories. The house quieted as dwarves and children alike listened intently. “It will be good for her to remain among her people…” Thorin finished, dropping his gaze. Balin shook his head.
“I fear that wouldn’t help. The only way we stop worrying about those we love is by keeping them close.” He said. Thorin’s head shot up as he scanned the room, but everyone was too engrossed in the Sell-Sword’s story to pay them any mind. All the same, Thorin lowered his voice.
“I… I do worry about her often. When she’s out of my sight I fear…” he sighed, “I do not want any harm to come to her. Going to the Lonely Mountain will be dangerous but…” he looked back up at her “I feel calmer when she’s near me, I’m stronger when she’s fighting beside me I… I love her, Balin…” He looked to his friend, waiting for the disapproving look, for the carefully concealed anger, but Balin only smiled knowingly.
“She is a fine warrior with a kind soul, and a beauty as well. You’d be a fool if you didn’t love her.” Balin said with a nod. Thorin’s eyes widened.
“You… you approve?”
“Aye, she will make a fine Queen. You should tell her.” He said with a smile. Thorin mirrored his expression, stealing another look at the Sell-Sword. She caught his eye once more and gave him a wink, causing Thorin to look away in embarrassment. Balin laughed, earning him a stern shushing from the Bargeman’s son. Thorin smiled as he sat back, relief and happiness replacing his usual smile.
“I will. When this is all over, I will tell her. I swear it.”