A/N: Oh my God, I am SO sorry! I literally have no excuse here, I just COMPLETELY lost track of time. I can't believe it's been ten days since I last updated...! Sorry about the wait, but, hopefully you won't hate me too much after reading the chapter... ;)

Big thanks to edwardilovebella and dipps for following/favouriting :)

Review Response(s):

Faron Oakenshield: I'm glad to hear you enjoyed it :)

sesshoumarucrazy: Aww, thanks, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! As for where it goes next... well.. ;)

Sparky She-Demon: Sparring matches are hard to write, but at the same time SO much fun :P Glad you enjoyed it :)

ro781727: Rimilde I haven't decided about yet, but I'm planning to have Alana and Cenric meet for a second time. We'll have to see where it goes, I guess. :)

Guest: Thorin and Alana's time together is severely limited, since they have to focus so much on running the kingdom. They have gotten into a few small arguments so far, but no big fights. There's a new story arc on the way though, that could change things... ;)

CheekyLittleFoxy: Haha, thanks, glad to hear it :D And you might do, or you might not... You'll have to wait and see... ;P


'Too many people miss the silver lining because they're expecting gold.' ~ Arthur Yorinks


Chapter 29:

Winter hit suddenly and did not go easy on the mountain city. The first snowfall came at the end of November, and turned quickly into a howling blizzard that did not let up for nearly a week. The great doors leading into the mountain were closed to stop the cold from coming into the dwarven kingdom as much as possible, but it was impossible to block it out completely. The royal seamstresses were working five days a week to sow together as many thick coats and blankets as possible, which were then distributed amongst the less fortunate of the citizens, who could not risk spending even a little gold on coats for themselves.

The cooks, too, were worked harder. Every other day, at lunch, the celebration hall was filled with freshly cooked food, available for anyone who wished it. Most who came were the same as those who received the coats - the nobility had enough money to pay for their own food, and they would turn their noses up at the thought of sharing a dinner table with the 'common rabble' of the mountain.

The particular dwarf Lord who said that spent the next ten minutes forced into a wide-eyed silence, listening to Alana chastise him at great length for his rudeness. Still, he was never seen in the hall with the others.

The great forges were always lit and burning as hot as they could, and special chambers were opened up so a large amount of their heat would filter up into the city above. Torches were more numerous along the corridors and bridges, not due to a lack of light, but for the additional warmth they provided.

They struggled through the winter, but they managed well under their rulers.

Alana grew to be particularly loved by the miners and servants (some of the more low-paid workers in the mountain), because she didn't overlook them. In fact, she cared more for them than the nobles who she surrounded herself with on a semi-daily basis. They were in charge of mining the gold and jewels that made Erebor so famous, and they were in charge of the upkeep of the royal quarters, keeping everything neat and tidy so that she and Thorin didn't have to worry about the small things. She believed them to be deserving of far more than they earned, and believed quite heartily that they, rather than the nobles, were the backbone of Erebor.

Without them, she was sure that the greatest dwarven kingdom in Middle Earth would simply fall apart.

The servants loved that she treated them with respect, that she thanked them and appreciated their efforts, and that she would be generous in giving them time off to see their families or do some of the things that they enjoyed. They loved that she was so modest - she still occasionally shuffled from foot to foot when she was addressed as 'my Queen' - and they loved that she never pretended they weren't there. She even made an effort to talk to them, to learn names and ask about them and their interests, and care enough to remember all that she was told. They were also convinced that it was because of her that their salary went up. It wasn't by much, but it made a difference.

The miners, on the other hand, loved that she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. Most of the time, when she visited the mines, she would be dressed in her Ranger garb instead of the fancy dresses she had to wear most of the time. They too loved that she treated them with respect, that she laughed and joked with them, that she treated them like equals. They loved her consistency - she would, every Friday afternoon, go down to the mines and see them. Often there was no real need for her to go, but she did it anyway. She was such a frequent visitor that Thorin handed all responsibility for the mines and miners over to her. Something she was only too happy to accept, and the miners were happy with the new arrangement as well. Many even came to know her so well that they would call her by her first name, more and more doing so when she didn't complain or protest, and even seemed relieved when one chose to look close enough.

Alana would also sometimes go to the city orphanage. The number of orphaned dwarves was mercifully low, but the six dwarflings without parents still tugged at her heartstrings. They were just so cute! She would visit every two weeks or so, and sit with them for hours on end reading them books, or telling them of her own adventures, and often teaching them to read and write, and to count. They too grew to adore her, and none of them cared about her status - they were more excited about having a new, friendly face to play with from time to time.

