I've decided to take a break from the saddening BoFA trailers and focus on the happiness of Thorin and his zâyung, Hana. For a little while, anyway. I finally had to let this chapter alone, and not overwork it like a painting. Thank you to The Dwarrow Scholar for his helpful translation documents.

And if I shed a tear I won't cage it,
I won't fear love.
And if I feel a rage I won't deny it,
I won't fear love.

- Sarah McLachlan

* * * The following is rated M and NSFW. * * *

While he was away in search of game, Hana used to time to make another loaf of bread. She worked a measure of rye flour into a sticky, pliable dough with addition of some clean water and yeast. Hana rolled and pounded it with her hands on her small table, until it reached a bakeable consistency. She carefully placed it into a closed cooker over the fire, and looked around to see what she could tidy up. Her eyes scanned the inside of the tiny hut. Her limited wardrobe hung along the wall to the left of her bed, on a makeshift clothesline. Hana focused in on one of her finer dresses, a blue linen frock that she rarely wore. It was simple, long sleeved, with a rounded neckline. The only one she owned that had not been mended somehow, in the sleeves or hem. That is the finest garment I own, Hana thought. Everything she owned in the world was in her hut. It was a far cry from where she was raised. From where Thorin was raised, at its height the wealthiest kingdom of Middle Earth.

She took a moment to assess her face. Hana was never given to vanity, but like many women, did check her appearance daily. She looked at her reflection in her small mirror, about the size of her palm. The glass was clouded over and the frame cracked. It was the only one she had. She saw herself, face clean, hair a bit ruffled. She brushed her expressive eyebrows upward with her fingers. Under her eyes were faint, puffy circles of fatigue, offset by fine creeping lines of age. Hana took some of the hand salve she used on Thorin and rubbed a glob onto her lips, which were dried and about to crack in the center. Her cheeks had some noticeable color to them. She looked back at the woman in the mirror, critical of what she saw. Hana felt old, as if she had lost any bloom she once had. After a resigned sigh Hana put the mirror back in her box of extracts.

He came back just before nightfall. The sky was almost black, and snow was falling. He returned with a puny goose. Thorin courteously wiped his boots by the front door, as not to track in snow. He then handed it to her, apologetically.

"It is better than none at all, I suppose," he muttered as he hung his cloak up. Hana took it out and assessed the fowl. It was on the skinny side, but it was meat. "This is good, thank you," she encouraged. "I'll make a soup of out it." Hana turned from him and was about to begin to pluck and prepare the bird.

She felt Thorin's hand cup her elbow.

"What is it?" Hana asked as his hand lingered. Thorin said nothing. He just stared at her, eyes locked. Hana held the goose in her right hand; her left was empty as she felt his fingers close around her elbow. The same stubborn locks of hair framed her face, the green in her eyes highlighted by the flames. He looked as if he was preparing to say something profound, but stopped. After an odd moment of silence, he spoke.

"Please do not speak of it. It is hardly worth thanking me for." Thorin sounded frustrated. Hana doubted that was all he wanted to say.

"Well, I'm thankful you made the effort and brought it," Hana said, her tone tentative at first, but upbeat and rising toward the end. She kissed Thorin on his cheek, then on his mouth, slower the second time. He responded somewhat sluggishly. Then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and looked downward sheepishly.

"What else can I do for you?" Thorin asked. She could feel his hot breath on her face.

Hana felt rather silly facing him with the dead goose in her hand, its limp body awkwardly drooping. She sensed her cheeks growing hot and blushed. "Uuuh, nothing really. Why don't you sit by the fire and warm up a bit before supper?"

Thorin shook his head as he stared at her, his gaze unbroken. "No," he answered, as his low, slightly hoarse voice swirled in her eardrums. "I need something to do." His hands had let go of her and ran his right hand into his hair starting at his hairline. Thorin's loaded, drawn out sigh baffled her.

"There's bread over there." Hana indicated with her free hand towards her table. "Would you mind slicing it, please? We'll eat it with this."

