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Hand resting on the pommel of her sword, the dwarrowdame strode down one of Erebor’s many halls. This one, unlike some of the others, was mercifully uncrowded, and she was running late.
“Damn it, Asgre…” She muttered to herself. “I knew I didn’t have the time to chat, but did I listen? No! Now I have to explain myself to the Queen, again.”
Golden curls bounced lightly on her uniform-clad back. The royal blue of Durin’s House made an interesting contrast to her pale skin, washing it out slightly.
Turning a corner, she narrowly missed colliding with a burly dwarrow. Speeding right past him, she came to a reluctant halt as he called after her.
“‘scuse me—Miss Asgre, what are ye in sech a hurry fer?”
Raising her eyes up to the heavens, she exhaled heavily. “Mahal give me strength,” she breathed. Turning around, she forced a thin smile. “I’m supposed to escort the Queen to one of the council meetings today, and I’m running a bit late, so if you’ll excuse me…” She tried to insinuate that she didn’t want to talk, but the dwarrow paid her no mind.
Not that this surprised her in the least. Dwalin was not perceptive of the hints she dropped in her words when they talked; or perhaps he just ignored them. She was never sure.
Waving a hand, Dwalin chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ah, Thorin’ll probably come get her himself, Miss. No need to worry yer pretty self over it,” he said knowingly.
Asgre tried to ignore the compliment.
“Perhaps, but I really don’t want to be late if that is not the case, Master Dwalin. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Asgre edged farther down the hallway, trying to make her escape. She’d already fielded one courting request today and she didn’t want to make it two.
Some dames would flaunt the number of dwarrows that chased after them; proof that they were desirable and could have their pick. But Asgre, even though she could easily be counted among the number of women who knew their worth, didn’t.
The last thing she wanted was a husband…somebody always needing her attentions. She enjoyed her freedom, and no, the thought of loving someone that deeply didn’t scare her. Not in the least bit.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t managed to pound that through Dwalin’s thick skull yet. (Although she had contemplated doing it physically). Nor had she ever done that to the other dwarrows who pursued her.
“What would ye say bout doin’ some weapons practice with me sometime? Jes for fun o’course, I know ye ‘ppreciate a good weapon, Kurdel.”
There were those butterflies or crickets or something in her stomach. They stirred her blood and brought it to her cheeks. It was absolutely ridiculous that such a little word should have such an effect on her.
Heart of hearts, really. It was nothing. Just a nickname that he refused to drop despite her insistence. Nothing more.
And she didn’t enjoy at all. Honest.
She dropped the polite façade, giving Dwalin a hard look. To his credit, he didn’t flinch, just stood there like a stone statue. Or perhaps he was used to her attitude towards him now.
“Dwalin,” she ground out, “I have places to be and a job to do.”
“Ah know, ah jes wanted te know if ye wanted to. Do ye?” She could see the hopefulness peeking hesitantly through his weather-worn features.
“Two words, Dwalin. Fuck. Off.”
With that, Asgre fled down the hallway, resorting to a full out sprint so she wouldn’t be any later than she already was.
She could already imagine the teasing smile on the Queen’s face when she showed up late and breathless. The worst part was that she could never convince the Queen that she didn’t like Dwalin the least bit.
She would always laugh and tell her: “Then why do you stop to make excuses to him? If it was any other dwarrow, you wouldn’t give them a second of your time and keep walking.”
And Asgre would suddenly find herself mumbling pitiful excuses while the Queen gave her a knowing look.
~~~
Dwalin watched the dame flee from his presence, her hair resembling wisps of gold flying in the wind. The thought brought a slight smile to his face. That woman resembled gold in a way. Beautiful and enthralling, but dangerous if handled the wrong way. And damn if she didn’t put a spell on him. His brother certainly said so.
Dwalin was willing to bet his axes that her hair was softer than elven silks too. But more durable; every sensible dwarf knew that elvish things were made for looks, not usage.
