Faramir collapsed against the furs which were piled on Thorin's bed all of which, disturbingly, seemed to be Warg pelts. Also now that he was laying directly on top of them he could see that many of them were covered in holes made by arrows or axes.

"Did you have someone collect every Warg on the battlefield and turn them into your bedding?" he mused, pushing strands of his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Something like that," answered Thorin, the strong hands grasping his hips tightened and there was a slight sting of pain and then the Dwarf King flopped onto his back beside him, his chest heaving for breath. "I'm too old for this."

"Nonsense," said Faramir, propping himself up on his elbow and placing a hand on Thorin's hairy chest. He had been pleasantly surprised when Thorin had removed his ever present armour and tunic to reveal that he was thick with pure muscle rather than fat, and that all that muscle seemed to be covered with a veritable pelt of dark body hair. "You did valiantly."

Thorin huffed in response. "You are far too young and I am far too old."

Faramir wound a strand of the Dwarf's chest hair around his finger and smiled when one blue eye was cracked open to look at him. "Tell me about him."

"What?" asked Thorin.

"Your beloved," he answered. "You've met mine, I feel at a disadvantage."

Those thick brows furrowed and Faramir found himself being glared at, he didn't falter though and returned it with a smile.

"He's very brave," he answered with a deep sigh.

"Well he would have to be," said Faramir, giving a chuckle when Thorin batted at him. "Go on."

"He's brave despite having lived a sheltered and comfortable life." Thorin's fingers curled around the braid in Faramir's hair and dragged him down to lie against his chest. "So very unlike a Dwarrow. He's well read and an excellent cook."

"I would very much like to meet him," said Faramir.

Thick fingers carded through his hair. "I wish you could meet him."

"Maybe one day I will," he answered, suddenly there was a loud tapping noise from the only window in the King's apartments. "What's that?"

Thorin gave a deep groan and those fingers tightened in his hair almost possessively, before relaxing and the Dwarf slid out of the bed and walked towards the window as bare as the day he was born. He pulled open the window and there sat a huge black raven, a roll of parchment attached to its leg which it stuck out for Thorin to untie the message.

"Thank you," he said, taking a piece of dried meat from a container on the windowsill and giving it to the raven.

Faramir watched as he placed the parchment on his desk, and then disappeared into his dressing room to return wearing a clean tunic. He slowly unrolled the parchment and began reading it.

"And what of your nephew? The one that all this is in aid of?" he asked.

"He reminds me …" Thorin looked up from the parchment with a stricken look on his face. "He reminds me of you actually."

Faramir couldn't help but laugh at that. "Then he must be a very special Dwarf indeed."

"Yes," answered Thorin, returning to his parchment. "And let us never talk about that again."

"Should I return to my rooms?" he asked, preparing to get of the bed and leave the King in peace.

"No," answered Thorin, shaking his head. "I need to meet with Balin immediately." He strode over to where Faramir was reclining against the pillows and pressed a kiss to his lips which Faramir deepened into a languid affair which caused a slow curl of arousal in the pit of his stomach. "You sleep here tonight."

Faramir was half tempted to grab him by the beard and drag him back into bed, there was something erotic about knowing that it wasn't just Boromir that desired him, even if it was only his body that Thorin found attractive. "You just like the idea of me naked in your bed."

The Dwarf hummed at him, kissed his temple and then walked from the room, leaving Faramir to snuggled beneath the Warg pelts and let his body succumb to the aches and exhaustion that comes after a passionate encounter.

He awoke many hours later to find that Thorin had brought Balin with him, and Faramir quickly made sure that all of his vital parts were covered by the bedding and his face burnt with embarrassment.

"Didn't waste any time did you laddie?" asked Balin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he looked at his King.

"Balin …" began Thorin.

"No need to explain," said Balin, patting him on the arm. "He is rather fair for a human that is, at least they can grow beards."

Faramir immediately placed his hand against his chin and felt the prickliness of a few days beard growth, he really needed to go to Dale and find something to shave with.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, sitting up against the pillows.

Balin left his Kings side and moved to sit beside him on the bed. "How do you fancy speaking for Erebor at a delegation in Rivendell?"

"Me?" he asked, looking from one Dwarf to the other in surprise. "But I have only been here a fortnight, I know very little of this Kingdom nor its people."

"Balin will be going with you," said Thorin. "Though I need someone who can be around the Elves without wanting to throw all of them into the river. I also need someone who can speak for us with Gondor."

"Gondor?" he asked. "Gondor are sending representatives?"

"Yes of course," said Thorin. "It is a meeting about Mordor and how that threat should be faced, and how my sister-son shall be returned to his betrothed. Denethor has sent his eldest to speak for him."

It was at that moment he understood exactly what Thorin was asking and offering.

"Boromir," he said. "I'll see Boromir again?"

Balin nodded and a smile broke out on his withered face. "It's a three week ride if we go through the gap of Rohan and ride swiftly, so we must leave as soon as possible."

"I am sending Dwalin and some of the Guard with you," said Thorin. "I will not see either of you injured or captured. Now go and pack."