Thorin did not speak, but answered her with an obedient nod. Hana was not sure what was wrong, perhaps he was just overly tired. He fetched himself a drink of water and assumed his place at the small table. Presently, she heard the knife begin to slice. Hana sat on the floor, rolled her sleeves up to begin plucking the bird. He watched as Hana used a knife to sever the fowl's head, and as she began dry plucking the large external feathers. She tried to appear unfazed and unaffected as Thorin gaped at her, both eyes firmly fixed. He barely blinked. After he finished slicing their bread, Thorin stayed in the chair, watching the fire and Hana intermittently, preoccupied. She used some hot water to scald off the remaining feathers from the goose, then peeled back the skin and gutted the animal. After about an hour of preparation, Thorin stoked the fire at her request, so she could cook their soup. He then quietly cleaned her knives for her, laying them carefully on the table. They did not exchange many words during that time. She knew he was tired from being outside, but also sensed other feelings brewing, even though she was not sure what they were. Hana walked over past him to check their supper, knowing he was watching her as she bent over to stir it. The wind began to strengthen, walloping the walls of the hut angrily. She put the lid back in place and straightened up, met Thorin's eyes and smiled sardonically. She wiped her hands on both sides of her dress. "It needs another half hour, then we can eat. Sounds like it is getting nasty out there," she said unceremoniously. Gusts drummed clamorously against the rattling door.

The stool scraped the floor as Thorin stood up, his weighted footsteps growing louder as he peered out the window. He folded his massive arms across his chest decisively. Hana turned away from the fire and joined him. She could tell his mind was racing and it was not just the unimpressive goose that consumed his thoughts. Neither could see much as they peered out into the night. He thought about putting some thicker wooden shutters on the exterior of the windows for her. He vowed he would do it for her once the snows melted.

"Wonder if we will get more than snow tonight," Hana said absentmindedly, as the aroma of their soup began to fill the air. She reproached herself minutes later. That was a rather feeble attempt at conversation. Her nerves were beginning to mount.

Hana stepped closer to him and slipped her arm around the back of his waist, then the other arm round the front. She nestled her head against his chest. Thorin returned her gesture and gently encircled her in his heavy arms. He held her pressed tightly against him. "It will be a long night, Hana," he replied faintly, as he inhaled the scent of her hair near his cheek.

After they had their supper, Hana was in desperate need of a good smoke. They both sat, facing each other in front of the hearth. Thorin sat cross-legged in front of Hana, savoring the drags from his pipe, becoming a bit lost in thought. Hana was seated about three feet away, her right side facing the fire, and lit hers up again. They were smoking Rushlight, a variety of weed she had kept since a pre-winter trip to Briarly. She inhaled with prolonged pleasure as she frowned at him, concerned. His face did not bear a cross expression, she had become adept at recognizing that. Something vexed him, however, and she ventured to ask what it was.

"Is something the matter, Thorin?" She asked softly, tantalizingly blowing out smoke to the side. "Not keen on the Rushlight?" she jabbed. "It is not the best, I know." Thorin looked up at her. The Rushlight was a sweeter, not locally grown weed, and they had not smoked it together before.

Something happened inside him when he saw her blow the smoke out. It made him want to lean across the floor and kiss her, hard.

Thorin took a drag from his own pipe and stared at her fixedly. "No…. nothing's wrong. I…I was just reminded of a dream I had not long ago." His deep voice made her ears tingle.

Hana furrowed her brow. "Oh? What kind of a dream? Not an ill one, I hope…." Her frown grew more pronounced and she held her pipe still in her hand as vines of smoke wound lazily out the end. Hana was interested in dreams others had. It helped take her mind off her own, which were growing more disturbing lately.

"It was not an ill dream. Quite a pleasant one, actually." He glanced at the end of his pipe as he clasped it in his hand. "It happened when I was away, travelling to Selfoss, to meet with the other Dwarves. I was asleep one night, outside by the fire. It was a frigid night, much like this one, harshly cold. I dreamt of the future, I was in a small house in the country, a bit larger than the smithy." He paused for a moment and inhaled from his pipe.