In short, while Thorin was forced to deal with the stuck-up nobles almost every hour of every day, Alana would split her time in half - she would spend half of it at her husband's side, supporting him and aiding him on the rare occasions when he was unable to sway the councilmen to his side; and she would spend the other half amongst her people, taking interest in their lives and slowly winning over the hearts of every dwarf she encountered.

In short, Alana grew to be a Queen loved dearly by the entire kingdom, nobles and commonfolk alike.

Such a life did not go without its drawbacks, though.

Alana greeted every day with enthusiasm and energy, but by the time she returned to bed she would be exhausted. Half the time she was so busy with her duties that she either forgot to eat, or had to be chased down by one of the chefs and have a plate shoved into her hands. There had been several times where she had stumbled upon standing, getting white spots in her eyes as the blood rushed suddenly from her head. And then there were those times where her exhaustion was just too much... She'd woken up on two occasions to find she had collapsed, and was looking up at the crowd surrounding her and seeming near-frantic with their concern.

It was understandable, then, that Thorin was growing more and more concerned for Alana's health. For the entire time he had known her, she had been strong and soldiered on, no matter what it was that ailed her. With these bouts of exhaustion, her general weakness, and not to mention the fact she had fainted twice in the last week... Unfortunately, he had every reason to be worried.

The worst was this morning. He had been rudely roused from his sleep when Alana bolted from the bed, heading straight for the bathroom and then throwing up violently into the wash basin. Thorin had rushed after her, pulling her hair out of the way and gently rubbing her back, easing her through the reappearance of last night's dinner. That had been the last straw for him, so with a face that brokered no arguments, he had ordered her to go and see Oin to determine what was wrong with her.

Erebor now had around a dozen dwarfish healers working in the healing house, but, for the company, the only healer they could ever see was Oin. The old dwarf was touched by their loyalty and faith in him, and never failed to bring out the best results. Thorin had even made him the official royal healer - the only one allowed to help the royal line, except under extreme or unavoidable circumstances.

Oin had recently set a strict rule that only he and his patients were allowed in the healing house while they were being examined. Wounds and injuries weren't uncommon, particularly with Fili and Kili, who were often a little too careless when sparring together. Oin always insisted on as much free space as possible when looking them over. Because of this, Thorin was forced to wait outside while Alana was checked over.

He lifted his head at the sound of footsteps, blinking when he saw the whole company heading towards him, with the addition of his sister walking alongside Fili and Kili.

"Bifur saw you and Alana heading for the healing house," Fili explained, seeing Thorin's perplexed expression. "He gathered us all here to see you." He glanced at the door. "Has she not come out yet?"

Thorin exhaled and shook his head. "No, she has not. I just hope it is not something serious." Dís chuckled, seemingly at ease with the whole situation. Thorin narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you have something you wish to share, sister?"

She grinned at him. "Oh, no, this is not my news to share."

Blinking, Thorin frowned. "You know what ails her?"

"I have my suspicions. Honestly, I'm surprised none of the rest of you recognise the signs."

There was a beat of silence as everyone pondered her words. It was broken by a sharp breath, and Thorin's head snapped up in time to see Gloin's eyes widen. "By Mahal," the dwarf breathed. He turned to Dís. "Do you really think...?"

Dís shrugged. "Well, it makes sense."

"I'm confused," Kili grumbled.

Fili huffed. "You're not the only one."

"Oh!" Bombur slapped his hand over his mouth at his exclamation, and then a look of utter delight spread across his face.

Thorin's brows furrowed further. He mentally ran through all the information he had available to him, trying to figure it out. Alana was showing signs of severe fatigue, unsteadiness, and now was throwing up as well. Yet Dís was calm, Gloin was surprised but not worried, and Bombur was practically glowing with joy. What could-?

"No..." he breathed, the revelation smacking him in the face. Everyone turned to face him, taking note of his stunned expression, his wide eyes. Thorin met his sister's gaze, noting the glee that glimmered behind the familiar brown irises. Thorin tried to stamp down the hope that reared its head in his chest, just in case it wasn't what he thought. "Dís... am I wrong? Is she...?"

Dís smiled gently. "I think she is."

"She's what?" Kili asked, still lost. But now realisation was dawning on some of the others, who let out their own exclamations of happiness and shock.

Then even Fili figured it out. His mouth dropped and his eyes widened, before he whirled on Thorin and beamed from ear to ear. Thorin met his grin with one of his own, and Fili let out a whoop and pulled his naive little brother into a joyous embrace.

