Fili made a satisfied humming noise low in his throat, his lips travelling down Sigrid's neck. "Mmm. Good. I would have been so disappointed."
Sigrid gave a low chuckle. "Is it every dwarf lad's dream, then, a willing lass in the forge?"
"A dwarf lass in the forge is more likely to tell you to hand over the hammer and get out of the way."
"Well, they're missing out, that's all I can say," she murmured, with a gasp as Fili's lips found the tip of her breast. His tongue swirled around it gently, mindful of her tenderness, then trailed its way across to its partner. Sigrid ran her hands over Fili's shoulders to his upper back, feeling the movements of his muscles under his skin as he opened her blouse wider in front. He drew back to gaze at her in appreciation, his hands gently sliding into her waist, and then stopped in dismay.
"Fili?" Sigrid whispered, her hand clutching at her blouse. "What is it? Don't tell me someone's coming?"
Fili looked sheepish. "No, it's not that. Folks around here know better than to interrupt a dwarf when he's forging. No, I'm getting charcoal all over you. I'm sorry, love."
Sigrid relaxed in relief, and looked down at the sooty smear on the side of her breast, barely one inch by two, where Fili's thumb had grazed her skin. She shrugged, propped her arms on the bench behind her, and leaned back, kicking off her shoes to caress him with her stockinged foot and doing her best to give what she hoped was a seductive look.
"Well, you have to expect to get branded if you want to bed a blacksmith," she said. "I hope it won't be the last." She sat forward again and reached for the string of Fili's leather apron where it was knotted at his waist. She grinned at her success as he hastily pulled the knot undone and flung the apron aside, stepping closer between her legs, and she slid her hands down his bare chest, revelling in the feel of him. Further down, his shaft was pressing firmly against his breeches, and she reached down to caress him through the fabric, and lightly stroked her fingernails up and down his length. When she looked back up and met his eyes, the heat in them made her catch her breath.
"What you do to me, Sigrid mine," he whispered hoarsely. He leaned back in to nuzzle into her hair and neck, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth, and one hand slipped between her legs to press through her linens against her sex. He started working her gently, methodically, expertly, and she clung to his shoulders as her back arched in response, melting into his touch.
"Mmm, what you do to me, Fili mine," she whispered. She breathed in, deeply, and pulled back to look at him, and there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. "You know, I believe I could learn to like smithing after all."
He chuckled softly, and leaned in to her neck, seeking again the sweet fragrance that he found there, and ran both hands up her thighs to take hold of her linens. "I've been telling you for years how much fun it is, love," he murmured. "Now do you believe me?" She lifted her hips as he slid her linens down, and he stepped out of the way as they dropped to the floor, then he slipped his hand into the softness between her thighs once again.
"Mmm. You make a persuasive argument, my love," she breathed, and she tugged open the drawstring of his breeches and reached inside to caress him. He groaned, and pulled her hips closer to the edge of the bench. Built to dwarven scale, the workbench was exactly the height he needed it to be, and for one brief distracted moment he wondered if it had been designed that way on purpose. Then Sigrid guided the head of his shaft to where she wanted it, and rubbed it against her, and he groaned again, all thoughts driven from his mind but for those of his sweet wife's eyes and her hands and the sound of the soft gasps and moans she was making, and the way her fingers felt on his body and in his hair, and the scent of her, and the pleasure they were giving to each other, as he eased into her wet heat and began moving.
His hands curved around her hips as he drove into her. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, and she leaned on one arm to brace herself, the other clinging around his neck. He wasn't going to last: the look in her beautiful eyes, fixed on his with such passion, their location, even the very position he was taking her in, all had him inflamed to such an extent that it was all he could do to hold on. He ground into her, angling her body to drive against her bud, and her head fell back, and he felt her walls convulsing around his shaft as she cried out, and he was lost. He spent himself inside her, surging again and again, his heart pounding in his chest, then he pulled her body close and collapsed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and skirts and dishevelled hair.
He slid his hand up her neck to her cheek and brought her face to his to kiss her lips, still trembling, panting between kisses, and rested his forehead against hers.
"Amrâlimê. Beloved. That was…" he whispered. He had no more words.
"It was, wasn't it?" she whispered back. "And here I thought smithing wasn't for me."
