#asgre

“What is this about Asgre?” A deep voice called from the sitting room where my husband sat, relaxing from a long day in the courts of Erebor.

His tall, broad figure appeared in the doorway as he leaned against the frame. Dark brown hair fell gently across his shoulders, framing aquiline features.

“It’s nothing, Thorin...” I sighed, tearing my gaze away from him.

Thorin walked further into the room, brow furrowed. “Someone is trying to court her?” He inquired, and I shrugged.

“I don’t know, this dwarrow keeps asking me to set him up with her, which makes me think that she’s already turned him away.” I replied, to which Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Does Dwalin know?”

I shrugged again. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Thorin let out a chuckle. “I should bring the subject up to him again. I doubt Asgre is going to stay unclaimed for long. From what I’ve heard, she’s quite an eye-catcher.”

“You don’t think so?” I gave my husband a sharp look. He grinned back, walking over to stand behind my chair.

“I’m a taken Dwarrow, love. Nobody looks more beautiful than you in my eyes.” His hands settled on my shoulders; thumbs digging gently into my spine to alleviate the tension that had gathered there.

I let out a ‘hmph’. “You’d be surprised about Asgre. The last thing in the world she wants to do is get married. But if anyone could change her mind, it would be Dwalin.”

Thorin continued to gently massage my shoulders, and I began to relax under his ministrations. “Enough about Asgre, amrâlimê. I think you’ve spent enough time brooding at this desk—“ I interrupted him with a snort of disbelief.

“Look who’s talking about ‘brooding’. That’s all you do, Thorin,” I muttered.

“No need to be harsh, love.” He murmured good-naturedly, fingers locating a particularly sore point on my shoulders.

I let out a groan, leaning into his hands.

“There?” Thorin hummed, and I nodded my assent. He exerted more pressure for a moment before pausing. I grumbled my displeasure, turning around in my seat to look up into his cerulean gaze.

“Don’t stop yet, keep going.” I pouted, but Thorin shook his head, his mouth turned up in an infuriating smile.

“I have a better idea, mesemê. Why don’t we spar for a bit? It’s been far too long since we last had a little match, don’t you agree? Besides, it’ll loosen up your muscles.” He asked, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

I thought about it for a moment.

The idea was greatly appealing. One of the shared obsessions between Thorin and I was our love of weaponry and the usage of it. Throughout the Quest, we had engaged each other in numerous sparring matches that usually ended up as a stalemate.

And I am by no means insinuating that I was always the victour otherwise.

“Sure,” I smiled at him as I got to my feet, which earned me a beaming grin back.

“It’ll be just like old times then, eh Ezzi?”

“Yeah, because I will pulverize you.”

~~~~

Thorin stood across from me, his tunic flowing loosely around his frame. As I tested the weight of my sword, I took a moment to thank Mahal that Thorin’s tunic had stayed on. Thorin was distracting enough as it was without having to deal with the majesty of his unclothed chest.

“Ready, Estel?” Thorin called, and I nodded.

We began to circle each other, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to deal our first blow.

Thorin kept his gaze locked on my face, a tactic I had become familiar with. If I let my gaze become locked with his, I would quickly become distracted. So I kept my eyes averted from his face, preferring instead to watch his dominant arm.

The strike came almost before I expected it; all I could see was the sudden flexing of Thorin’s bicep as he brought his sword up and out.

Ducking back, I dodged the blow and composed myself to deploy my own attack. I waited for Thorin to draw his arm back before advancing towards him with a series of slashes.

“There’s my girl…” Thorin laughed, eyes alight with concentration as he parried each one of my attacks. “I knew she was hiding in there somewhere.”

“She was never hidden,” I grunted, countering Thorin’s jab and locking his sword with mine. “Only waiting.” I released my sword, the screech of metal against metal ringing in my ears as I executed a swift twirl.

My momentum brought me about to face Thorin again just in time to block his downward slash. Thorin wasn’t fazed by my sudden agility—he had taught me the move himself—and quickly stuck out a foot in an attempt to trip me.

And it very nearly worked as I caught the toe of my boot on his and stumbled, my concentration breaking.

I threw out my hands to break my fall, only to have an arm sudden appear around my waist and haul me up against a heaving chest.

“I forgot how clumsy you are, amrâlimê, my apologies.” Thorin murmured breathlessly, looking down at me with worried eyes.

“You dare call me ‘clumsy’, Thorin Oakenshield?” I asked, and Thorin looked sheepish.

“Halwûna...”

“No, don’t even try to make love to me, Thorin. And for the love of Mahal, let go of me! You are sweatier than a boar!” I muttered, pulling away from Thorin to retrieve my sword.

Gripping it tightly, I turned to face him, swinging my sword in a silent challenge. “Round two?”

Thorin grinned. “Sure, just one moment...” He set his sword aside and proceeded to pull his tunic up and over his head.

Dark hair cascaded into his face, and he raised a hand to brush the strands away, rings clicking against the beads that decorated his braids.

I resisted the urge to stare.

Sort of.

Maybe not at all.

Thorin grinned mischievously at me as he rolled his shoulders. I completely missed the way his muscles rippled attractively beneath his bronze skin. Didn’t even see it. Honest.

I struggled to gather my scattered thoughts, which all somehow seemed to consist of things that sparked a tingling sensation in my abdomen. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?”

Hmm… Maybe I didn’t sound as nonchalant as I would have liked, but I got Thorin’s attention back on the here and now and not what was so obviously going through my brain.

“Whatever are you talking about, Estel?” He smirked, swinging the sword in his hand. “It’s only a bit hot in here.”

Damn right it was.

“I’m talking about you playing dirty, that’s what.” I replied, returning Thorin’s smirk with one of my own as I laid my own sword aside. “Although, I do feel a bit warm myself…”

I proceeded to loosen the laces of my shirt so that my cleavage was more visible. “There, much better.”

Looking back up, I was greeted with the heavy weight of Thorin’s stare. “Now who’s playing dirty?” He complained, voice rough with arousal.

I shrugged. “Nobody. I only evened the playing field, that’s all. Now,” I retrieved my sword, “ready?”

Thorin hesitated, and I cocked my hip as I waited. “If you win, I’ll cancel my meetings tomorrow.” I offered slyly, and Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“That is quite an offer, Estel…” He murmured in a low rumble. “Challenge accepted.”

With that, he advanced, sword flashing in the light of the low-hanging sun. And I was faced with the decision of letting him win and getting to enjoy the next day in bed or maintaining my pride.

Our swords met with a harsh metallic ring that reverberated in my ears. Thorin fought to disarm me, but I pressed back against his efforts, locking eyes with him.

If I could only have a moment—

With a grunt, Thorin yanked the sword out of my hands with a swift flick of his own, leaving me standing there in disbelief.

“I believe I win, Estel.” He panted; broad, sweat-soaked chest heaving.

“Through foul play,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

My words elicited a chuckle from Thorin as he sauntered up to me. “I recall you said the playing field was leveled once you tempted me with your curves, mesem.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss me.

But the moment his lips brushed mine I pushed him away, gagging.

“Oh, gross, you taste like sweat!”

Thorin just laughed.

Like it? Love it? Reblog it!

Tags: