Chapter Text
Thorín was standing in front of the huge bay window of his flat on 5th Avenue, where the view was absolutely magnificent. The famous Central Park was right at his feet, the weather was fine today and lots of people were out for a stroll. He could have done the same, but no, it was the weekend and, for once, the agency had not offered him any appointments.
Two whole days that he would devote solely to rest. He was not a loner, he liked to go out, but right now he wanted a bit of peace and quiet. The last few weeks had been exhausting, both physically and mentally. He and his brother had finalised the purchase of a small jeweler’s shop on the verge of bankruptcy and had managed to save all the jobs, which was a good thing.
It had been satisfactory, as it always was, and he spent a few minutes admiring the view before turning to the piano.
He tapped absentmindedly on the keys as he passed, then moved over to the sofa.
Picking up a book from the coffee table, he made himself comfortable and began to read quietly.
How long had it been since he had had an evening to himself?
In fact, he did. He had a lot. Too many, in fact...
Well, except for Fridays and Saturdays, which were often very busy. The head of the agency, Miss Bowman, was demanding and required the same of her employees. But as she was very strict in choosing her clients and the people who worked for her, he never had any problems. Well, yes, he did, but that was not really a big problem in itself. He had a very good reputation. And word of mouth, in these cases, well, it was the best form of advertising. As if he needed that...
oOoOo
No, he did not really need money, he was what was known as an heir.
Thraín, his father, had started at the bottom of the ladder, as a labourer in the mine. But fascinated by the precious stones that he and the others extracted from the rock, and after many years of hard work, he managed to save enough money to open a small jeweler’s shop. His work was quickly appreciated, and since then the Durín family has owned several of them, specialising in the production of unique jewels that are highly prized by high society.
Thorín was very young when his father first took him into the workshop at the back of the shop, and he was impressed by the colour of the molten metal and the transparency of the precious stones, which the lapidaries were carefully cutting. Working the metal until it was as fine as a hair, or taking tools that seemed so small in his hands, to fashion delicate designs had become a passion. And it still was, even if it was always surprising to see that a man of his standing preferred to roll up his sleeves and work with his hands rather than tie a tie.
Music was another of his passions.
It was undoubtedly the proximity of Greenwood that had triggered this love in the young boy. When he was not at the workshop, he attended the concerts that the musicians often played in the open air, and as his favourite instrument was the piano, (1) he would have been happy to join them. In the hope of joining the band, he had put aside his dislike for Thranduil, the conductor who thought he was a king, but as his father disliked "the blonde diva", as he liked to call him, he had never been able to do so...
Fortunately, Thraín had not needed to push his sons to work for the Company. Frerín, his younger brother, was in charge of all the accounting and legal aspects, while he looked after the supply of raw materials and delivery of the jewellery ordered. With customers all over the world, they even had the luxury of buying a small aeroplane.
And because Thorín liked to get away from it all, he had passed his pilot's licence, which made things easier for them.
Surrounded only by men, Dís, the youngest of the three children, had developed a strong-willed character and, as she had very early discovered an undeniable talent for design, she had joined the Company without any problem, leaving the management to her brothers. Design was her thing, the rest, no...
She had always had a gift for finding the shapes and colours of the stones that would make up a piece of jewellery, often under the amazed gaze of Thorín and Frerín. Like her very first creation, an enormous silver and ruby ring. Who could afford to wear such an ostentatious piece of jewellery?
But it was all the rage among high society. And a trend had been set, increasing the popularity of Durín jewellery, which was now a must-have luxury accessory.
Since then, they have not said a word, even if they sometimes look at the end result with a doubtful pout...
Not far from Greenwood, with its thousand-year-old trees, was Dale, a famous medieval town with a magnificent belfry, and in between was Erebor, where he had grown up. It was a pleasant town to live in, and just behind it lay the no less famous "Lonely Mountain" and is mine, renowned for their gems of unparalleled beauty.
The Durín’s wealth, which was already considerable, had increased still further when Thraín had bought it from Azog, his former boss, who found it hard to digest the fact that a ridiculous little man had succeeded in doing what no one had ever dared to do before.
But his son Bolg had incurred so many debts that he had no choice but to give in...
Since then, the two families have had a fierce hatred for each other, fuelled by the patriarch Durín's systematic purchase of everything Azog coveted. Moreover, Thorín was still convinced that it was he who had ordered the murder of his father, who was found drowned in the River Celduin a few years later. The car had been badly damaged, but the police had never been able to prove it...
Having lost their mother at an early age, this mysterious and tragic disappearance had left the three of them orphans, but the ordeal had brought them closer together and they had coped quite well.
Even though he loved his job, Thorín spent a lot of time with Dwalín, his childhood friend, with whom he still did the odd thing. Like the time when, flying over Angmar, a desert region that is steep and dangerous because of the frequent landslides, on board the Company's plane, Dwalín spotted something that struck him as strange.
And as if to confirm his words, after Thorín had landed the plane, a man with enormous bulging blue eyes and hardly any hair or teeth left jumped on them, beating them, and bellowing that they had no right to be here and would not take his "precious" away from him.
Dwalín may have been a force of nature, but he was as gentle as a teddy bear and after easily subduing the poor creature, they tied him up before taking him on board with them. DNA tests were carried out and it turned out that the man, who had been identified as Gollum Smeagol, had gone missing more than twenty years earlier, which explained his state of dementia.
Since then, he had been living in a psychiatric hospital, unable to resume a normal life.
Not far from the family home, a huge manor house that he had left to his brother and sister without any regrets, Thorín had his own flat. It was not very big, but it was empty all the same. He lived alone, but he liked the peace and quiet, so he did not mind, even if he was not a monk...
He had adventures.
But he was getting a bit fed up with going out with beautiful women, tastefully dressed, and well behaved among the beautiful people. It seemed that in this rather closed sphere, they did not know how to talk about anything other than their hairdresser or manicurist. Not to mention the latest fashionable designer, something you absolutely had to have, or you would look like a nerd. (2)
Their company was certainly not unpleasant and for a cocktail party, having one on your arm felt good. Ending the evening with her in bed was not bad either, especially as most of them did not even wait for him to make the first move. He was a good catch and was rather well made of himself.
But the thought of living with one of them gave him the shivers.
He was still young, and the prospect of a routine life did not particularly appeal to him. So one day, tired of spending his evenings in the company of people who only wanted his money, he decided to do something different. So he went back to the manor to tell his brother that he wanted a change of scene.
Frerín laughed before looking at him seriously, gently reminding him that there was no way he was going to do his job as well as his own. Thorín finally gave in with a sigh, so he would remain contactable, although he hoped he would not be needed unless it was an emergency.
After all, the people who worked for them knew their job and he was not the only pilot in the world...
Having done that, he left his flat, but did not sell it. It was a very good investment and who knows, he might want to come back to it one day?
In any case, he had made some very successful investments and had the means to go elsewhere. Full of new energy, he packed his bags and set off on an adventure...
oOoOo
He had then landed on the other side of the country, in New York and more precisely in Manhattan. It did not take him long to find a place to live, having fallen in love almost immediately with a gigantic loft, which he bought for a hefty sum. And what is more, it had a magnificent view of Central Park!
It was while wandering around one evening (in fact he had got lost, but he would never admit it) that he had passed a door. He glanced at it casually, but two steps further, he stopped dead in his tracks, frowning.
He turned around and stopped in front of it, opening his eyes wide in awe and intrigue. No, he had not been dreaming, it was what he thought he saw...
What set it apart from the others was the knocker in the center.
Just as he was about to continue on his way, the door opened and a young woman stepped through.
-Well, I do not think you will have any problem getting hired! She exclaimed with a great smile.
-Engage? He repeated, astonished by such familiarity.
-Come on, sweetheart, do not be shy! You know, Miss Bowman has never eaten anyone, and I am sure she will love you! And who knows, maybe one day we will be working together?
After an appreciative glance, the young woman left, not without giving him a little wink and a superb smile. Driven by curiosity, Thorín let his fingers caress the magnificent, almost translucent stone, which shone as if lit from within, and entered...
oOoOo
Thorín dropped his reading for a few seconds and looked at his watch. It was not very late, but he was hungry and did not feel like cooking. And just as he was about to pick up his phone to order something, it rang. Sighing, he picked up, hoping it was not his brother.
-Mr. Oakenshield, I am delighted to have you! To be honest, I did not really believe it, but...
Thorín winced. He recognised the voice of his "boss".
-I know I promised you I would not use your services today, but right now you are the only one I have got available. I hope you do not mind...
-I do not know... for once I thought I would have Saturday to myself.
-I know... and I am sorry, but this is really a cry for help!
Thorín hoped that the little snigger he could not hold back had escaped his interlocutor...
-This afternoon, I received a call from a young woman who was really very annoyed...
After another sigh, Thorín tilted his head back and waited for the rest. Even though he could pronounce the sentences he was about to hear almost word for word.
She had been invited to a party, but she was alone, and she absolutely had to have a date, otherwise she would be seen as someone who was not very sociable in the eyes of the others...
-She was really embarrassed, and I could not refuse, you understand.
Thorín understood above all that Bowman, even if her agency did not need any more recognition, would never have passed up the opportunity to prove that she could be counted on at any time. And he imagined her sitting behind her glass desk, smiling.
Yes, she had to smile, because she knew perfectly well that none of her employees would have refused...
-And of course, given the urgency of the situation, I made it clear to this young woman that there should be financial compensation...
Well, let us see... In his opinion, it was above all this part of the contract that had made her accept!
And yet, according to him, she did not really need that to make a living. Her agency had built up an excellent reputation among New York society for several years already.
-... of course, you will receive your percentage of the commission, as usual.
-No more? Thorín exclaimed ironically.
He had absolutely no need of this pocket money, as he liked to call it, but here it was purely for the pleasure of enraging Miss Bowman.
