A/N: My darlings, I know I have been absent for the last few days. But I WENT ON A ADVENTURE! *Bilbo voice* I took a 600 km (one way) all-night bus trip and met up with my dearest RagdollPrincess to watch The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. My verdict: one word. Disappointing. But that's not the point. The point I'm back and all my stories will be updated in the nearest few days: "convince me the winter is over" of course, I know it's your favourite, my duckies ;) Thorin in Hogwarts will have to address the question of Wren's virginity asap :P and just like I promised...

I'm posting the Christmas three-piece morsel. It's sweet, it's silly, and has all the essential elements of this pairing :) Don't forget to floss and brush your teeth, because the sweetness overload in it will give you cavities like no other :P

Written by kkolmakov

Despite being in the cursed Elven palace Thorin Oakenshield woke up in the best of moods. It potentially had something to do with falling asleep holding the small healer in his arms. He opened his eyes and stared at an empty pillow. Did she leave? He rose on his elbows and saw her. She was standing by his basin and was studying her face in a mirror on the wall. She put on her nightdress, but the window behind her illuminated her, and he could clearly see the outline of her slender body through the gauzy fabric.

"Morning, my lady." She turned to him, and a wide smile spread on her face. He on the other hand felt his face drop. Her right cheekbone was bright purple, slightly swollen, the bruise from last night angry red. He felt as if acid spilled on his insides. He had hurt her.

She quickly approached the bed and climbed on the blanket. She sat on her knees, the habit he remembered from seven years ago, and tilted her head. She was still smiling, her eyes attentively surveying his face.

"Morning, my lord." He could not stop looking at her cheekbone, when her warm little hand cupped his face. She made him meet her eyes and brushed her thumb over his lips. "It was not your fault." It was not, but he felt awful. The unusual for him flurry of emotions flooded him, making him uncomfortable from the intensity of guilt, protectiveness, tenderness and anger. She slid closer and pressed her lips to his. He gently cupped the back of her head, momentarily surprised by her directness, and then she stretched on him, and he stopped thinking. He rolled her underneath him, his hands wandered, and she wrapped a leg around his calves.

At some point he lifted his face to look at her, and she smiled blissfully into his eyes. "I am sorry for the bruise," his own voice sounded strange to his ear, and she pushed her fingers into his mane.

"I do not blame you," she rose slightly and pressed her lips to his cheek, "But imagine what the Elves will think!.." She sniggered, and he looked at her in confusion. "They will say that Dwarves habitually beat their wives into obedience." He froze and stared at her. The curved up corners of her lips were twitching in a suppressed smile, and he shook his head. What was he to do with her?

"Dwarves never raise their hand on a female of any race, my lady."

"I know that. I know all about Dwarven traditions and customs," she smiled again and scraped the back of his head. The gesture was alike the one a person would bestow a cat with, but felt surprisingly good. "I had seven years of unquenchable curiosity regarding everything Dwarven."

He chuckled and kissed her again. He remembered not to go too far, but surely there was nothing wrong in getting to know each other a wee bit better. She arched into him and throatily moaned, and he realized he overestimated his reserve. Perhaps, they should go back to talking. He rolled off her, pulling her on top of him, her strange eyes widening. He could not help it. His hand slid on her buttocks, and she gasped. She looked slightly dazed, to his smug pleasure, and then she wiggled on him. That felt equally very good, and very disturbing. Surely, he could reign his arousal that the pressure of her hips on his crotch produced. He was wrong again. But he realized she was not trying to rise some of his parts to life, but finding a more comfortable spot. She did, and sighing contently she propped her chin on her little fists on his chest.

"That is surprisingly easy," her tone was pensive. "I have not shared a bed with a man before. I would expect it to be more... awkward." He hiked his brows in surprise. "Not in terms of placement, I mean, less awkward as in..." Her voice trailed away, furious blush spreading on her cheeks. He kept silent, wanting to see to what verbal trap she would corner herself now. She shifted her eyes and pointedly stared to the side. And just because he found her so delectable, and, honestly speaking, her bashful mumbling so entertaining, he gave her perky little backside a squeeze. Her eyes got twice the size, and he guffawed. She puffed air and pressed her face into his chest. "Are you enjoying embarrassing me?"

"Immensely. So what what was it about sharing a bed with a man?"

"I have never... And we had so little time together. And I feel uncomfortable with men in general." She peeked and hesitantly smiled to him. "I feel very free with you. And you are..." She slightly pushed up on one arm and tentatively stroke his bare chest with another hand, "Pleasant..."

