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And now to the King and the Dwarven warrior! :)

Love,

Katya Kolmakov


The woman was not present at the midday meal. Neither did she come down for the supper. The Hobbit volunteered to bring her food up to her attic, and stayed there suspiciously long. When he came down, he threw Thorin such an obvious disapproving look that Thorin finished his meal before others and stepped outside - to smoke and think.

The evening was fresh, and Thorin stretched his legs, leaning back on the wall of the wood shed he was sitting behind, on a large log. Fireflies danced in the grass in front of him. He sighed deeply, trying to push uneasy thoughts at the back of his mind, and failing.

He had lost control. He still could not understand how it happened, but he did. All these last moons he had been so successful in suppressing his feelings towards her, and then one awkward situation, one moment of proximity, and all his praised reserve was gone! She was so beautiful, her eyes wide open, lips red, and it almost ended in a disaster!

He realised he was gritting his teeth to the mouthpiece of his favourite pipe, and in irritation he jerked it out of his mouth. Save Mahal, he was acting like the last idiot!

The Man's words echoed in his ears. Is it your Dwarf, elanor? The one you were pining for all those years ago? So, ten years ago her heart was not free. She had also mentioned a man from a hundred seventy years before in her conversation with the Hobbit. Who was that man, Thorin asked himself. He had not met her then, in the last days of Erebor, but if her sister promised herself to him, Werna could have found love then as well. On the other hand, she seemed to have given the Halfling's preposterous proposition a thought, and she was too noble to betray an existing association, if there were any.

Thorin utterly disliked being confused. He would prefer to know, and to know with all possible clarity, whether indeed the woman had feelings for him, whether he indeed had seen desire in her eyes there by the stream, and why, in Mahal's name, she ran when he almost kissed her.

The question he was asking himself was whether he had completely misread her behaviour. That would tell him how much of a calamity the situation now was. Thorin, with all his favourite orderliness, reviewed what was known to him. She had come to him, and as she explained, a courtship was to be discussed. Was she intending to propose one to him? It would sure be a bold motion, but if she had perhaps guessed his desire for her, it would be logical. And he did desire her. It was time to admit it. Everything about her enthralled him. Her lively character, her capabilities, her alluring physique… Thorin hastily started stuffing his pipe with the new portion of the weed, trying to rid himself of the thoughts of her round hips, and her heaving chest, but the memories of the ivory skin peeking in the low collar of her tunic, just a few hours ago, stubbornly filled his head.

He puffed out the first ring of smoke and brought his mind back onto the situation at hand. Perhaps, he felt suddenly hopeful, it was much simpler. Perhaps, she did return his affection, but felt it was inappropriate for them to express it outside courtship. She was after all a noble and honourable Khuzd.

And she of course was right. A woman of her standing could not be pursued in such an indecorous manner. Proper respect was to be shown to her. There were customs to be followed, gifts to be given, braids to appear in the hair, for everyone to see… and he could not do either.

Broken off, or not, his former betrothal was an obligation that he had taken upon himself, and as if to confirm to him the error in pursuing Werna, it was none other but her sister he had exchanged letters and gifts for so many years!

And then some stubbornness rose in him. Aye, he had been betrothed to Dania, but she had accepted his declination. And indeed, it was Mahal's quite cruel joke to give his heart to her sister, but such was the truth.

Thorin nodded to his own thoughts. Aye, his affection for Werna, daughter of Lyr, was now an indubitable truth. He searched his mind and had to concede that he was now adamant to seek the answer to whether his love was returned.

Pacified by this certainty, he stretched his legs again, and enjoyed his pipe. Now that the decision was made he only had to decide what was the best way to proceed.


The next morning, Thorin woke up just after dawn. The house was still asleep, and he rose, threw his coat over his shoulders, and was going to step outside, when he heard the woman stomp in the attic.

Seeing this as a fortunate chance, Thorin quickly slipped out of the hall the company slept in, and walked up the stairs to the attic. He gave the door a quiet knock, and after a pause she let him in.

She stood in the middle of the room, in an awkward, half finished pose, having probably stopped whatever she was doing. Her garments, made to her by Bombur and Bifur out of the fabric given by the Skinchanger, were spread on the bed, and he saw a clothes brush in her hand.

"Morning," she mumbled, and twirled the brush.

"Morning," he answered, and gave her a pleased look over. Her cheeks rosy, she looked so fresh and alluring! "How are you faring?"

"Much better, thank you. I have rested." She was still not meeting his eyes, and Thorin decided it was best to just speak directly to solve this aggravation as soon as possible.

"Shall we sit, Werna? I have matters to discuss with you." She nodded, and walked to her bed, which was the only seat available in the room. She hastily moved her coat, and they sat.

Her eyes were dropped at the brush in her left hand, and he could see a soft cheek and a small burning ear. Thorin looked at her right arm. It was still held under an awkward angle, but he could see it was healing well. The fingers moved, and she splayed her small hand on her knee.