Even though she was long gone now, Asgre’s image still lingered in Dwalin’s mind as he wandered down the hall towards his destination—the throne room.
“Mahal, what a woman…” He muttered to himself, still smiling. “She’s got more fire’n Smaug himself.”
No other dame he’d ever met had a vocabulary to match his. It was refreshing, having her cuss him out with the most colourful words he’d ever heard. It stirred his blood and brought it to the threshold of boiling. But never over. Not yet.
His feet drew him nearer to the colossal doors that marked the entrance to the throne room, and Dwalin struggled to push away the lingering feeling of euphoria that gripped him. He’d be damned if he let Thorin tease him one more time about that woman.
“Payback,” Thorin had called it when he’d first called him out on it. “For everything you teased me over when I was courting Estel.”
Scowling, Dwalin had suddenly been reminded of something his Amad had told him whenever he’d roughhoused too hard with Balin as a youth.
What goes around will come around, Dwalin. Be careful how you treat others, gultalut, for someday you may reverse roles.
Now he was regretting having teased Thorin so mercilessly. Although, Dwalin had never imagined finding a woman who made him feel the way he did. Not once he’d devoted his life to the battlefield and his king. There had never been time once that choice had been made.
Reaching the heavy metallic doors, Dwalin turned left, pushing on them to force them open before him. Inside, Thorin had already taken his place at the large table placed in the center of the room. Balin and a few other Dwarrows Dwalin vaguely recognized were seated in the chairs, talking amongst themselves in quiet voices.
“Dwalin, did you pass by Estel on your way here?” Thorin asked as soon as he spotted Dwalin. The king rose from his chair and strode over to his longtime friend.
“Nay, Thorin. Ah passed by her guard though. The lass.” Dwalin said, bracing himself for the teasing that was sure to come.
Thorin failed to disappoint.
A sparkle entered his eyes and Dwalin held back a sigh as the all-too-familiar knowing look settled itself on Thorin’s features.
“You made her late, didn’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question. “I’m sure that made her grow fonder of you.”
“Thorin…” Dwalin growled, shooting him a look as he clenched his fists.
“Some advice, my friend. Don’t let her dictate your behavior. Take control of the situation. Show her who wears the trousers.”
“We both do,” Dwalin deadpanned, too annoyed to laugh. “She’s a guard, a dress would jes slow her down. Besides, she’s not tha’ type o’lass. Ye’d be an idiotic te try tha’ with her.”
Thorin sighed as he saw the expressionless mask Dwalin had put on. “You know what I mean, Dwalin… It was only an expression about showing her who is the dwarrow.”
“Yeah, ah know, Thorin. Now, tha’ wife o’yours is here.” Dwalin jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he heard the door slide open. He hoped it actually was Estel.
Based on the way Thorin’s face lit up, (he looked like a damn firefly, Dwalin thought sourly), his guess had been correct. Instantly, he was abandoned as Thorin hurried to greet Estel.
Dwalin stood off to the side, rolling his eyes in disgust over Thorin and Estel’s mushy words. At one time, he would have been snickering at how the usually headstrong Thorin had devolved into flowery language and bending to the whims of his wife.
Unfortunately, Thorin had ruined that for him with his teasing. Vaguely, Dwalin wondered how many other simple pleasures would be ripped from him in the name of “what goes around, comes around.”
Then Asgre caught his eye. She had straightened out her uniform and her hair was no longer cascading messily down her back, tamed by a simple braid down her spine.
He was struck by how beautiful she looked. How captivating every inch of her figure was.
For instance, her eyes were a shade of green Dwalin had never seen before. Bright and joyful one minute, and dark, flashing pools the next. He’d never seen much of the former, as the latter was always directed at him.
Then there was that full bosom of hers, but that was not the only thing Dwalin kept his eye on. There were other bits of her that tempted his fancy. The lips that she would bite when she was impatient or nervous, only increasing their pink plumpness.
Suddenly the room seemed too warm, and Dwalin shifted, rolling his shoulders, and trying to think of anything other than Asgre.