"Pleasant?" He chuckled. "That is something I definitely have not heard before."

She hid her face again and then suddenly rubbed her nose to his hair covered chest. "I have given it a lot of thought through the years."

"What do you mean?"

"Bedding a Dwarf." He choked on his chuckling. "I did not hope you would come. Nothing stopped me from dreaming about it though." Her eyes were mischievous, and he stroked her hair. "I did not expect it to be so… familiar. As if it has been years."

She had an unusual manner of speech. Each word was articulated perfectly, a slight accent that he was not familiar with hardly noticeable, but present, and altogether she sounded like a person for whom Common speech was not the first language. Each of her phrases sounded purposeful , thought through, even when she would stammer and blush.

"Where did you grow up, honourable healer?" She had put her head on her hand splayed on his chest, fingers of the other one drawing mindless patterns on his forearm. He saw one of the tiny feet dangle in the air and felt a prickle of a strange adoration. The sole of her foot was narrow, toes small and pink.

"Enedwaith. I left when I was thirteen. Went traveling and learning medicine."

"Why Bree then?" She pushed her fist under her chin again, so that she could see his face, and shrugged.

"It was as good a place as any. I was not planning to stay there long. When we met, I had served there for two years already, longer than anywhere before. And after... I considered going back to Gondor, but..."

"But..?" He had already learnt her tells, and judging by suddenly fluttering lashes and bright blush on her cheekbones, he breached another embarrassing topic.

"But I did not." He grabbed a handful of her unruly curls at the back of her head and made her look in his eyes.

"Were you waiting for me, honourable healer?" Mahal, he hoped she would say yes. She tried to twist out of his grip, but he held her firmly though gently.

"How would you have found me then, had I left?" She blurted out, and he let her go. She pressed her forehead to him and then suddenly bit into his skin. Hard. He let out a fake yelp, and she gave him an haughty look. "That will teach you not to embarrass me in the future!" He guffawed and pulled her to his lips.

She relaxed into his kiss, and he cupped her face, his thumbs on her delicate jaw, his fingers in her remarkable hair, and he whispered into her widened happy eyes, "I would have found you." They smiled to each other, and after a bit more wiggling, which left him rather bothered, she found another comfortable position.

"You are very pleasant to lie on." Now she was definitely teasing. "Lots of room, warm, Dwarves are so much hotter than men of other races..." It was indeed pleasant, although he would choose a different word. She fit into him, something that had tortured him in his dreams before, the memories of that short chaste embrace of seven years ago and the way her body seemed to conform with his, complement it, all her seemingly angular, small figure finding just the right places to mold into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she purred.

"So what were you doing all these seven years, while waiting for me, honorable healer?" She made a scornful noise, and he retaliated with another squeeze of her buttock.

"I served. I travelled here and there. I studied and learnt. I went dancing with my friend Thea," she gave him another impish look. "Do you dance, my lord?" He hiked one brow. She giggled. "I think I knew the answer to this question. What else... I learnt Khuzdul and read everything possible about Dwarven culture."

"And nothing else?" She pretended to think really hard about it, and he chuckled.

"No, I do not think so… Is my lord asking about something specific?" She looked at him with pointedly innocent eyes.

"Well, I do not know..." He feigned pensiveness as well. "Marriages, children, illicit affairs..." It was her turn to raise her brow sceptically, and he stroked her back. He did not know himself why he was asking. The past did not matter, and he knew if anything his would be more colourful and harder to ignore, but he needed confirmation. She was still giving him a sardonic look, and he felt like a dimwit and quickly tried to find another topic of conversation. He cleared his throat, when she chuckled and spoke.

"There was no man in my life through these seven years." He unsuccessfully tried to hide the satisfaction. She snorted and continued impishly, "I cannot say there were crowds seeking my attention though. To think of it since I became of age there was maybe a handful of men interested in me at all. Most were intoxicated. Oh wait, there was this one Dwarf seven years ago..." He guffawed and just could not help it anymore. He pushed her into sheets and let himself enjoy her a bit. He kept on holding back, already knowing how easy it was to lose control with her. She did not though, her hands roaming his torso, obviously curious, exploring, and then they slid up and found his ears. She rubbed the helixes, the tips of her fingers brushed on the earcuff, and she smiled.

"You are a very unusual Dwarf, are you not?" She murmured.

"I am a Dwarf like any other, honorable healer." He felt they were talking for the sake of talking, and it felt surprisingly good.

"You are taller than most," her fingers ran along his spine, and his back covered in goosebumps. Her movements were almost chaste, inexperienced, but he felt how eager she was, and it made it really hard not to ravish her right away. "And in some spots narrower," her small palms brushed his hips and then she suddenly wrapped her legs around his waist. "But you obviously fit very well."

"Vixen," he leaned in and caught her earlobe between his teeth. She gasped, and her arms tightened around his neck. "It is so hard to keep myself under control with you." He smiled to her and leaned in to kiss her neck.

And then in the corner of his eye he caught her returned smile waver, and he thought he felt her body go a bit more rigid. He lifted his face and gave her an attentive look. She looked absolutely blissful, but the grain of doubt had already been planted into his mind. He thought back at a few instants ago and tried to understand what spoiled her mood. He knew he would find out eventually. He was a very stubborn Dwarf. She lay under him, her legs around his pelvis, her hands buried in his hair.

And then she suddenly asked, "Can I... Can I touch the braids?" He met her eyes, and she looked shy. Apparently, she knew the significance of hair. He smiled and nodded. She unwrapped one of her slender arms from his neck, and the delicate tiny fingers touched the thick black plaid on the side of his face. Her eyes were warm, the lashes suddenly fluttered, and he saw her eyes grow vulnerable, emotion splashing in them.

"You do not have to ask me, my heart," her eyes widened, and he heard her holding her breath, "You are my wife. You never have to ask." He gently kissed her cheek. "And you are my Queen as well. All I have is yours."

She was still staring at the braids, the fingers of her second hand wrapped around another plaid now, and then she took a deep breath, obviously gathering her thoughts, and decisively met his eyes.

"I apologise for intruding last night. It was unseemly." He stared at her in surprise. What gave her an impression he was not happy to see her? "And I was very direct… I seem to have not yet found my footing in my new position..." He wondered if that was what bothered her, that he would think she was improper, her behaviour too loose for a Queen.

"You aware of the Dwarven ways, my lady. Aren't you?" She blinked, shaking off some sort of pensiveness, and lifted her brows.

"If you mean the Dwarven sexuality, yes, you know I am."

"Nothing you could do would be too lewd or direct, my heart," he kissed her other cheek, "Compared to what Dwarves do habitually." She frowned and gave it a thought.

"I was told I had unhealthy appetites." He choked and gave her an incredulous look. She blushed furiously but apparently was determined to continue. "I know I do not, but I still feel very conscious. And I..." She took a deep breath, and although he had never been the most sensitive of men, Thorin understood she needed to be given a chance to talk. "I know I am unattractive… I still do not know why you… No, that is not what I want to say. I want to say that I am worried." None of her words made sense but he realized she was approaching something important, something that had been bothering her, and he acutely felt the need for her to be open with him.

"What worries you, my heart?" He kept his tone soft, his thumb softly brushing on her healthy cheekbone, his weight still pressing on her.

"That I am undesirable. I know I am being absurd… I am… Am I not?" Her brows were drawn together, and he decided that was enough. Her talking obviously was not working. They needed to try something else. He pressed his lips to hers, she gasped, but he did not allow her a moment to think, he pushed his hand under her head, another one slid under her buttocks, and he deepened the kiss. She moaned, and he opened her mouth with his tongue. His palm slipped higher, and he covered her small breast. She throatily moaned, her whole body answering him, her back arching, her hands immediately grasping his shoulders firmly. He tore his mouth from hers and spoke into her giant feverish eyes.

"I desire you." His voice was raspy, and she started shaking. "And you are the most beautiful woman for me. Everything about you is desirable. I feel like a dimwit. I cannot calmly look at you. Even your feet."

"Feet?" She squeaked and looked at him as if he had just told her he was secretly an Elf.

"Yes, even the feet," he nodded firmly, "They are tiny and pink. I have unhealthy appetites even looking at your feet. With that settled, we are going to have a sincere conversation now, my heart." His tone was assertive, and she blinked. "I think you should openly tell me what bothers you." She chewed on her bottom lip, and his eyes immediately fell on it. She had an unusual mouth, wide, lips bright red, as if painted, the upper lip curved, the bottom one full, and he lifted his hand and gently brushed his thumb on them, releasing the lip she was worrying. "Well, my lady? I am waiting." He could see her considering and weighing, but then she composed herself and spoke.

"My past and only lover was… cruel to me. He was violent sometimes, but it was not the physical violence that was most painful. He convinced me I was unworthy, unattractive, that did not take much effort, to be honest… He would say that I was sick for wanting affection, for thinking I deserved any, for putting myself first sometimes, for…" Her voice wavered, and he saw her bit into her bottom lip again. Her eyes were full of tears but they did not spill. His little Queen had a will of steel.

There were a few moments of silence in the room, and then she cleared her throat and asked, "Are you planning his slow and painful murder in your head, my lord?" He assumed she guessed by the expression on his face. She chuckled joylessly, "He is dead now. He died in a Haradrin attack in Gondor ten years ago. Aldacar… His name was Aldacar. After that I left and went to Bree. Just like thousands of other women in such relationships, I could not leave him… I should have, but I did not. He died and freed me." He did not know what to say. She exhaled sharply, and her face lost the pained expression. "I healed, it took years, but I know now that all he did to me was to keep me under his power, and none of it was true. But I have scars. And I worry sometimes."

"About what?" He needed her to tell him what to do, how to help her.

"You hold back. You kiss me and then move away. I apologise, I am being unreasonable, I should appreciate your reverence towards our marriage, but..."

"I can hardly control myself with you. My heart, look at me," she met his eyes, and he quickly kissed her lips, "If it convinces you I will bed you right now. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than making you mine. Say a word, and I am yours." He was holding her stare, and then suddenly the corners of her lips twitched, her eyes lost the cautious, slightly frightened look in them, and she bit her bottom lip again. But this time it was definitely a very hesitant flirtiness.

"You do possess a lot of self-control, my lord."

"There is hardly any left, my lady," he sounded grouchy, and she tentatively chuckled. "Not after you climaxed twice in my hands last night." With pleasure he noted he managed to induce more blushing on her cheeks. "Wren, you are my One. We are to wed, and I will show you how much I desire you. I want to wait because it is different from anything I have ever had. You are different." His last phrase made her wince, and he realized that sometimes he would say something she had heard from that man. But now he knew better. "You are different because you are better, more precious, more important. Nothing will ever compare to you. Are we in agreement?"

She smiled shakily and nodded. He leaned in and kissed her thoroughly. He let his hands touch every inch of her, showing her how much he enjoyed it, and she was breathing faster and faster, and he decided he was doing it right. She looked sufficiently dazed, and he grasped the hem of her nightdress and pulled it up.

"Are we…?" She stumbled over her question, and he chuckled into her knee that he was currently kissing.

"We are not. But you are," he pushed the dress higher and pressed his lips to her thigh. She made a choked sound and to his shock grabbed his ears. Then she gently pulled him up, making him align his body with hers. He met her remarkable eyes, and they were pleading.

"Can we talk some more, please? I know men are not fond of talking about feelings, but..." He caught her mouth in a kiss, while his hand kept on pulling her dress higher.

"I can do two things at the same time, my heart," she was staring at him round-eyed, and he finally managed to pull the nightgown off her. He pressed his lips to her clavicle, and nuzzled her skin there. "After the wedding I am keeping you in my chambers for a week, no clothes allowed."

"A week?" She asked squeakily, and he smiled into her skin.

"I would take a moon, but we have a city to rule." His lips traveled lower, and he slid his mouth between her breasts. She had amazing skin, smooth and soft, as if glowing, and from his ministrations he saw a gentle pink spread all over her body. He wanted to savour the moment, proceed slowly with her, but she was panting under him and he was quickly heating up. He threw the caution aside and took her nipple in his mouth. She made another choked sound and grabbed handfuls of his hair. She actually pulled rather hard, and he assumed he was too rough. He let go and looked up at her. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly open, and then she gently pushed his head down towards her breasts. He exhaled with relief and returned his attention to her bright taut peaks. Both received equal treatment, and she was making soft mewling sounds. She was apparently very vocal, and he ground his teeth. It was very hard to keep himself from taking her right then, but it was not even about the wedding now. He needed her to trust him.

"Tell me what you want, my heart, tell me what feels good," he whispered into her soft stomach, and she moaned. He saw her hands fisted on the sheets, in a vulnerable childish gesture, and he felt almost painful tenderness towards her.

