This story was really calling for a rewrite. I started it quite a while ago when I wasn't a good writer and I had no sense of planning whatsoever. So I'm going to keep the storyline relatively the same, but I'm switching a few things around and making the actual genuine romance start a lot later. I'm also pondering whether I should change the whole story into all third person POV or just first person. Please help me decide, because I'm quite torn on that aspect.

Thorin Oakenshield sighed as a thumping headache erupted in his forehead for the third time that night. The oak table in his bedroom was absolutely flooded with letters that he wouldn't bother to read and reports from the groups of men he'd sent to different parts of Middle-earth. He hadn't realized that being a King would harbor so much stress and tire. He was worn out, to say the least. With a dreadful pang, it finally clicked that as much as he hated to admit it, it was making him slightly regret taking back Erebor.

The thought made him bolt upright in his seat. "No." His fist collided with the wooden table, shifting a few papers. Thror and Thrain before him had treasured this mountain, and it was his destiny to rule it until the end of his days. The thought of giving up was simply .

"Thorin?" There was a soft thumping on his door. His forehead resting in his hand, Thorin sighed.

"Enter." He answered wearily. The door opened and Balin entered, a concerned look adorning his features.

"You seem to be troubled of late." The elder dwarf expressed, standing in the threshold of Thorin's quarters. "Come, Fili, Kili, Tauriel and Dwalin are about to have a pint. I think it'll do you some good."

Tauriel. The King almost grimaced at the mention of the she-elf. True, she had been nothing but helpful upon her arrival, but he was still not fond of Elves. And he respected Kili and his wishes to be with the Elvish woman, but she had yet to prove trustworthy.

Thorin found himself standing and he nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. I will be there in a moment."

Balin gave a small nod, and he turned to exit the King's quarters. Before he left, he asked, "Have you given any thought about who will be captain of your army?"

He had, but he decided not to voice his decision yet. "No. Now leave me. I will meet you in a few minutes." The tone in his voice was clear, and Balin gave another nod, exiting and closing the door behind him.

Thorin slung his fur cloak over his shoulders, relishing the feeling of it upon his skin again. It seemed to somewhat calm him down slightly, and he cast another look at his table once more as he exited his quarters and walked down the hall towards the main dining room.

Laughter rung out from behind the closed door and it made Thorin's head pound. He was beginning to regret agreeing to this, but he had already brought his hand to rest on the handle. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the strong stench of fresh ale. Despite his misgivings, the smell made his mouth water and he found himself sitting between Fili and Balin at the oaken table.

"Glad to see you've joined us, Thorin." Kili greeted, his arm entwined with Tauriel's. She gave him a soft, respectful nod and he grudgingly allowed himself to admit that her attempt at being sociable was respectable. He found himself returning the greeting to her.

"Aye." He answered, his gruff voice low and quiet. A large mug of ale was placed before him by Balin, who gave him a small smile.

"You've deserved it, my King." He said, and without a second thought Thorin grasped the tankard and downed it swiftly.

Fili chuckled. "By the looks of you, it seems as if you haven't drank for moons."

Thorin merely grunted in response, pushing the mug back to Balin who happily poured him another.

Several ales later, Thorin found his headache easing slightly, much to his surprise. The stress was easing, if only for a little while. He made a mental note to do this more often. Kili was laughing drunkenly to Tauriel, who although was not even slightly inebriated, laughed along with him. Thorin had to admit to himself that he was glad to see Kili so happy. He had not been so since he had parted with his mother. Fili seemed to be the only thing keeping him sane, until Tauriel had been introduced into his life.

With a sigh, Thorin made yet another note that he was still unbetrothed and Erebor needed a queen, whether he liked it or not. He was never going to find a suitable dwarven woman, because of obvious reasons. His only other resort was a human, hobbit or elf. He almost choked at the thought of marrying an elf. It would take some time yet to overcome that hatred.

"Thorin, I think we're done for tonight." Fili said, intruding into the King's thoughts. "We're out of ale, and the breweries are locked up for the night."

Thorin grunted, getting to his feet. "Alright. Get your brother to rest safely," he said, noting Kili's obviously incoherent state. His eyes met Tauriel's and he gave a small nod before turning to return to his quarters.

As soon as the door shut behind him, he groaned as the papers on his table were made ever more apparent to him. He steeled his mind and ignored them as he fell onto his bed, relishing the feeling of laying down once again. He didn't bother to take off his coat before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

x

The next morning was uneventful. Thorin struggled to get together his needed supplies for a week's journey and leave Erebor without being noticed. He notified only Dwalin of his departure, leaving him in charge but sparing the details of why. It was a definite struggle to avoid interrogation by any of his kin and he barely slipped out of the mountain without being found out. He had a horse waiting for him at the entrance, tied up to a stone post. He mounted the pony without delay and set off towards the ruins of Lake-town.

Not a day would pass without guilt clouding his thoughts. He would stand strong in his decisions, but the wailing women and crying children reminded him too much of his own struggle after Smaug had attacked the mountain. He steeled himself and took a deep breath. If the whole journey would be spent reminiscing then it would not do him any good whatsoever.

He rode over the battlefield that had so many memories. He felt as if he could still see the blood of his kin and foes alike spilt all over the grass. The memory was so fresh, he felt a shiver down his spine. He had a feeling that the battle would not be the last to be fought by his armies across the lands.

He found the solitary days of travel merge into one another and he found himself riding endlessly without only a few hours of rest every few days. He seldom felt the exhaustion, surprisingly. And after a three days ride westward, he came to the stone gates of Fanthorpe Hold.

This place, although he had not seen it with his own eyes before, was a place he had never wanted to approach. Fanthorpe was the stronghold of a woman who owned a small army. But that was not the reason for her fame.

Thorin knew her, and he knew her well. She was to be handled with care when spoken to, and Thorin knew he was not a tactful dwarf. But if he were to have her assistance, then he would need to be. She was a woman of remarkable strength and prowess. Just what he needed, although their history was not exactly kindly.

But this was necessary. He steeled himself, took a deep breath and entered the keep.