He grinned as he nuzzled into her neck, and held her close as his heart beat slowed. Eventually she shifted beside him, and he put his arm around her and she leaned her head onto his shoulder. They sat in silence, savouring the afterglow of their passion, until Fili spoke softly.
"Sigrid love. Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, my love," she replied.
"When you came into the forge…"
"Ye-es," she said slowly, prompting him to finish.
"You wanted me."
She lifted her head to look at him, and he could see the lingering echoes of her desire in the intensity of her gaze. "Of course I wanted you. No-one in their right mind wouldn't have wanted you, Fili."
He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, and gazed back at her, his voice even softer. "Why didn't you just say so, love?"
"You were working. I didn't want to interrupt you," she said simply.
"You didn't want to interrupt me?" he repeated, surprised, and then he laughed. "Is that all, truly?"
"I was thinking of my work at home. I can't say that I'd be very impressed if you came in and started trying to seduce me while I was, I don't know, in the Dale sewing circle, or feeding soup to an invalid or something." She thought for a moment, then shrugged, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Although I do hate sewing."
He chuckled and snuggled her closer. "I'll make a note. Sewing circle, yes; invalids and soup, no."
"It would liven up the meetings," she said with a laugh, and then she paused, and angled him a sly look from under her lashes. "You didn't seem to mind too much, though, with your 'How do we make it longer, Sigrid,' and your 'I'm all sweaty and handsome, come here and let me tease you, Sigrid.' Admit it."
"I do admit it, gladly and shamelessly," he said. "I loved it." He leaned in for a kiss. Then his eyes narrowed, a wry smirk making his dimples pop in his cheeks. "'Sweaty and handsome,' you say? You liked watching me. Admit that."
Sigrid didn't answer immediately, but rose onto her knees, gathering up her skirts, and swung her leg over his to straddle his lap. With another hum of satisfaction he ran his hands into her open blouse at her waist, and saw again the smudge of charcoal on the side of her breast. He licked his thumb and rubbed it off, and leaned forward to soothe the reddened skin with his lips.
"Fili, my love, Mahal himself couldn't have looked more glorious," she murmured, her fingers in his hair. "Baby number three, definitely being conceived in the forge."
They had to head back. Fili banked the coals of the forge, and they tidied themselves up as best they could, brushing off the dust of the floor and rubbing at the other charcoal marks on their skin, and made their way back to their room to clean up properly, hand in hand, on the lookout to try to avoid being seen by any curious eyes. Once bathed and dried and re-braided into a semblance of respectability, Sigrid laid out some of the clothes Bennon had brought her, remembering Marni's sneer of disdain at her appearance last night. She chose a simple gown of cream silk, with seamed piecing under the bust that drew the eye away from her stomach, flowing around her waist at either side and curving over her backside into a full skirt, modest in front but with a v-shaped back revealing a triangle of skin from her neck almost to the small of her back. Unlike her other gowns, it had hardly needed any adjustment from Bennon that afternoon, cut as it already was to accommodate her curves, on the bias of the fabric, and she felt confident that no-one could suspect she was pregnant from her silhouette. Fili, too, looked very dapper in his embroidered shirt as he grinned and held out his arm to take her to supper, and together they headed out to the dining hall, the two of them the only ones any the wiser about what they'd been up to that afternoon.
All eyes turned their way as they entered and passed through the crowd to the top of the hall. They made their courtesies to Dain and Madlen, who were already seated, and a moment later Marni and Nyrath joined them. Marni didn't make eye contact, but as he nodded his welcome Nyrath looked Sigrid up and down, and his eyes narrowed, making Sigrid feel vaguely unsettled. She hadn't done anything to annoy him, as far as she knew, and she wondered if perhaps Marni had been spreading her spite again. She was glad once more that she was seated away from the two of them, at the other end of the honour table.
"How'd you like my forge, Fili?" Dain bellowed down the table past Madlen and Sigrid, between mouthfuls of food. "I haven't used it in years. Was everything up to scratch?"
Fili leaned closer to Sigrid as he replied to Dain, his arm along the back of her chair and the tips of his fingers softly caressing the exposed skin of her back. Sigrid looked down at her food and tried to concentrate on eating.
"Dain, it was the finest forge I've ever had the pleasure of working in, without a doubt," Fili said smoothly, straight-faced. "Sigrid thought so too, didn't you, love?"
