Author's Note:

I seem to have problems with my FF account. I'd posted Chapter 13, and it didn't seem that the site had sent the notifications about it, at least to me. Overall, the updates are showing strangely. So, if you missed the previous chapter, have a look!

Also, I had an idea of a sequel for this story, since Thorin and Wrena were clearly on a steady route to full reconciliation - and then I decided I'll just continue writing here. So, buckle up for a new plot twist ;)

Love you all, my dear readers! Cheerio!

kkolmakov

A fortnight later, the family was having the evening meal. Thorin was feeling the headache setting in, and he rubbed his forehead. The children seemed especially noisy to him; and Dis' voice - engaged in yet another quiet hissy verbal match with Revna - made him cringe. He finished his plate faster than others, pushed it away, and left, grumbling his goodbyes under his nose.

He returned to his study. There were still letters to finish. He ruined two quills, and the drafts were unusually messy and blotched. The delays in the provision shipments through the Mirkwood had been grating on his nerves for weeks now, and he truly didn't appreciate the ambiguous and haughty tone of the Elvenking's response letter.

A knock came to the door, and he invited the visitor in. Wrena came in, in her usual determined swift manner, a bunch of letters and a register in her hands. They were supervising the renovations the Western Halls together, both his forges and her infirmary had storages there.

She placed the papers on his desk without looking him, and curtly commented on the changes she made in two contracts.

She had already turned around to leave, when he called after her.

"Wrena, could you wait a jiffy?" She looked over her shoulder - and that was when he noticed the cold tense expression on his face. "Is everything alright? You seemed awfully quiet at dinner."

"Oh, you noticed…" she muttered; and he gave her a surprised look. She opened her mouth, her eyes narrowed, their expression prickly - but then she paused and sighed. "It's nothing."

"It is not nothing," he said softly. "Please, talk to me." He rose from his desk and came up to her. "Wrena…"

He saw her hesitate, the painfully familiar guarded expression on her face; and then she shook her head.

"It is truly nothing of importance, Thorin. I am just… tired, all this Autumn hustle. I'm just more easily affected by… everyone's moods."

That was something confusing, something of the realm he was so incompetent in - but then a suspicion came.

"Do you mean my moods?" he asked, and she pressed her lips in an even thinner line. "Wrena, we need to speak openly. I don't understand…"

She didn't answer, and he gently picked up her hand and pulled her towards a settee by the woodstove. She followed somewhat grudgingly.

They sat down, and he gave her a pointed expectant look.

"I know you can't see it," she started, her eyes lowered to their linked hands. "And I know you do not intend it to be difficult. But I do get affected by other's moods, and yours especially. And you've been… disagreeable recently." She threw him a melancholic look. "You've been quiet. You answer in sentences no longer than three words. You barked at the children yesterday. They had been out of line, I agree - and they forgot it immediately. But it upsets me. I've lived with you and your temper for years, but you had made promises, and I started believing them…"

Thorin remained silent. The first response in him, of course, was anger; and he almost jerked his hand back from hers - but then he saw that she didn't try to stop him. She was sitting, her eyes sad, corners of her mouth lowered. She knew he'd resent her words - and she'd accepted it. She didn't trust him to react reasonably. She'd anticipated he'd remain blind to her discomfort and throw her concern aside.

Thorin picked up her second hand softly, and tilted his head, peering in her eyes.

"I apologise, Wrena. I don't see that I upset you. And that my behaviour is disagreeable."

She threw him a look, and he could see that he'd surprised her. There was a fair amount of mistrust in her eyes as well.

"Forgive me?" he asked softly.

"It is not your fault," she answered. "You're just…"

"Grouchy?" he offered, and she gave out a surprised snort.

"I was going to say 'taxed,'" she said softly, and shifted closer to him on the settee. "We're all feeling the strain, Thorin. But we're fighting the same fight; we need to support each other. It's vexing enough having to listen to Dis and Revna bicker. You brooding in your chair is just too much…" She peeked, no doubt to see how he'd take these words - and he chuckled, and leaned in.

Her lips were familiar and sweet, and her breath tasted of the raspberry preserves she had had with her tea. He deepened the kiss, and she arched into him, readily; one arm going around his neck. She felt soft, and warm, and pliant, and so very bewitching. A soft gasp fell from her lips, when he shifted his attention onto her neck. He could feel the pulse frantically thrash under the ivory skin on the vulnerable throat.

He felt the small hand dance on his middle; and then he realized she unbuttoned his double, and the nimble fingers danced around his waist, first over the tunic; and then seeking bare skin.

A new suspicion came - this time, an amusing one.

"Am I being trained like a pony, my queen?" he asked. His arm was around her waist, and he leaned her backwards, onto the settee. "Am I receiving a lump of sugar for the corrected behaviour?"

