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It was a quiet morning after the company rested at Beorn’s. The dwarves and the hobbit had gotten comfortable, fast asleep after filling their stomachs. You had been rather restless throughout the night, sitting up from the bedroll with a sigh. The knowledge that Azog had been following the company closely had worried you, even if you didn’t show it. That antsy feeling made its way through your body like a scratch you couldn’t itch.
Surely it was enough to get you on your feet, tiptoeing quietly through the tangled bodies of the company. You head through the house quietly. You’re in the living room when you hear a quiet mumbling from behind the front door. It was a voice you couldn’t mistake. A certain soft-spoken, polite dwarf you had been drawn to since you were called to Bilbo’s house on that April day. Each dwarf had his own personality, but Ori was something special.
You open the door quietly, taking a peek at Ori, sat under a large tree with a book in his hands. It was fairly amusing how small he looked underneath it. You can’t help but chuckle, and the poor man nearly jumps out of his skin. “Oh! Mahal…” he yelps, a nervous chuckle falls from his lips. You can’t help but notice how he drops his book, a shaky hand placed atop it on the grass, and pushes it by his hip. “Good morning, traveler. Nearly scared the daylights out of me!”
You greet him with a warm smile, approaching him with a skip in your step. The rising sun shines across your face, and the dwarf pauses for a minute to just… look. He catches his composure, hand scratching the back of his head. You settle next to him in the grass, stretching your arms in an effort to urge the cloud of sleep fogging your head.
“Oh, I apologize. How long have you been awake, Ori?” You ask, head tilting gently, “Oh, just about an hour now. You look tired.” Ori replies. “I cannot blame you. I haven’t slept as well as I had hoped to, I must admit.” You had always thought so fondly of the dwarves’ courage, but it was refreshing to know you weren’t the only one having concerns. “I am worried too, Ori. I came out here for a distraction.”
Ori perked up at that, his fingers grasping his book with hesitance. You notice and take the opportunity to tease. “What’s that? Doing some reading?” Ori’s cheeks flush, and he nearly trips over himself to answer you. “Ah- yes, 'tis nothing important-“ “Why are you so flushed? Reading something you shouldn’t?” You coo, your right arm sneaking behind his back in an intimate embrace. He flushes even harder at the proximity of your faces, and it’s enough that he resembles the rich, red apples growing above your heads. You take his distracted moment to reach behind him, snatching the book from his side. Ori yelps, scrambling to take it from you before giving up, a shaky sigh leaving his lips. “‘Between the Shelves’? What is this?” You ask, flipping through the pages. You catch a quote.
“Like the illuminated parchment, my heart holds only your image, yet I dare not turn the page to show you, lest it be scorched by the gaze of another.”
Ori snatches it back with shaking hands, embarrassment emanating off his body. “It is a romance, if you could not guess.” You look over Ori’s face, a small smile finding your lips. It was cute how worried he was, worried that his image was spoiled by reading something more delicate, something that differed from the common representation of a strong, masculine dwarf. But it only did more for how you saw him.
He already was a scribe, you knew. There was always something rose-tinted about well-made and detailed covers of leather, worn pages that smelled strongly of age. Most importantly, the thousands of words they held. He was a very hard worker, his diligent fingers doting a pen and jotting down paragraph after paragraph throughout the journey. His taste in literature only made him seem warm-hearted and caring, something most admirable in regard to the terrors the company faces daily.
You tilt your head, meeting Ori’s downcast gaze. “It does not matter. It is a good read regardless of genre, is it not?” “But I thought…” “I am in no position to judge you, Ori, nor do I have an urge to,” I assure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He reacts slightly to the touch, but he leans into it. He chuckles warmly, a sound that summons butterflies in your stomach. “You do not know how much I appreciate that,” he murmurs, soft and warm. His eyes bore into yours, and suddenly you’re the shy one, looking down at the book in his hand instead. “Would you tell me what it is about?”
Ori starts to flip through the pages as he talks, a rough thumb tracing over the edges. “It is about a librarian who wants to become a writer himself. And he meets someone who had settled in his village from faraway lands, and had begun to visit the library often. They would make wonderful conversation about literature, about stories and writers. And they share a lot with each other, which is not common for the both of them. The adventurer inspired the librarian to write a romance about them, but he was not able to finish it. Just about as he was finishing his last chapters, the librarian found out that the person loved another. This book is supposed to be his work.”
”Wow, that sounds like a very interesting story.” “It truly is. It is a wonderful story, but it always makes me sad. If I must be frank, it makes me hopeless.” “About what, Ori?” You ask, concern flickering over your face. “Love, dear adventurer. I am not sure that someone as meek as I will find my One easily.” “Ori, you are a wonderful man. I am sure there is someone for you.”
You sit in a comfortable silence for a second before you reach for the book again. You flip through the pages, finding a quote underlined.
“Their voice is a quiet chant in this cathedral, a melody that makes my quill tremble, not nearly from the cold of the morning.”
You look up from the book, taking in a trembling hand inching near yours. Your pinky reaches out to his, and he takes the opportunity to take your hand.
His thumb brushes over the top of your hand, and he takes a shaky breath at the feel of your soft skin. After a moment, he whispers to you. “I am glad you found me this morning, dear traveler.” Both of you shared a heated gaze before it was ruined by a loud thud from inside the house. You both jump inches from the ground, pausing with hearts placed in your throats. You both begin to laugh, and suddenly you forget about the orcs. You take the chance to stand, turning to look down at the dwarf. “I reckon I better head back in.” Ori nods, grinning widely. It’s rather contagious, and your smile grows further as you turn, sharing a fleeting glance before stepping back into Beorn’s house. Ori leans back against the tree, a dazed chuckle leaving his lips.