Dain beamed, then looked at Sigrid, surprised and pleased. "He's got you interested in smithing at last, lass? I'm pleased to hear it."
"Yes, he has," Sigrid said, laying down her knife and fork and turning towards Dain, amusement curving the corners of her mouth as she joined Fili's game. "Only very recently, though. I'd love to get back in there, if we have the time." Fili's fingers were at the nape of her neck, teasing loose a tendril of her hair to play with. He twirled it gently around his finger, then let it unravel as he slid the back of his finger down Sigrid's spine. She drew in a sharp breath.
Madlen surprised them all by speaking up in her soft, deferential voice. "I'm glad you found the forge acceptable. We may not have the wealth of Erebor, but we can hold our own. As I hope you'll see again, when we present your feast." She laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Dain, dear, if you'll make the official announcement?"
"Yes, yes. Right you are, dear," he blustered. He raised his voice to boom out to the furthest corners of the hall. "Feast, everyone. Day after tomorrow."
Despite the sudden delighted hubbub and scattered applause from the crowd in front of them, Sigrid didn't miss Madlen's sigh beside her, nor Marni's disapproving "Oh, Adad," from the other end of the table. Dain, however, remained oblivious to his family's chagrin, and tucked back in to his food.
As they finished their meal and prepared to leave, Fili noticed Lis with a group of dwarf lasses hovering at the side of the hall, looking up at Sigrid and whispering. The lasses were clearly urging Lis to approach Sigrid at the honour table, and Lis was equally clearly quite reluctant to do so. He leaned in to whisper in Sigrid's ear.
"I think the lasses there want to speak to you, love."
Sigrid looked up. The lasses nudged Lis and whispered all the more as they saw Sigrid look at them.
"It can't be our research, Lis would keep that confidential. I wonder what it is?" she murmured. She smiled at Fili as she rose from her chair. "Best I go and find out." Fili watched her go, smiling at her retreating back and taking a moment to appreciate the way her dress clung to the curves of her hips and swayed as she walked. He watched as Lis introduced Sigrid to her friends, and then turned back to the others at the honour table.
Marni was berating her father in a heated undertone about his lack of respect for protocol, while Madlen tried to calm her down. Dain seemed unconcerned by the tirade, and Fili guessed it was probably not the first time Marni had given him such a lecture. Nyrath, on the other hand, was leaning back lazily in his chair, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the group of Lis and her friends, where Sigrid was talking animatedly. He looked up as Fili pulled up a chair next to him, and quickly sat up straighter in his chair.
"Fili. How were the smelters?" he asked.
"Impressive," Fili replied. "I picked up some billets for a pair of hunting knives. The quality is outstanding."
Nyrath grunted his assent, and his eyes returned to the crowd. Away from the lasses, Fili noted.
"Sigrid didn't go with you?" Nyrath said.
"No, she had a couple of things to do today. Listen, Nyrath, I want to talk about that lad I sent to you. His brother is one of the thieves Nib caught, out at the Pick and Shovel."
Nyrath sniffed and directed his gaze back to Fili. "I don't know why you bother with such people, Fili. They're beneath you."
Fili frowned. "I don't think anyone's beneath me, Nyrath. The lad seems a good sort, on first acquaintance anyway. Regardless, though, he's entitled to see his brother. I'll accompany him if you have any concerns about it."
Nyrath nodded, his eyes drifting once again to the crowd. "Of course, Fili. Whatever you think best."
Fili studied Nyrath for a moment, a crease between his brows. Then he stirred. "Good. I'll take care of that tomorrow. Thanks Nyrath." A moment later, Sigrid returned to the honour table, her eyes bright.
"Hello, Nyrath. Fili, you'll never guess. I've been invited to a Bride's Night tomorrow night."
Beside him, Fili felt Nyrath prick up his ears. "That wouldn't be Onar's betrothed, would it? I know he's asked for leave," he said in his deep voice. "What's her name?"
"Jorunn," Sigrid replied. "They'll be wedded at the feast. Isn't that romantic?"
"Very," Fili said, with a smile for her starry eyes and sentimental heart. He moved around the table and took Sigrid's arm in his to return to their chamber, with a nod to Nyrath, who nodded back, his head held high.