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middleearthpixie · 14 days

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Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Three

A/N: I apologize that it's taken me four months to update this, but between school and trying to figure out just how to work Sophie facing off with her husband, well... it's been a time. But, if you've stuck it out, thanks so much for your patience!

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

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Previous chapters can be found here.

As she neared Erebor’s main gates, Sophie’s heart sped up. The sentry smiled down at her. “Morning, Mrs. Asharm. Off to Dale?”

“I am, yes.”

“Just let me send word to Dwalin. His Majesty has let it be known he does not wish you to be traveling to Dale unaccompanied.”

Her gut twisted sharply and sent a sour taste into her mouth, one she swallowed hard against. “He—he has?”

He nodded. “Aye. He said it’s not safe and that if you must leave, you are to go with Dwalin.”

“Oh, but I’m sure he has far more important things to do than to keep watch over me.”

“Be that as it may, Mrs. Asharm, I have to fetch him. His Majesty was very clear in his instructions.”

Impatience seared her insides, but she tamped them down as she peered over her shoulder. No sign of Thorin yet. “Very well. But, please hurry. I’d planned on doing a bit of Yule shopping for His Majesty and I want him to be surprised.”

“It won’t take but a minute or two.” He smiled as he started past her. “I’ll be back as soon as I find him.”

“If you insist.”

He didn't reply, but made his way down the corridor toward the Great Hall and as soon as he rounded the corner, she turned and made haste to slip through the door and out into the wintry air.

Dale was busier than normal, as the Yule holiday was only a week out and more than once, Thorin found himself being knocked off to the side by an impatient man or woman, who then offered up an automatic, “I beg your pardon.”

He paid little heed to those he passed as he hurried along the walkways toward Stone Street. He wanted to find Jora as well as Sten. He had a score to settle with both of them.

A hint of snow hung in the air once more, the breeze crisp and cold as it stung his cheeks. He ignored it at he neared Lucy’s. From there, he walked to the end of the street, and turned toward the alley Jora had taken them down. His heart beat faster as he drew near the door with the peeling black paint. Asharm was not taking him by surprise this time, so Thorin carefully drew the Orcrist and moved closer to the building itself, close enough that he felt the cold of the stone through his leather and fur overcoat.

At the door with the peeling paint, he paused, drew a deep breath, then grabbed hold of the handle, although he didn’t expect it to actually be unlocked.

But to his surprise, the door wasn't locked and instead swung open with only a soft whine of somewhat rusted hinges, which immediately put him on his guard. He carefully stepped over the splintering threshold, into the dingy main room. The air felt stale and cold, the room giving off an absolutely abandoned feeling.

Still, the hair along the back of Thorin’s neck prickled and stood up, which made him even more aware of his surroundings. He held the Orcrist at the ready, carefully moving along the room’s perimeter toward the kitchen.

It was empty—no dishes in the drainer, not even a drop of water in the sink basin. There was no sign of life at all anywhere in the flat. If it weren’t for the fact that he still sported a small lump just above his temple and the healing cut above his eye, he’d swear he’d imagined what happened the previous night.

“Wherever Asharm is,” Thorin muttered, “he’s not here.”

“Thorin?”

He jumped, jerking the blade clear as he spun about to see Dwalin in the doorway. “Are you trying to make my heart stop?”

“Sorry,” Dwalin pushed the door wider and stepped over the doorsill. “Is Mrs. Asharm with you?”

“No.” Thorin shook his head as he slid the Orcrist back into its scabbard. “She’s still in Erebor.”

“No, she isn’t.”

“What?” He looked up to meet Dwalin’s worried expression. “Of course she is. Where else would she be? I left clear instructions with Lon that she was not to leave Erebor unless she was accompanied by you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She wanted to confront Asharm and I told her we do so together. But, instead, I decided to keep her safe and in Erebor.”

“So, you lied to her.”

“Do not look at me that way. I would have to be mad to let her come with me, to let her get anywhere near Asharm, and if that means telling a harmless lie, I’ve no qualms about doing so.”

“She’s not in Erebor, Thorin. Lon did as you told him and came to get me and when we got back to the front gates, there was no sigh of Mrs. Asharm.”

“Did you check her apartments?”

“Thorin, she left. She was no where to be found.”

“Did you look—”

“She isn’t there.”

A sour taste flooded his mouth as his heart splashed into his stomach. Had she done to him what he’d done to her and set out to find Asharm on her own?

His initial reaction was anger, but then fear replaced it. Was that why Asharm’s flat was vacant? Had Sophie already found him, and had he done something to her?

“So, where are they?”

Thorin moved to the single window along the south wall. There the alleyway opened to a wider road whose name he did not know, and beyond it, was the Long Lake and then Esgaroth. “Take a guess,” he replied softly, squinting through the snowflakes sifting this way and that at the new structures on the bulkheads and docks that made up Esgaroth’s foundation.

“I hope you will take no offense, Thorin,” Dwalin growled in a way that made Thorin fairly certain he would absolutely take full offense at what he was about to say, “but I thought she had more sense than this.”

“We don't know that she confronted him,” Thorin replied softly.

“She snuck out of Erebor after already planning on confronting him with you, Thorin. Only a fool would think she did not take it into her head to do it alone.”

He continued to stare at Esgaroth as if he’d somehow be able to see where she was and that way know she wasn't in too much danger.

But that was foolish. Of course she was in danger. And he had no idea where to begin searching for her. Esgaroth wasn’t exactly a big city, such as Erebor was, but it was big enough that searching for someone could be a nightmare. And that it was still under construction meant it was also a bit of a dangerous nightmare.

