"I cannot be yours alone."
The words aren't shouted, or snarled, or said with anger or sadness. Those, all or any, Nori could have dealt with. He cannot deal with them being said quietly, while he's wrapped up in Thorin's arms, curled together in the warmth of Thorin's forge. It feels like there's a trickle of ice down his spine, a sharp knife tickling his heart.
Thorin's arms tighten around him, not letting him wiggle away even though he hasn't moved a muscle. "You knew that when you accepted this."
Nori feels Thorin's press of lips against his scalp, next to the bead that's always hiding in his hair.
"You knew that even if we remained forever in the Ered Luin that I could never be just dohyarâlizu." Thorin's voice remains steady and even, and Nori wishes he would shout, as he would at anyone else who'd earned his ire. And Nori knows he's done that, knows he's done something Thorin will hate. "Here, I am even less my own, able to give all of myself to one other, to do what I wish."
There's a quiet sigh, and Thorin unwraps himself from Nori, reaching for the clothing they'd discarded over the course of the night. Not saying anything more, and leaving Nori to dress himself as Thorin climbs - more awkwardly than Nori the night before - into the rafters to fetch the key to the door, and the key to the window. Nearly falling in the process, and Nori winces, though he's kept copies of the keys elsewhere.
Thorin doesn't look at Nori as he unlocks the door, and leaves, though he at least closes - and from the click, locks - the door behind him. Picking the lock on the window's shutter shouldn't be too difficult, but Nori doesn't go for the window just yet. He closes his eyes, and leans against the wall instead, contemplating how quickly he could leave Erebor, and just what that might do.
It would be an easier decision to make if Thorin had shouted. Or if Thorin had sounded disappointed. Or anything other than flat, emotionless. As if he were locking everything down, and that's supposed to be Dis or Balin doing that sort of thing. Dori, since the battle that had stolen Ori from them.
Nori opens his eyes again, reaching for the basket and the empty bottle inside of it, only to find the basket is empty. He frowns, looking under the bench, and then on top of it. He meticulously searches the entire forge before he gives into the sinking feeling that Thorin had taken it with him.
It makes him want to run, to be far from where anything can be done to him for last night. Where he doesn't have to face Thorin, or anyone else, about it. He knows if he does that, though, he can never come back, and that makes him worry it will break Dori. He cannot break his brother, not when there's no one left to pick up the pieces.
Groaning, Nori thumps his head against the wall a moment before climbing into the rafters, and making his way to the window he'd come in last night. He at least has to leave the palace complex, and he'd probably do best not coming back here for a while. Maybe a month or two will give Thorin room enough to calm down.
ekhùled = (the) bottle
dohyarâlizu = your smith
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.