Zabdûnau Kurduê. Lady of my Heart.
~~~~
“So…” Dwalin drew out the word, desperate to break the awkward silence they had been sitting in for Mahal only knew how long, glancing over at Asgre. She was leaning against the wall beside the door. Per usual, they had both been sent out into the hallway to prevent any interruptions.
The first and only time they’d been inside the chamber together, they’d interrupted the meeting with their arguing. It had quickly been decided that if they were together, they had to be outside where their voices were muffled. (Besides, the unresolved sexual tension between them was getting on everyone’s nerves.)
“So what?” Asgre asked, her gaze bored. “You know it is better if we don’t converse, and I’m not really in the mood.”
“When are ye ever?”
“Do not test me, Master Dwalin.” Asgre refused to look at him, keeping her gaze focused on the wall opposite. All of a sudden, frustration slapped Dwalin across the face.
“Ah jes don’t understand why ye won’t even give me a chance?” Dwalin huffed, glaring over at the blonde. “Ye won’t…” He sighed, cutting himself off. “Why do ah even bother arguin’ with ye? Everyone knows ye can’t win an argument with a woman…”
Dwalin turned his gaze away, staring down at the ground.
Asgre turned her head, gnawing on her bottom lip. She didn’t like how this dwarrow made her feel. It went against everything she’d ever known in her life.
For as long as Asgre could remember, she’d never wanted a husband, lover, any of that. She was content on her own. But he, Dwalin, changed all that. He made her heart skip a beat inside her chest and flustered her like no other.
He brought a heat to her core that she had never known. But it beckoned to her, calling for release. For it was no lie that he was nice to look at. Or listen to, or perhaps even to touch—nevermind, that was a door she’d never been tempted to open till now.
The mystery that lay behind it, the sensations, the emotions, everything, was tantalizing. Yet, untouchable.
So she fought back in the only way she knew how—rejection, snubbing, whatever it took to get him to give up and leave her alone and stop conjuring up those feelings within her.
But he didn’t; and his persistence only endeared him to her. And now here she was, feeling sorry for the brute.
“Dwalin,” she began softly, hyper-aware that this was the first time she’d addressed him so informally.
His head snapped up, his dark eyes locking with hers. Unbridled shock flickered across his face for an instant before he regained control. Then he noticed her eyes; bright green and gentle, a far cry from the dark, flashing gaze she usually fixed on him.
The door swung open, blocking their view of each other as they stood on opposite sides.
“Good, you didn’t rip each other’s heads off,” Balin chuckled as he walked out ahead of Thorin and Estel. “I thought you were both unusually quiet.”
“Brother…” Dwalin groaned.
“I must speak with your brother for a moment, Balin.” Thorin’s voice interrupted Dwalin as he came striding over, leaving Estel with Asgre. “My apologies for interrupting.”
Thorin did not look sorry at all.
Balin glanced between them both, a queer look in his eye. Then he smiled and nodded. “Of course, don’t let me stand in your way.” He walked away, whistling.
“Okay, Dwalin—”
“Thorin, ah don’t want te talk bout Asgre. Not here.” Dwalin hissed, chancing a look over Thorin’s shoulder at the blonde-haired dame talking with the Queen.
“Of course not. I just wanted to tell you to watch and learn.” Thorin winked before he turned and headed towards the pair of dames.
Dwalin felt like he was missing something as he stared at Thorin’s retreating back. Then he remembered Thorin’s earlier advice.
“Mahal, he’s gonna get his ass wupped…” He muttered to himself, unable to help the smug smile that was creeping across his face. “This’ll be a show.”
~~~~
“Survive?” Asgre asked Estel, her mouth quirked upwards as Estel rolled her eyes.
“Barely. I really do wonder how Thorin can stand those council sessions. I never knew he was so patient when I first met him,” she sighed, and Asgre laughed.
“Aye, one wouldn’t guess it, looking at him.”
“So, did you talk with Dwalin? Things were so quiet, I thought you must have been.”
Now it was Asgre’s turn to sigh. She’d hoped this subject wouldn’t come up. But it was inevitable with Estel. It made her wonder if there was something wrong in Estel’s love life for the woman to be meddling in hers.
“Not really. There isn’t anything to talk about.”
“Sure there is! You share the same—” Estel was interrupted by Thorin’s hands on her shoulders.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation with Lady Asgre, Amrâlimê, but I need to have some words with her.” He murmured, leaning to press a kiss to his wife’s cheek.
Asgre was curious now. What did the King have to speak with her about? She had done an exemplary job—unless… Horror gripped her. She had been late today. That was probably it. He would give her a warning, or worst-case scenario, remove her from the position.
She couldn’t afford that. She couldn’t go back to her family and put up with their insistence on marrying her off.
“My lord?” Asgre kept a firm grip on her voice, refusing to let it waver.
“It’s just a small matter,” he shrugged, moving to stand beside Estel and wrapping an arm about her waist. “I think there could be some improvements made to how you guard Estel. For instance, you make it painfully obvious that you are there beside her. I think secrecy would be better.”
Asgre couldn’t believe her ears. Was he serious? “What?”
Thorin continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “Instead of staying right at Estel’s side, you should be several paces back. Then you could have a wider range of vision and the advantage of surprise.”
Asgre fought against the urge to laugh aloud and proceeded to fail spectacularly. She bent double, gasping for breath as Thorin began to look nervous.
Estel chuckled, dropping her face into a hand. “Oh, Thorin…” She giggled.
“Are you serious, my lord?” Asgre chuckled, and he nodded hesitantly. “With all due respect, your majesty, that is the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard.”
“What do you mean? It’s perfectly accept—”
“No it’s not. Anybody passing by in the crowd could stab or grab her and I would never see them coming. Even if I did, chances are, being that far behind her, I wouldn’t be able to get there in time.”
“Of course you would!” Thorin’s hesitance had turned into disgruntlement, and he shot a look over his shoulder. Asgre followed his gaze and saw Dwalin leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest and a smirk on his face.
“Would I? Please, allow me to demonstrate. You stay back a few paces and pretend to be me while Estel walks towards me.”
Asgre took a few steps back, putting some distance between her and Estel before she walked forward again, hands in her pockets. As she approached Estel, she smiled and nodded like any normal citizen would. Then, as Estel passed by her, Asgre whipped her hand out of her pocket, stopping the knife clutched in her hand a moment before it would have hit Estel in the side.
“See?” She tucked the knife back into her sleeve. “You had no idea what was coming, did you?”
Thorin nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But how do you do a better job? You can only protect one side of her.”
“Actually,” Asgre took pride in how Thorin’s shoulders slumped. That would show him not to ask her stupid questions in an attempt to boss her around. Especially when he should know better. “Have you ever paid any attention to me when I’m around your wife?”
“Of course, but…”
“Estel can be a bit distracting, I can understand,” Asgre winked. “But, if you had, you would notice that I am always on Estel’s left, between her and any crowd. Her right side is always to the wall.”
“I can see the sense in that, but what about attackers from behind?”
“I walk backwards.”
Thorin blinked. “Really?”
“No, I was kidding. I just listen for footsteps and look around occasionally. I hang back slightly too.” Asgre grinned, “next time you have a complaint about my guarding techniques, think through your own a bit more.”
~~~~
As Estel set off with Asgre at her side, Dwalin strolled over to Thorin. “Well done. Ye really showed her who calls the shots.” He grinned, and Thorin glared at him.
“Shut up, Dwalin. I don’t want to hear about it.”
“Ah did try te warn ye, but ye warn’t listenin’.” Dwalin continued regardless. “She’s a spitfire. Takes no shit from no one. Trounced ye good.”
Thorin laughed sourly. “I know that now… Mahal, she made me look like a complete idiot. Remind me how you fell for her again?”
“S’what she does best. And none of yer business. Ah’ve got things te do, Thorin.” Dwalin edged away from Thorin, hurrying away him before he could ask any more prying questions.
~~~
Several months later…
Asgre chewed on her lip. How could she have done this to herself? Let her self-control slip and done exactly what she had told herself she would never do? Fallen for a dwarrow who was sure to break her heart.
That’s what his type always did. They were too good to be true. It was impossible that he could be that perfect; that similar to her.
Their interests were practically the same—she’d never found anybody else with the depth of knowledge of weaponry that Dwalin had, who was willing to share with her, a woman with a pretty face. He didn’t try to impress her, any conversations on that topic were those found between two enthusiasts.
He didn’t push her more than necessary when it came to their relationship. He’d been more than patient with her, and that little fact endeared him to Asgre.
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she stood out on one of Erebor’s balconies. Normally, she avoided them like the plague once the sun set. The sky in all its darkness was too big for her. But her need for fresh air to clear her head had won the battle.
“Ye know, this is the last place ah’d expect te find ye.” Dwalin’s voice was soft behind her. “Are ye alright, Kurdel?”
The gentle question had her turning around to look up at the burly dwarrow. “You know, you never explained what you mean by that nickname.”
Dwalin shuffled on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Asgre, lass,” he muttered, making a little smile pull at the corner of her mouth.
“It must mean something special to have you so tongue-tied, hmm?” Asgre teased, propping her chin on her hand as she leaned against the balcony rail.
“Lass,” a pleading edge entered Dwalin’s voice, but Asgre’s smile only grew.
“Come on, you have to tell me now,” she cocked her head, waiting.
Dwalin hesitated for a moment. “Fine. Ah’m not one fer fancy words or nothin,’ though. So don’t get yer hopes up fer a flowery speech. Ye jes caught my eye. Ah thought it was jes a passin’ fancy, but it wouldn’t go away.” Dwalin paused, searching for words. “Then, one day, it jes dawned on me tha’ ye were my One. My heart o’hearts.”
Asgre watched him silently, the smile gone from her face. Dwalin cautiously lifted his eyes to hers; hazel meeting green.
“Ah know tha’ love scares ye. It scares me, Kurdel.” He murmured softly, the gruffness vanishing for a moment. “But it jes feels right with ye, and ah want te see where it goes.” He swallowed hard, Durin’s apple bobbing. “Ah’d like te court ye, Asgre.”
Silence greeted his words. Then Asgre rose, standing straight to look Dwalin in the eye. “You’re right when you say that I’m scared. I’m downright terrified. All my life I’ve never thought about loving someone. It never was an option I considered. And now that it is, I don’t know what to do.” She whispered, brows furrowing.
“Neither do ah. But we can figure it out along the way,” Dwalin said.
A ghost of a smile flashed across Asgre’s face. “I wouldn’t want to try with anyone else.”
Dwalin stared at her in disbelief for a second before striding forward to take her in his arms. He didn’t dare kiss her yet, for fear of scaring her away.
Holding her close, he looked down at her, a smile lighting up his face. “Ah must be dreamin’. Ah never thought ah’d convince ye…” He beamed, making Asgre laugh.
“Then it must be a good dream.” Her eyes flickered to his lips. Dwalin registered the change in her focus. All of a sudden, he was hyper-aware of the press of her body on his.
“Would ye—”
“Azrul d’astû mahamrul duê.” Asgre whispered breathlessly, making Dwalin pause.
“Are ye sure ‘bout this?” He asked seriously, locking eyes with her. “Ah don’t want ye te regret it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything, amrâlimê.” She hummed, reaching up to kiss him.
And with that, his doubts were erased as he focused on returning the kiss; his mind muddled. Then, pulling away, he muttered, “igjijê,” jerking his head towards the corridor.
~~~
As the door to his chambers closed behind him and Asgre, the doubts resurfaced. “Asgre, I jes want te make sure tha’ yer sure.” He asked again, and she nodded.
“I’m sure, Dwalin.” She repeated as her fingers nimbly undid the buttons of his shirt. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but as she glanced up at his face, a shy smile bloomed on hers.