Hana watched him attentively, waiting for him to proceed. "Please continue," she asked, as the sweet aroma of pipe weed permeated the air.

He took a deep breath, and then spoke again. "I was standing at a table, working on a newly cooled blade, a small one. Much like the ones you carry." He smiled faintly at her.

"As I worked, I looked across the house, and saw a woman, my wife, seated in a chair, at a smaller table. There were two small jars in front of her, and she was showing our daughter of about five how to use a mortar and a pestle. The woman was simply dressed, in a plain green frock and apron, her dark hair tied back in a loose knot. She was beautiful. The child resembled her, heeding her mother's instruction. The woman was expecting another child, her belly round and heavy, and walked over to a shelf behind them for a bowl of water. She glimpsed up and saw me watching them, and smiled at me. That smile woke me from my deep sleep, because I had seen it before. I knew that smile, and even miles away, it comforted me in that bitter night air better than anything else could have."

Hana had taken her pipe out of her mouth and gripped it in her hand, knees drawn up to her chest. She clumsily dropped it, and gracelessly retrieved it. She felt jittery.

"Who was she, Thorin?" Hana asked, not sure if she was about to cry, shout, or vomit.

Thorin waited, pensively glancing at the fire, smiling to himself as he recollected the memory, and then back at her. A minute or two passed before he replied.

"The woman in that dream, Hana, was you," he said, his eyes locked immovably on hers. Hana turned scarlet. Her mouth opened slightly, more from satisfaction in hearing his words than actual surprise.

The words lingered in the room like the languid smoke from the pipes. Hana felt a shiver run through her body, not induced by the temperature outside. Was he implying what she thought? The wind, which both of them had mostly ignored, suddenly was the only sound in the room besides the crackling fire. Hana could not sit still. She said nothing, stood up, dropped two logs in the fire and walked to the window, her back to Thorin. His eyes had followed her from where she sat, to getting the logs, to where she stood in front of the window. Though the air was freezing outside, it was growing thicker inside. Hana's breath grew shaky as she heard him shift. She did not want him to think she did not return the sentiments, if that was even what he meant. She did not want to embarrass herself. Hana watched out toward the window musingly as Thorin walked up behind her and stopped, about five feet away. "Hana…" he said softly. She waited a moment before she turned and faced him with timid slowness. He noticed her eyes glassy and shining wet with tears. His intense stare froze her where she stood, eyes alight. He almost always had a stern, intense look on his face, almost grave in its seriousness. The same seriousness faced her now, but instead of a hardened glance, it was softened. He was clearly fraught, pleading in his declaration. The torment raging in him was beginning to surface after being submerged all night.

"Did I offend you?" he asked anxiously.

She shook her head as her voice cracked. "No, not at all. It was quite flattering, to be honest." Thorin was revving up to say more, and she felt her palms grow sweaty. The emotion in his voice was brimming over, as if some force inside was hindering his ability to breathe. His very words were wrought with pain.

"I'm not saying this to flatter or toy with you, Hana. I cannot deny what is in my heart. I'm a captive to your power. Your hold on me is like no other. No one, nothing has ever made me feel…what I feel for you." Thorin's usually loud, bellowing voice quivered as he trailed off. Hana wondered if it was true emotion or the cold that caused it, lying to herself out of nerves because her heart was defensive against what she might hear. She fought back tears with everything she had.

"But I'm not…I don't have any power over you…I don't…." Hana sputtered her protest and Thorin swiftly interrupted.

"You do. You don't know how much." The register of his voice went lower and his tone softer. She was immoveable. The fire in his eyes burned through hers.

"I'm no one, Thorin." Hana arched her eyebrows in a combination of incredulity and sorrow. She shook her head. "Truly. I…I am an orphaned peasant. I'm not saying that to invite pity. It's a fact."

"I wouldn't care if you were a wealthy noblewoman. It would not change my feelings for you." He was resolute. Hana's chest visibly rose up and down as her anxious breathing became more obvious.