"Werna, I came to confess my affection for you," Thorin pronounced in an even tone, and she whipped her head and stared at him with widened eyes. He had expected this reaction. "I have found myself enthralled by you. It is not a fleeting fascination. And if you have me, I offer you my heart and my loyalty in courtship."

"But..." she breathed out, and then bit into her bottom lip, clearly swallowing the first words that were going to fall off her lips. That was not a reaction he expected. He hoped to see her happy, enamoured, and perhaps a bit relieved, now that the tension between them was addressed, and yesterday's incident was to be clarified. Alternatively, she could reject him now, which would mean he had just turned this quest into an awkward torturous journey that could not end more quickly.

Her nose twitched, and her lips were moving silently as if she were arguing with herself. It was confusing and made something unpleasantly clench in his stomach.

"Werna? You are expected to give me an answer, but if you need more time to consider it..." he started, but she jerked out of her frantic yet silent muttering, and grabbed his hand with her left one.

"No, no I do not need more time! I just..." Their eyes met, and she searched his face. He did not know what she tried to see there, but then she smiled to him widely. "I accept! I accept you, Thorin!"

Thorin was almost ready to unseemingly exhale in relief, when she shifted closer to him, and all he could think of was that now he finally had every right to kiss her. The thought was simple and so very sweet.

So were her lips. He leaned in, and she lifted her face meeting him halfway. Her left hand already in his, he squeezed her fingers and pulled her even closer. Still remembering to be careful with her right side, he pushed the fingers of his left hand into her hair. It was slightly wet, perhaps she had just washed it, and he savoured the heavy silk run between his digits.

She inhaled deeply, drawing his breath in, and then her lips opened, and he lost himself in the kiss. Desire for more was rising, and he wrapped his arm around her. She readily answered, her arm going around his neck, and her body arched into his.

She felt taunt, and limber, and her caresses were energetic and enthusiastic. Her small hands slid first onto his jaw, then to the ears, and then a little rough palm pressed to the side of his neck. When her fingers danced down and she splayed her hand on his chest, slightly scraping in some sort of a feline gesture, he heard a small purr like noise she was making. Werna, daughter of Lyr was clearly no timid dove, as they say, and was obviously enjoying the sensual side of their new association. It was of course expected, she was of Khazad after all, but the ease and some sort of merry vigour of a grown up woman in his arms was more than pleasing.

"You are distracted, my lord," she murmured in his ear, and he chuckled. "Has our tryst bored you already?"

He shifted and met her laughing eyes. He cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb to the corner of her red lips. She tilted her head, pressing her temple and cheekbone to his palm.

"Werna, I have a… favour to ask. Or more precisely, a consideration to share." She gave him a warm look, and he sighed. He had hoped she would accept him, but he also could not forget all the reasons why he had thought this association were not to be pursued in the first place. "I do not wish to insult you, but..." Words stuck in his throat, and he was already prepared to never speak them, when she smiled to him somewhat melancholically.

"You wish our courtship to remain secret," she spoke, and he studied her face trying to determine her opinion on the suggestion. "I agree." Her tone was even, but some sort of unpleasant doubt stirred in him. He pushed it at the back of his mind. "We are in the middle of a quest. And it is no time for dalliances. And…" She was intending to say something else, but then just shook her head. "We will wait till Erebor is returned. Then we will discuss the formal part of it..." she was speaking pensively, not even addressing him, and then she finally focused her mesmerizing, fire opal eyes on him. The corners of her curved lips twitched. "We are not younglings, Thorin. I am certain we will be able to behave just as before. It is not as if we will run into shrubbery for foolish busses..."

Thorin pushed his hand into the thick copper hair at the back of her head and pulled her into a fervent kiss. He had little experience in flirting, but if it were how it was done, then Werna, daughter of Lyr had surely mastered the art of seduction.


About half an hour later he found himself on her bed, their legs intertwined, hair tussled, hands wandering, and his straying quite often to the full and enticing breasts he had so fortunately discovered under the thin tunic quite quickly after they toppled on the covers.

"We are not behaving like two hundred year olds are to behave..." he rasped out, and she snorted. Her hand was on his side, under the bunched up tunic, and she tickled him, making him squirm.

"I am not that old, my lord..." She giggled, and then pushed her nose under his jaw. "They will say you are an old oxe eating the young grass." He looked down at her, and saw her merrily squinted eyes, the freckled nose, and he felt so light-hearted and content that some uncharacteristic mischief woke up in him, and he rolled her underneath him and gently bit into the ivory skin of her shoulder, where the tunic had slid off. She made an endearing croak like noise.

And then her strong legs wrapped around his waist, making his whole body jolt. She twisted, and there he was, underneath a very smug looking Dwarven maiden.

"And on this point, my lord..." she spoke in a low impish voice. "How do you think a pair of two hundred year olds is to behave in the situation of a secret liaison? Should we solemnly look at each other and discuss the contract that we might utilise when we enter the official courtship some time in the observable future?"

He decided to give her a direct and honest answer, so his hands lay on her buttocks, and he squeezed.

"That is exactly what I thought..." she murmured, leaned in, and caught his mouth.