However, all was not lost because he knew where to begin after all. “We need to pay Bard a visit. I think he might have an idea of where we can look for both Asharm and Sophie.”

“And when we find her?”

“Don’t you worry about that.”

Snow fell to create a near white-out as they hurried back toward the center of Dale and the Provincial House. Snow covered the streets, the walkways, and roofs and showed no signs of stopping as it settled in Thorin’s hair and beard and on his shoulders as well. He shook it off as they mounted the steps to the Provincial House and he rapped firmly on the door.

It opened with a squeak and he found himself eye to eye with Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter, who narrowed her dark eyes at him. “What do you want?”

He smiled, quite used to her blatant hostility toward him. He had the feeling she would never forgive him for what happened when he and his Company unleashed Smaug upon Esgaroth, no matter how much time passed or how much restoration or reparation he offered. “Is your father home?”

She nodded, tugging the door wider. “Come in.”

He and Dwalin thumped into the man hallway, stamping snow from their boots and brushing it from their coats as Sigrid called, “Da! King Thorin is here.”

A chair creaked, boots thudded dully across the floor and Bard came around the corner from where his study was and smiled. “Thorin, I was wondering when you would arrive. And then I was beginning to think perhaps you weren’t and that left me at a bit of a loss.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Mrs. Asharm is in my study and I was running out of ways to stall her.”

Thorin glanced at Dwalin and then, without a word, shoved past Bard to march into the master’s study, where Sophie whipped about from the front window to stare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same, Sophie. I thought we were to meet at the front gates,” he replied, his calm tone belying the irritation that now bubbled in his gut. Never mind that he planned to do the same thing—to go after Asharm without waiting for her—he knew she’d have gotten herself into serious trouble, had Bard not been of a mind to stall her.

“I just came to do some shopping.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He shook his head. “It insults both our intelligence. You knew you were to wait for me or for Dwalin—”

“And you were supposed to wait for me,” her eyes swirled with pewter anger as she looked from him to Dwalin and back, “and yet, you did no such thing, either, did you?”

“If you think I was about to let you get anywhere near Asharm, you are mad.”

“Why? I know him, remember. You were running off to confront him without knowing a single thing about him.”

“Sophie, tell me, how would you have defended yourself when he attacked, because if you think he wasn’t going to, you—”

“I would have been just fine.” She reached into her satchel and withdrew one of the knives from the Great Hall. “I am not entirely stupid, you know.”

He looked down at the knife in question and it was all he could do to hold back his laughter. “You would not have stood a chance, you know. Not with that.”

“I bested him with a skillet, remember.”

“And for this, you would have to be up against him for that blade to be effective.”

She stared at him. “I could still use it, if need be.”

“If need be?” Dwalin growled. “Are ye serious, lass?”

“That’s enough,” Thorin said, holding up a hand in Dwalin’s direction. Then, he turned back to Sophie. “And why would think you would even have a chance to use it?”

“Because I—that is, I mean…” Her shoulders slumped and she sighed. “I’m tired of being afraid, Thorin. And I do not want Heather to always be looking over her shoulder. And you were going to go without me, so you have no right to be angry with me, you know.”

He sighed softly. “I do not want you anywhere near him at all, so yes, I was going to go without you and I’ll not apologize for that. I want him out of our lives and I want him out for good and I care not what I have to do to make that happen.”

“Do you wish me to take her back to Erebor?” Dwalin asked.

“No,” Thorin said softly, shaking his head, “I don’t.”

“Thorin, ye aren’t thinking—”

“Thorin,” Bard broke in, “it’s madness to even consider it.”

“Thorin,” Sophie’s voice was low and steady, “let me do this.”

He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it as a dull headache took root behind his eyes. “Sophie, it is too dangerous.”

“I lived with him for years,” she replied without hesitation. “And I lived to tell the tales. I want to talk to him. Perhaps he will be reasonable.”

“And think you he will?”

“I don't know for certain. But it’s possible. Let me speak with him and if he refuses to be reasonable, he is all yours.”

“All yours?” Bard looked from him to Sophie and back. “Thorin, you aren’t thinking of doing anything rash?”

“Bard, you should probably step aside now,” Thorin told him, “for I cannot say what I will do, but know this, he will have it coming regardless.”

“You cannot simply kill the man.”

“I won’t, unless provoked. But, I absolutely expect to be provoked.”

Bard sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. “I had the feeling you were going to say that.”

“He is no man, but a worm,” Thorin told him, ignoring the look Sophie shot him as he added, “He raised his hand to Sophie, to Heather, with full intent to do harm. Killing him would be too good for him.”

Bard looked over at Sophie. “Is this true?”

A hint of color came to her cheeks as she nodded. “It is, yes. He was—is a cruel man and what’s more? He enjoys being such.”

Bard let out another sigh with that. “I cannot condone it, Thorin. You know this.”

Thorin nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“But, if I neither see nor hear it, there is nothing I might do about preventing it, either.”

“Good.” Thorin replied softly. “Because there is nothing you could do to prevent it at all.”

Dwalin folded his arms. “So, where do ye think ye’ll find him?”

Sophie cleared her throat. “I know where he’ll be. But,” she looked directly at Thorin, whose gut twisted with apprehension as she went on, “I’m going alone. You can follow after, but he must think I’m alone.”

“Sophie—“

“I’m not asking you, Thorin. I’m telling you.”

Continuing to debate it would be pointless. He’d come to know her well enough to know that. And despite the uneasy feeling he had at the thought of her meeting Asharm by herself, he nonetheless let out a slow breath and nodded. “Very well. But we will be right behind you.”

She didn't respond at first, but then, it was her turn to nod. “As you wish.”

“I don't like it, though, Sophie.”

“I know. I don’t like it, either.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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