"Is it still snowing out there?" Thorin asked, almost whispering.

"Yes." She fought her nerves. Stay composed, she thought. Keep it together.

"Hard?"

Her scalp crinkled at the word. She nodded.

"Good."

He took a few intentionally slow, unhesitating steps toward Hana; her back was not up against the window but close. He looked her over, considering her diminutive form, and then gently reached his fingers into the end of her loose plait. His fingertips carefully unbound the end, their eyes fixed on each other as Hana pondered what in blazes he was doing. She suddenly felt smaller than usual. He determinedly, boldly unraveled it until he reached her head, his fingers entwined in her long, loose flowing dark brown locks, and considered her intently. Thorin was rapt at the sight of her. His fingers, heavy, ran from her scalp to the end of her hair, and he held his hand there a few seconds. He let her hair slip between his fingers before touching her left cheek. He observed, closer, the sprinkling of freckles over her nose, the scar above her lip, the fine lines and dark circles under her eyes that she had earned over her trying life. Hana's eyes still glistened. She reached her left hand up and caressed his raised forearm right below his elbow.

"Why did you help me when I was ill? You saved my life. Why did you do it?" Thorin whispered gruffly.

Hana contemplated her hand on his forearm. She waited, then looked back at his face, as tears ran down both cheeks.

'You know why," Hana answered confessedly, with an emphatic shake of her head sideways.

Her glance back at him gave her away. Her feelings had spoken for her, she may as offered him her bloody, beating heart with both hands.

The sounds of the wind and the cracks and hisses of the angry fire filled the tiny hut, until he leaned down and forward, quickly, and pressed his lips to her own. Both of Thorin's hands held Hana's face in place; he held it like as an egg, careful not to touch her too hard. He released her mouth long enough to look Hana squarely in the eye as she bit her lower lip nervously and said, voice trailing off, "My life is yours. My heart is yours. All of me…is yours. I lay it all at your feet." He stroked her left cheek with his fingers, entranced.

Hana's lips played out into a hint of a smile. She cast her eyes down nervously at her feet for second, then wiped her cheek with her sleeve. She exhaled, breath laden with emotion and feelings she had kept inside for what seemed like ages. "I am yours," she replied. Thorin smiled back at her. He kissed her forehead, then her mouth, harder this time, as Hana wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt her feet leave the ground as Thorin picked her up with no effort at all. Hana felt as light as a feather, arms around Thorin's neck, fingers in his hair and lips pressed to his as he carried her to the bed. He lowered her feet lightly onto the floor in front of it, touched his forehead to Hana's and set her lips free long enough to say words she never thought she would hear.

"I love you."

The close proximity to his eyes revealed tears welling. Hana's own welled up again. She was buzzing, ebullient. His words surrounded her heart with blissful warmth. She touched her right hand to his face and he covered it with his. "And I you," she replied.

Their foreheads stayed touching for several moments. The wind outside howled like a cyclone. When they both opened their eyes, Hana mumbled something that been a burden on her heart since the first time Thorin touched her in the woods, after the vagrant had tried to take her life. Her eyes focused off to the side at nothing in particular.

"Thorin….I…I'm scared." Hana hated to admit fear, but this time she could not hold it in. The wind echoed the torrent of feelings between them. Her voice was a bit hoarse as well. Thorin took her hands in his and stared her straight in both eyes.

"Why? You have nothing to fear with me."

Hana wiped her eyes again with her freed right wrist, upset with herself.

"Because…I….I have never done this before," she said, simpering nervously.

Thorin smiled back at her, kindly. "If at any time, you want to stop…say the word. And I will."

She nodded briskly, trying to buck up and shake off her nagging nerves. "Sorry…the bed's small…(she motioned to it clumsily) sorry, it won't be very comfortable to sleep in."

Thorin eyed it over her shoulder casually. "We won't be doing much sleeping in it, Hana. I suspect you will be keeping me awake most of the night," he said, half jokingly. Hana was sure her face turned beet red. The smile, sly this time, crept back onto his face and he managed to get her to smile as well. He nodded. "That's what I want to see," he said benignly.