She laughed; and he kissed the collarbones, and then stuck his nose into the frilly lace around the cleavage. She choked on her frolics, and her chest heaved in a sharp inhale. He decided to seize the opportunity, and thoroughly nuzzled the pale skin, burrowing his nose between the wonderful soft rounds.

She breathed out a surprised 'oh.' With the exception of the incident in her study all those moons ago - and the cave one, to think of it - the two of them had always chosen traditional locations for any sort of impropriety. They were now on a settee, too short and narrow for even one of them, in his study, with all the court still awake. It was thrilling!

His hand snaked under her, onto the back, and he blindly found the lacing, his mouth till caressing the tops of her breasts. She was breathing laboriously - but she did not protest or suggest changing any proceedings. And then he heard his belt buckle click under her fingers.

The Winter had settled over the Mountain and the Valley, like a thick heavy eiderdown. The Kingdom as if went to sleep. The Dwarves would stay in their Halls, working on their crafts, enjoying the time with their families. Eventually, sufficient provisions and supplies had been prepared; and Thorin was looking forward to a calm cozy months ahead of them. More time could be spent in his family halls; and he fully enjoyed having more time with his children. Dain, the youngest, was now an active and jolly tot; and Thorin had quite forgotten how merry they could be at this age. Dain had his mother's wide mouth, and seemed to always be on the verge of bursting into happy laughter. Thror was all about his studies and axe training; and Thorin and him spent a lot of time on the grounds. Unna was showing promise in archery; Thorin would join her at the range almost every day.

Wrena seemed content - but Thorin wasn't intending to lose vigilance. He was following through with his initial plan - showing her more attention, offering help and support when he could, purposefully allocating time for just the two of them. He assumed he was succeeding - considering the fervor she was showing for him recently. With some sort of smug amusement he'd remember that the two of them had been behaving most immodest - and daring these days. First, it was his study. Then there was that time she asked him to help her with the inventory she was going through in a pantry, then locked the door behind them - and it turned out there was no inventory. Then there was the time when he wandered into her study late in the evening; she was reading and having tea; and her lips tasted like raspberry preserves again - and it turned out her training him had worked, and now the taste would put him quite in the mood. There were mornings, when soft snowflakes fell behind the colourful glass of their windows, and suddenly he didn't rush to start the day, like he normally had. Instead, he'd find a warm soft body under the sheets, and ask whether his wife was content in her life these days, and she would readily press into him, cheeks rosy after sleep, and eyes brilliant, and whisper, 'Quite so, but perhaps we could strengthen the foundation?' Her tone would be playful; and he would guffaw - and the day wouldn't start for another hour or two.

And then the merchants arrived from the Iron Hills, and among them Lord Amri, son of Marni.

The Dwarf was young, about a hundred and twenty. His father was of an old clan, who married a woman of dubious morals and heritage for her looks. Lord Amri was exceptionally tall of a Dwarf, almost as tall as Thorin. He had a strong handsome face; dark wavy locks; and was a known charmer. What was unusual for a rake like him - he was well liked by men. He was a skilled warrior, a hero of the Battle of the Five Army. He drank well; played cards; lost joyously and always paid his debts. He chased women, but never showed disrespect. He was quite a strange character for a Khuzd - but altogether not a reprobate.

Thorin hated him from the first look. He found out all of the above about the young Dwarf a moon after, when he started carefully asking around. To think of it, if it hadn't been for the newly found romance in his marriage, Thorin probably would have remained blind for much longer - but he noticed the look Lord Amri threw to the Queen as soon as the merchants stepped into the audience hall.

Rumours started as soon as three days later. Lord Amri didn't make any secret of his admiration for the Queen - and people started talking. After all, speaking of the eyes and shoulders of a married woman was just not done - and the Queen, for that matter!

Thorin, as any Dwarven husband if ever one were to find himself in such circumstances, felt completely at loss. It wasn't as if the man propositioned the Queen! And even if he had, Thorin couldn't possibly approach her and ask whether she needed protection - which would be a disrespectful and preposterous thought altogether - or even more ridiculously, whether she returned the young Dwarf's misplaced affections.

Wrena, meanwhile, seemed completely unaware - and that puzzled and irked Thorin even more. Surely, the gossip should have reached her! The man was overheard admiring her physique and her mind on many occasions.

Lord Amri's compliments had also never been lewd or impertinent - so even if anyone who heard him wanted to confront him regarding his behaviour, they wouldn't find anything to reprimand him for.

Lord Amri had announced to Erebor that he admired and worshipped its queen - and it was absolutely unclear what was to be done about it. Or whether anything was to be done at all.

To be continued…

P.S. If you feel like supporting my writing and my art, I've recently set up a P.A.T.R.E.O.N page. The name is Katya Kolmakov. Have a peek! :) Your support is highly appreciated :)