That too irritated him a little. Not being able to call her anything other than "Miss Bowman" reminded him a lot of a brothel-keeper in his opinion...
-Just listen...
-You see, this evening...
-Were not you going to go out? Worried his boss.
-Well, to tell you the truth... Thorín began.
No, he had not planned to go out, he just wanted a meal delivered...
-Well, it is agreed. Since I am forcing your hand a little, I will give you an extra 10%, how is that?
10%?? He could not stop laughing.
-Mr. Oakenshield!
Oops! He probably should not have let himself go like that...
-You really are hellish! You are taking advantage of the situation and I am wondering if I did the right thing by hiring you in the first place... She continued in a tone intended to be dramatic.
Thorín smiled, perfectly aware that she was trying to win him over.
-You know as well as I do that you cannot do without my services. I know it, you know it and your clients know it. I am the best! There is no one else like me and that is why you will be going up to say... 20%? (3)
He knew he was exaggerating, that it sounded very condescending of him, but as he had no doubts about her popularity at these parties, he wanted to see how much she needed him. There was a blank, which lasted a few seconds. Then there was a sigh and finally she spoke...
-Well, that is agreed... the evening starts at 8.30 p.m. But before that, you have an appointment at 6.30 p.m. at the New-York Palace Hotel, I suppose you know where it is? So we will be given you an evening dress, as well as the invitation card and the name of the young lady you will be accompanying. I have every confidence in you as to the means of transport you will use, as this must be an exceptional evening.
Thorín twitched when he heard the name of the hotel. It was a palace he had been to several times, to deliver jewellery sets ordered by wealthy clients.
That was going to be a problem. What if an employee recognised him? Or worse still, a customer? Unaware of Thorín's deep reflection on how he should behave if that were to happen, his interlocutor continued to speak.
-It is an evening given in honour of researchers in agronomy. It is a bit like Silicon Valley, but for agriculture. The preservation of the planet's resources is the favourite subject of politicians at the moment, so there will be a lot of good people there, and you are the only one who will not be...
-I beg your pardon? But you know I do not like this kind of demonstration! Thorín protested.
Damn it, he was sure he had been had. He hated dressing up as a penguin! (4)
-I would say a task, next to your date. She is still going to receive the "Excellence" award. What do you think? Bowman continued, undaunted by her employee's repartee.
-What then? Thorín replied, lost in thought.
-Will you accept?
-I do not know... I had really planned to stay at home in peace...
If his "one-night stand" did not have a date and she was going to receive a prize, she was not going to be very engaging, even if judging someone without knowing them was not very nice of him. And spending him time in a lab mixing products, each more nauseating than the last, was not going to help anyone's character either...
-All right, I accept. He finally said in a bored tone (5)
After all, if she was going to receive a prize it was because she was intelligent, so she should have some conversation at least. Hopefully, she would not drown him in the details of the research she had done...
-I knew I could count on you. I am going to leave you now; you have just got time to get ready. Have a good evening, Mr. Oakenshield. And do not forget the flowers!
Thorín did not have time to answer before the beep-beep sounded in his ear. He looked down at his phone, a sneer on his lips. She should have known by now that he was not a man to forget such details. He was not at all ashamed of his name, but it was too well known. That was why he had preferred to call her by the nickname his friends had given him.
And he had always wondered if she did not know who he really was or if she was just pretending.
Was she using the fact that she had a member of a wealthy family as an employee to negotiate more lucrative contracts?
He put the phone down and huffed. He no longer needed to have food delivered, there would certainly be tons of food at the banquet that normally closed this kind of evening.
He looked at his watch. 18h00. Just enough time for a shower before heading off to the hotel. But first, he had to call a florist...
oOoOo
At 6.30pm he was standing in front of the hotel. A porter held the door open for him and he went through, thanking him. He had undoubtedly been spoilt in life, but he had not forgotten good manners.
And he winced as he recognised the man supervising the staff looking after the customers, who was simply Bard, the hotel manager.
Pulling himself together, he smiled slightly when the man said noticed him and approached him.
-Mr. Durín? What a pleasant surprise! I am sorry, but I was not told you were coming! What can I do for you? Do you have any luggage? He asked jovially.
-No... in fact, I have come on behalf of Miss Bowman. The man straightened up, but he quickly regained his professionalism.
-Oh... are you Mr... Oakenshield? He asked in a small voice.
-Yes, and I would like it to stay that way...
-Of course, we will be discreet, I can assure you. Do you have a... party planned?
-Look, you obviously know Miss Bowman, as I do. So I guess there is no need to pretend, is there?
The director hesitated for a moment, then sighed discreetly.
-Of course you can. I suppose a bit of relaxation now and then cannot do anyone any harm.
Thorín nodded slightly without answering.
-Well, if you will follow me, I will take care of you, even though I know perfectly well that you do not need my help. But Miss Bowman is quite...
-Persuasive, isn’t it? Thorín continued in his place.
-Yes, you said the right word. She is pretty persuasive...
oOoOo
To be continued…
oOoOo