His fingers carefully untied the small laces in the front of her dress, delicately tugging, unraveling the laces so the neckline fell open. Untied, the front of the dress hung open like unbuttoned trousers. Hana looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, and reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it off quickly, with the swiftness of removing a stuck on bandage. She stood in front of Thorin in her light linen chemise, revealing toned arms, partially hidden under her thick, dark tresses. She gulped as Thorin unfastened his large belt buckle, eyes stuck on hers the entire time. It hit the floor with a weighted thump. He stood there, in his loose tunic and trousers for a minute, savoring the sight of the strikingly beautiful woman in front of him, her chemise clinging to her form like gossamer. Hana's face had turned scarlet again, and she shook like a leaf on a tree.

"Wait..."she said coyly. Thorin glanced at her, puzzled. She turned him around, pushing on his chest to sit him down on the bed. He still had his boots on. "Time to see those foul feet," she said, chuckling, as she pulled each boot off and laid them gingerly beside the bed. He grinned back at her, even revealing some teeth, as Hana beamed back at him, eyeing his huge feet. Thorin removed his ring, dropping it in one of his boots. He crawled backwards onto the bed, until fully on it, his hair splayed across his shoulders. Hana straddled him in her chemise, kissing him, her hair everywhere. She wasted no time pulling his tunic off of him, over his head, and throwing it on the floor with her clothes, soon followed by his trousers, which were trickier to remove. He sat up slightly, so she was still straddling him, her partially bare legs on either side of him, and his hands grasped the bunched up chemise at her hips in eager handfuls. She drew it up above her shoulders, he impulsively flung it off of her. He pressed her as close to him as he could, burying his face in her neck, his lips pressing into and tugging at her skin, teeth grazing her. The scent of lavender on her skin and feeling of her neck against his mouth drove him wild. With one abrupt maneuver he turned Hana on her back, propped up above her body on his legs, torso upwards touching hers. Thorin pulled the covers up around them so they would not catch a chill. "Maybe you'll stop shaking now," he said, voice barely above a whisper, the ends of his lips curling upward. They stopped and beheld at each other, both awestruck. Hana reached up for his undergarments. Her cold fingers peeled them off of him at a painfully slow pace, until Thorin was completely unclothed, and she chucked them on the floor. Their sudden game of deliberate slowness went on, as Thorin reached his cold, thick fingers under the waist of her undergarment, the tips moving over them so they made contact with her quaking flesh. He inched them down her body, stripping them off of her and dropped them beside the end of the bed, unthinkingly.

He took in the sight of her beneath him, her dark hair loose on the pillow, her eyes overflowing rivers of sentiment. Her lips were open slightly. She was, to Thorin, the quintessence of beauty. What he saw beneath him was better than what he imagined under her clothes. Thorin saw lines, scars, freckles, and moles. Flesh. Firm, smooth, buxom flesh. Hana needed no adornment to attract him to her. It was the young mortal woman, clad in her common dress and dirty boots who had shown up on his doorstep that had taken hold of his heart.

He shook his head at her with reverence as his long locks hung over her. "Dôlzekh Menu, Mahal," he said breathlessly, as he looked at the constricting veins in her neck, then into her eyes again.

"What?" Hana asked through broken gasps.

"I thanked Mahal, the creator, for the gift of you," Thorin answered.

Thorin's right hand traveled upwards, fingering her hair. His left reached for her right hand, his own long hair brushing against her shoulders as he spoke. He leaned over her.

"I…I've wanted you like this for so long, Hana." If Hana's eyes were paper, they would be singed through, the way his bored into her.