Heat began to build within Dwalin as her fingers brushed lightly across his bare skin, shirt slowly falling open, and he found his hands sliding up her hips. Carefully, he slid them beneath her tunic. He wasn’t quite sure if this was acceptable, and hesitance slowed his actions. Nobody could blame him; as much as he hated to admit it (him being so old already), this was the closest he’d ever been to a woman. The farthest he’d ever gone, and he was about to go even farther.
She jerked away from him suddenly with a gasp. “Dear Mahal, your hands are like ice!” She giggled, eyes sparkling up at him. “What have you been doing?”
Even though Dwalin could tell the question was in jest, he answered anyways, grinning back at her. “Wandering out in the cold looking for ye.”
“I suppose I’ll have to warm those hands of yours up, then…”
“Ah wouldn’t object,” Dwalin murmured as Asgre moved closer. “But ain’t those supposed te be my lines?”
“Someone has been reading too many romance novels I think,” Asgre laughed, her hands undoing the last button with painful slowness. Then she guided the fabric off his broad shoulders, fingers lightly tracing the outlines of muscles and the upraised scars scattered haphazardly across his skin.
“Someday,” she whispered, “will you tell me the stories behind your scars?”
“Someday,” Dwalin echoed, biting back a hum of pleasure as she moved to his chest.
Gently, she traced the outline of his pectorals. Then she stopped, peering closer at his chest. “What is that on your chest?” She asked, looking up at him questioningly. “There is an outline of sorts, but it isn’t a scar. Is it?”
Dwalin chuckled. “That, Kurdel, is a tattoo.”
Her mouth dropped open, and she looked closer. “Another tattoo? There? What is it of?”
“It’s a ram’s head. See the outline o’ the horns there?” Dwalin turned to the crackling fireplace, driving away the shadows that fell upon his chest. Using a thick finger, he outlined the horns of the ram.
“What is the significance of it? Is it because you are as hard-headed as a ram?” Asgre smiled.
Dwalin grinned back, “Perhaps. But that is a story fer another day, lass. Ah do believe we have more important things te do.”
Suddenly, her fingers returned to his skin, her featherlight touch sending chills down his spine. “Oh,” Asgre murmured, a teasing edge entering her voice, “your chill seems to be more serious than I had originally thought…”
“Enough with all yer banter, lass,” Dwalin groaned, grabbing her around the waist to lift her up in the air. “The bed’s this way…”
Striding into his bedchambers, the fireplace there already lit from earlier in the day, he set her gently down on the rumpled furs that topped his bed. “Ah apologize fer the mess, ah’m not accustomed te makin’ my bed.” He muttered sheepishly, but Asgre only laughed.
It was quickly becoming his favourite sound to hear; her amusement.
“I don’t mind a bit, Dwalin. Besides, I’m sure we’ll mess it up even more.” She gave him a coy look, hands fluttering down his sides to his hips.
“Mahal, woman,” Dwalin breathed. His blood ran hot, and he could feel his trousers growing smaller and tighter with each passing second. His fingers itched to tug Asgre’s tunic off, satisfying his curiosity of what lay beneath.
This was the point of no return. Once he crossed this threshold, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from continuing even farther.
Looking down at Asgre as she sat cross-legged on his bed, her gaze burning with the same desire that was scorching his every nerve, he found that his decision had already been made.
Dwalin leaned down to kiss her waiting lips, slowly forcing her backwards until she lay on her back, golden hair splayed around her head like a halo. Straddling her, Dwalin began pulling her tunic upwards, carefully revealing more and more of her trembling flesh until there was nothing left to separate his body from hers.
~~~~
Sunlight spilled across the bed, carelessly framing the figures intertwined beneath the blankets. Clothes were piled haphazardly on the floor near the bed. Or at least that would have been the scene shown if there had been a window to let the light in.
The smaller figure stretched, cuddling closer to the burlier-framed person. Gently, fingertips began to trace random patterns on the furry chest of her companion.