"I need to see your eyes," her voice was hardly audible, but firm. He moved up her body and met her burning eyes. She cupped his face with one hand, and then pressed her lips to his. "I need to see… I will know…" She murmured between the kisses, but he did not hear her anymore. Hot wave of passion flooded him, and he rolled on his side and pulled her into him. He made her lie on his arm, and then wrapped it around her shoulders, pulled her even closer, and his second hand slid between her legs. She gasped, but she did not move away or tense as he expected. Her bent leg lay on him, she opened up for him, keeping her eyes locked with his. He hoped she saw how much he valued her trusting him, and then his finger slid into her, making her raspily moan and arch. He buried his face into her neck, a frantic pulse beating under his lips, her floral smell flooded his senses, and he felt her whole body move to meet his hand. They moved together, his head spinning, her soft moans resonating in the tall room, and then she cried out, her hand clawing on his shoulder, another one curled into his chest, and she pressed into him, feverishly murmuring his name.

He gently pulled his hand back, but she did not seem to notice, her breathing sharp and shallow, her forehead pressed to his chest, and he lay on his back, pulling her on top of him. He pulled covers over her and saw her lashes flutter and her eyes close. She seemed immediately sleepy after her release just like last night, and he assumed that was her usual reaction. He found it endearing.

She slept for five minutes, he started nodding off himself, when she suddenly jerked and stared at him with astonished eyes.

"Did I fall asleep?" He nodded and kissed the tip of her nose. She rubbed her eyes. "I am sorry, I am always sleepy after..." She waved her hand in the air, and he chuckled. Did she just try to gesture a carnal rapture? She giggled too and hid her face into him. "I am bare again. Is this going to be a custom with you, my lord?"

"But of course," he kissed the crown of her head. Then he picked up a curl of her flaming hair that had scattered on her shoulder. "It is very beautiful hair, my heart. You should let it grow out." She gave him a surprised look.

"It is orange like a carrot! And it sticks out all the time." She looked more surprised than when he confessed he liked her feet. He chuckled.

"It is magnificent. Like fire or coppered gold." He splayed his fingers in her mane and then pulled his hand out slowly, curls slithering between his digits.

"The next thing you will say you like the freckles!" She sounded so shocked that he guffawed.

He gently took her chin in his hand and whispered into her surprised eyes, "I love the freckles. I kept on staring at them seven years ago. I felt like an imbecile. I was faking pain, and you were touching my stomach. I thought I would take you on the floor in the infirmary in front of all those people." Her jaw slacked, and she opened and closed her mouth several times. He watched her with great pleasure. But his smug expression quickly dropped after her next statement.

"I had dreams of performing fellatio on you for days after seeing you in the bathtub." And there he was, forgetting whom he was dealing with. Impossible, glorious woman! He closed his mouth with a clank of teeth and started laughing.

"I sometimes forget you are not a gentle dove, do I?" She laughed too and caught his mouth. His hands met on her narrow back, and he ran his fingers along her spine paying special attention to her magnificent shoulder blades.

And then she moved away and smacked his shoulder. "You faked pain! I thought I was losing my touch!" He cocked a brow taunting her, and she laughed again. "I always know when patients are in pain, and I did not feel anything from you then. I thought I had lost my healer's abilities."

He loved her like that. Relaxed, laughing, free with him. She had just smacked him! And just because no one had ever been so familiar and dear to him, he pulled her to him and growled, "Do not hit me, woman!" And just as he hoped, her answer was equally ridiculous.

"Do not call me woman!" They laughed, and he cupped her face. They were kissing for a while, and then his fingers accidentally brushed the bruise on her cheekbone. She hissed, and he let her go, remorseful.

"Forgive me..." She snorted and gave him an impish look.

"What will the Elves think… They already consider Dwarves brutish and uncivilized. I might need to hide my face under a cloak. Good thing the hood is so big." He just could not believe it. Not more than a half an hour ago she confessed to having been abused, and now she was joking about it! She continued her frolics. "Should I say I tumbled down some stairs?" He looked at her attentively, she was so sober, so resilient. Admirable qualities from a Dwarf's point of view, but still surprising in a small girl from Men. She chuckled couple more times and settled on his chest. She treaded her fingers into his chest hair and sighed. "I am so happy that it is frightening..."

He gently stroked her hair and picked up her hand. He pressed it to his lips, and for the first time in his life Thorin Oakenshield said, and to his own surprise felt he did not lie, "I am happy too."

She nuzzled him, not understanding the significance of the moment and yawned. "I am glad. I wonder when we can have breakfast. I am starving."