She touched his face with her free hand, it ran down his beard from his ear to the jawline. She did not know how to answer, except to kiss him, which Thorin took as her response. His mouth was engrossed with hers. Steadily, he let go of her hand and hair as his face moved down her body. The beard and hair brushed against Hana's skin, heightening her excitement. Thorin felt her anticipation rise with her body as his fingers pressed down on her clavicle, down her breasts, her nipples quickly softening under his increasingly heated touch. His hands savored every inch of her. They were both heating up now, underneath the heavy covers, she underneath his solid body. His hands traveled down the sides of her body, down her hips, creeping down her soft thighs, as his mouth gratified her upper form. She was supple. She was ripe for him.

Hana's eyes had been closed since they lost eye level. They opened, alert again, looking at the ceiling when she felt Thorin's hands slide down her knees to her calves, then leisurely up to her thighs again and stop. She tried to focus on the network of craggy wooden beams above them. Then she surveyed down at him. Thorin said nothing as he sat propped on his legs and gently parted her knees. Hana's heart hammered, painfully. It beat so loudly she thought it would shoot out from beneath her rib cage and kill her. She noticed, as she allowed Thorin to open her up, below his muscular torso, his prominent maleness. Then, for a brief time, she wished she had not seen it. Hana felt her fears returning as she saw it, probably the appropriate size for someone of his broadness, but larger than she thought her body could comfortably accommodate. She had felt his length before in previous intimate encounters, pressing against her as they embraced. Hana believed her heart might stop from the pounding. Thorin saw where her eyes had shifted, and immediately distracted her as she felt his fingers draw closer, gradually down her inner thighs. He dared to inch his fingers closer to her opening, and Hana murmured out in nerve wracked staccato. Her limbs quaked underneath him, even under the heavy covers. Hana vowed to put on her bravest face and dispel her nerves; she did not want them marring this experience they had both yearned for.

His index and middle fingers separated her folds and pushed carefully inside of her. Hana suppressed the urge to cry out in pain, scrunching up her face, gasping and closing her eyes, as she felt Thorin's unengaged hand move up her left leg. He moved in a circular motion, tenderly, within her warm crevasse, pushing in deeper. "Breathe, Hana," he said calmly. She found it arduous to breathe with his fingers penetrating her, the pain seemed to numb if she held her breath. She finally let out her held breath with a shrill respire. He touched her as if handling a butterfly's wings. The rounded, intentional motion increasingly loosened the inside. His other hand moved from her left calf to her thigh, which was, as the rest of her body, covered in gooseflesh. Thorin tenaciously loosened her for a few minutes, as every time he delved slightly deeper, he felt Hana's body tense up beneath him, as she winced with discomfort. His fingertips pushed further and further, his fingers fully immersed in her, stroking, pressing, and coiling, until her lower body delivered the desired, overwhelming response. She panted, ready for him. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and she cried out, gasping shrilly. It felt as if he were pulling her entrails out. Every part of her was wide open. Her eyes opened again, as she felt his hair travel up her body, and he caught her mouth with his, hard. His tongue gained entry to her mouth as he lowered himself down. His erect length rubbed between her shaking legs. His mouth ate hers like a wolf eagerly consuming its prey. Hana returned his fervor, forcing her tongue hungrily past his lips, her fingers teasing his ears. Hana knew what effect this would have on him. Upon feeling her fingers toy with his ears, she felt his erection intensify, as the tip met her entrance.

She freed his lips with a startled gasp when she heard what sounded like a hailstorm of millions of little blades pummeling the ceiling and walls. The wind continued to howl. 'What is…(Thorin would not let her off the hook, he took her lips back insistently)…that?"

"It's only ice," he growled into her mouth, dizzy with her. "The door's….(their hissing breath excited each other's faces, her tongue rolled over his as he tried to speak)…bolted."

Her hands crept into his hair, grabbing at it, driving him mad. He answered with thrusts, the first few slow, small. By the fifth, he was fully inside her. His foreplay had helped relax her, somewhat. Hana whimpered again, followed by a louder, guttural shriek and constricted huffs as he pushed himself into her, until buried deep in her warm, moistened folds. She dug her fingernails into his scalp, breathing pained, as he held himself inside. He took her face in his hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked her gruffly, panting. Her open legs were trembling on either side of him.