One such pattern began to take the outline of a ram’s head in the center of his chest. A horn here, the nose there.
“Ye must be awake te be fondlin’ me like this.” Dwalin’s sleepy murmur broke through the silence.
Asgre chuckled. “I’m not fondling you in the least bit.”
Dwalin snorted, his arm snaking across her torso to pull her closer to his bare chest. “Ye’re lucky yer so pretty.”
She lifted her head, searching for his lips only to find them already bound to the same quest. “Oh, Dwalin…” She groaned against him.
A loud knock suddenly sounded, and the couple sprang apart.
“Dwalin? Are you feeling alright, brother?”
“Shit.” Dwalin swore, throwing the blankets aside and scrambling wildly to find his clothes. Asgre began to slide out of bed after him, but he waved her back. “No, don’t move. Ah’ll leave with Balin, and then ye can slip out,” he hissed.
She nodded silently. They had come to the agreement last night that anything that happened between them would stay between them. It was nobody else’s business whether or not they happened to be sharing a bed upon occasion.
Occasion being defined as every night, more than likely.
“Brother?” Balin called again as Dwalin pulled his trousers on. Hurriedly fumbling with a button, he stumbled towards the door.
From a distance, Asgre could hear the door open. “Dwalin! Are you alright? It’s almost midmorning!”
“Is it really? Ah must have stayed up a bit later than ah thought.” Dwalin’s rumbling voice carried back to her.
Midmorning? The thought bounced around Asgre’s head for a moment. Wasn’t there something she was supposed to be—
Her heart dropped out of her chest like a stone had been tied to it. Estel had had a meeting to attend with the noblewomen of dwarven politics.
“—we were all wondering where you were…”
“Jes sleepin’ in, Balin.”
“But you never do that! Are you sure you’re alright?”
“M’fine. Now, ye mentioned something about Thorin?”
The voices trailed off as the door slammed closed. Asgre flew out of the bed, gathering up her clothes and hurrying to put them on.
She could only hope that the sharp-eyed Estel wouldn’t notice the creases and rumples in her uniform (a casualty from being thrown on the floor and left there all night).
Once everything was in order and she was sure she wasn’t missing anything, Asgre hurried towards the parlor Estel used for her meetings with the genteel folk. Late, again.
~~~
“So, you finally decided to show up, did you?” Estel’s words were softened with a smile as she emerged from the parlor.
Swallowing hard, Asgre nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Aye, I slept late, m’lady. My sincere apologies, it won’t happen again.”
“Mhm,” Estel hummed, her gaze fixed on Asgre. “Something tells me it will though…”
“What?” Asgre asked hesitantly.
“That braid of yours,” Estel smirked, “Dwalin put it in, I’m assuming? I’m so glad you both finally got everything straight between you.”
“My…” Asgre’s voice trailed off as she remembered Dwalin’s tender touch; his thick fingers surprisingly nimble as they plaited her hair. “Oh, yeah. That.” She rubbed the back of her neck.
“Everything go well last night? I know it may be a bit embarrassing, but I know a few tips to help make things a bit easier. And I can show you where a few books are…”
Asgre stared at Estel in disbelief. How was it possible that she knew? Had she walked by in the night and, well, heard?
“How do you know what Dwalin and I did last night?” She asked quietly, and Estel laid a hand on her shoulder.
“First off, you never sleep late or show up late like this. Second, this is what you wore yesterday, and third, Dwalin did the exact same thing.” She winked, “it isn’t hard to put the pieces together after that.”
“So much for keeping it a secret…” Asgre grumbled to herself as Estel began to walk.
“But I am very happy for you both. It is not enjoyable to watch you two dance around each other like a pair of goats in season.”
An image of Dwalin’s tattoo flashed into Asgre’s head and she couldn’t hold back a smile at the thought of him. Already, she wondered when she would see him again. If tonight would be the same as the last.
Only time would tell, she knew. One thing was for certain. Their story together was just beginning; the road they were about to go down still stretching far off into the horizon.