Hana nodded briskly, her eyes shut fast.

"Do you want me to stop?" His breath was ragged and labored. Hana shook her head. Her voice was high pitched, constricted. "No…(he heard her swallow, and take a few breaths before answering). Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Thorin did as he was told. His pace quickened, but not too fast. He wanted to relish the ecstasy of every thrust. His dense frame braced her, as his hips rocked rhythmically, hers rocking with him. Thorin's arms held Hana's cold legs in place like a vice along either side of him, her cold feet rubbing against the back of his thighs, just below his pulsing, thrusting buttocks. His sheer weight and size held her fast beneath him. The small bed frame thudded against the wall with the force of their bodies. As his pace quickened, Thorin delightfully filled every inch of her, his thick length buried in her. He flooded her body with his; her folds with his seed, pinning her down like a great oak across a rippling brook. Hana's eyes were closed, her face screwed up, as her hands moved from his scalp to his back. Her piercing, breathy moans countered his low ones. Her nails clawed at his back in harried response as he pressed into her relentlessly, frenzied. Deep groans of carnal satisfaction rumbled low from his chest, his face buried in her neck and hair, hot moist breath wet her skin. Hana made out a few unfamiliar words amid the bustle, Hana, zâyunguh, athune, his voice resounding in her ears. He said it louder and louder, repeatedly, as they climaxed, mingled with her screaming of his name. Hana, zâyunguh, athune! After a few minutes had passed, he felt a signaled change in Hana's body. She had let herself go, and fully dissolved in to passion. Hana's voice murmured into his shoulder as his pulsing thrusts into her decelerated. Thorin eased his pace a bit, and picked each of her hands out of his back. Her nails had dug into him. He pinned her wrists down with his fingers, moved over the veins into her palms, and caught them in his massive hands. Their fingers interlocked, and he kissed her with slow, hot lips. Both were trembling. Her eyes opened when their mouths separated. Their hands still clasped together, Thorin tucked his face into her neck, pressing into her flesh, feeling her arteries. Their bodies gradually slackened and then stopped, and his covered Hana's like a blanket as he lay within her. Their feverish vigor had ceased, and gave way to serene stillness. The screams and groans quieted, and the only sound either heard was the quivering exhalation emitting from both mouths above the howling fury of the wind and storm outside. Their chests rose and fell like tides. Hana turned her face to the side, and kissed his brow as he lay on her, breathing, enraptured into her neck. Her left hand reached around and touched the back of his head soothingly. Her right hand stayed interlocked with his left. Neither of them said anything for several minutes, as they listened to the storm rage outside. Then Thorin lifted his head up, and kissed Hana's mouth. He lightly stroked her face. Her eyes were closed, her brows woven together as she tried to process what they had just done.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Hana opened her eyes and faced him.

"Yes, Thorin. I'm fine." Their chests pulsated into each other as they breathed.

They both wiped their tears from each other's faces, as Hana turned on her side, Thorin up behind her on his, spooned. His left arm wrapped around her waist, and she placed hers on top of his. They lay still and serene, and silent. Hana and Thorin could have died happy that night, together in their sublime euphoria. The wind continued to roar; the ice and snow kept falling, and they surrendered to sleep.

Hana woke before Thorin, to the sound of intermittent ice striking the ceiling. It had lessened since its furious rain from hours earlier. Thorin was beside her on his stomach, face turned toward her. She watched him sleep as she basked in pure happiness. Here, he belonged to no on else. He was hers alone. Hana slipped out of bed without a sound. She left Thorin sound asleep, his breathing steady, rattling. The fire had all but died into a weak, lapping flame, so she added a few logs to help it mature. She slipped on her chemise and wrapped herself in her lined cloak, and gingerly walked to where she stored her tea and pipeweed. Hana searched until she found a small green glass jar, about the size of a radish. Inside were a few pinches of ground wild carrot. She dropped a measure into her tea, and made a mental note to drink another before the day was over. The night before was only her first experience with him, but she and Thorin had much to discuss before she put herself at higher risk of conceiving. She had herself to take care of, and that alone proved a daunting task at times. She peered through the window beside the door, and beheld the winter deluge that had raged on through the night. From what she could see, a thick layer of ice covered the layer of snow underneath. It had begun snowing shortly before Thorin had arrived the previous afternoon, and progressed into heavy ice as the night went on. It was impassable. She glowered out at it, reflectively, sipping her tea.

She turned unhurriedly toward the bed when she heard Thorin stir. His back was to where she stood, then he moved onto his opposite side and opened his eyes. He watched her briefly before he mumbled groggily.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked quietly.

Hana picked up her rickety stool and placed it beside the bed to sit on. She brought her tea with her.

"Maybe twenty minutes. Did you sleep well?" The tepid ceramic cup thawed her hands.

Thorin sat up, and leaned his weight on his left arm. His mane of hair hung over his muscular shoulders, tousled. Hana thought it suited him well. How she wanted to run her fingers into it again.

He nodded. "Quite well. Why are you up so early?"

Hana shrugged. She was awakened by the uncomfortable weight of his arm lying across her chest, but was not going to tell him that.

"My feet were cold. And I wanted to see what it was like outside."

"How is it?" Thorin inquired, as he sat upright, his large knees bent up. His sanguinary glance at her heated her up inside.

"Nasty. It will not be easy to navigate through, if at all, today. The wind sounds like it still has some bite to it."

Thorin agreed wordlessly as he glimpsed at Hana. "Are you not freezing? What are you wearing underneath the cloak?" he asked.

'The chemise," she said, nonplussed.

"And under that?"

Half of her mouth turned upward into a knowing smile. "Nothing. I only just made the tea."

He returned the smile. "Well, if we are not going anywhere today, you may as well come back in here with me," he suggested, eyes narrowed a bit. "It's a lot warmer in here."

Hana raised her eyebrows at him slyly and put the empty teacup down. "Excellent notion," she replied. "Besides, it's your turn to be underneath."

Thorin searched beside him in the bed as Hana flung the cloak on the back of her chair, his arms slung over his knees. When she walked over and got in next to him, he eyed her, face serious.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, voice hushed. What he heard the night before and saw on the sheets scared him.

Hana sat next to him with her legs straight out in front of her, hands in the lap of her chemise. She stared vacantly out ahead of her. There was no tactful way around her answer, she was being honest. She frowned.

"At first, yes. But I was expecting it to."

Thorin was watching her as she faced ahead of them both. Her hair fell in an unkempt waterfall down her back. He was captivated. How different she looked then, compared to how he usually saw her, in everyday clothes, in her cloak, boots, and gloves.

"Forgive me for that, I…" his voice was low and he was ashamed. "I would never mean to hurt you, Ha..."

Hana firmly cut him off and took his hand. "Stop. There's nothing to apologize for. I wanted it. "

She smiled contentedly at him, which he reflected immediately.

"Now tell me what you were saying in Khuzdul last night."

Thorin frowned slightly at her, as if he did not understand her meaning. Hana had none of it. Then his whole face softened as he replayed the night before in his head.

"You know…when we were…" She grinned and nestled her head onto his chest, their hands clasped in the center, hair everywhere. They both slumped down under the covers and reveled quietly, blissfully for a few minutes.

Thorin breathed deeply. "It means my love, my queen," he answered placidly, as their fingers twisted together, folding and unfolding playfully.

Hana stopped fidgeting with his fingers and propped her head up on his shoulder so they were looking at each other. They were both silent for a moment. The wind blew mournfully outside. Their eyes were frozen in a mutual gaze.

"I love you," he rasped, rubbing the back of her head. "I will love you…until I draw my final breath. There will never be another."

Hana moved his long hair out of the way of his face, and held her hand to his ear. She smiled faintly as she answered him, her eyes welling again.

"Nor will there be for me." Her voice was shaky. I love you, Thorin. With every fiber of my being, I love you."