"Still not getting it," Kili grunted, pushing his brother back. "Fili, Thorin... what's going on?"

"If I'm right..." Fili grinned again, his glee infectious as everyone who understood mirrored his expression. "If I'm right, then it won't be long before we have our first cousin."

Kili blinked. Blinked again. Then his eyes popped out from his skull. "Alana's pregnant?" he asked hopefully, turning to Thorin, who shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out," he muttered, still trying to fully digest the news. He found it to be an odd thought that he - after all his years in this land, after everything he'd seen and done - could still father a child. Both Fili and Kili were now into adulthood, and yet he could still remember a time when they could barely walk on their own two feet. It was odd to realise so much time had passed since he had last helped to raise a child, and yet he couldn't push down the warmth that rose in his chest at the thought. He adored his nephews, loved them like they were his own, but if Alana was pregnant... This child would be theirs. It would be half him and half her, and somehow that made it infinitely more precious to him. He couldn't bear to think that, now he had linked Alana's symptoms to a reason, he might have made a mistake. He couldn't bear to imagine having his hopes crushed so brutally.

So when Oin stepped out of the healing houses with a grim face, Thorin was thoroughly unprepared for the way his heart splintered just a little. He stepped forward, a questioning gleam to his eyes, and Oin understood what he was asking without a word being spoken.

The old healer tilted his head back towards the door. "I think you should speak to her, Thorin. She needs you right now."

Thorin's stomach dropped through the floor. There was a moment of utter stillness and silence as everyone became painfully aware that perhaps they were wrong. That they had gotten their hopes up, only to have them shattered by the truth. Glancing over at his suddenly very pale sister, whose eyes were wide with pain and horror, Thorin swallowed thickly and then walked into the healing house.

Alana was alone in there, sat on the edge of the cot with her head down, her hair loose around her shoulders and hiding her face. Upon closer inspection, Thorin realised with a thrill of worry that her hands were gripping the edge of the cot tight enough to draw the blood away from her knuckles. He found himself endlessly grateful that there was no one else in the room, knowing this was something they would both hate talking about with other people there - whatever it was they had to talk about, anyway.

Thorin stopped in front of her, frowning deeper when she didn't even seem to register his arrival; not reacting even when he lifted his hands to gently tilt her head up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide but empty; blank in a way that he knew could only mean she hadn't yet returned from her own mind. The expression on her face was unreadable - it displayed so many varying emotions that Thorin failed to pinpoint even one of them. Whatever was happening, it had put Alana in a state of deep shock.

With a long exhale, Thorin adjusted their positions so her forehead could rest on his. He watched her as she continued to think, running his fingers through her hair, carefully smoothing out the knots that were there. He didn't know how long they remained that way - it could have been a minute, or an hour, or a day - but eventually Alana's eyes cleared, and she became aware of his presence. Blinking, those beautiful blue irises met his with a hesitancy that surprised him.

His hand moved to cup her cheek, and he let a tiny smile creep over his face when she instantly turned her face into his palm. "What is it, Alana?" he asked quietly, not bothering to hide his concern when her eyes skipped back to his. "What ails you?"

Alana sighed, averting her gaze. "I'm okay," she whispered. "I'm exhausted, but I'm healthy. I'm just... scared."

"Of what?"

She looked up again, biting her bottom lip. "Don't you know?"

Thorin shook his head. "Oin didn't say."

Alana exhaled slowly, steeling herself, before she revealed that they had been right, all along. "I'm with child, Thorin."

He didn't know how to react. That hope and joy flared in his chest again, burning like a flame that refused to die down, but there was something about this that also caused fear to grow in his breast. Such news should have been joyous - it should have caused a new light to flare in her, too. Why, then, was she so scared? Did she not wish to have his child?

"What are you not telling me?" he inquired at length, his scrutinising gaze catching Alana's infinitesimal wince.

"I could... I might..." She sighed, closing her eyes again. "I might not be able to carry the child to full term," she said at last. Thorin's frown deepened, but he was silent, allowing her to continue. "Oin said that... that many dwarrowdams struggle to birth a child - that the labour process puts an awful lot of strain on their bodies. They often cannot cope. But I am not a dwarrowdam, and thus my body is more fragile. It is also carrying a child whose father is not of the race of men, so... There's a good chance that we will lose the baby. And even if I make it to giving birth, the strain of it has... a very high chance of killing one or both of us." Alana finally met his eyes, her own wet with tears, while Thorin's face had grown ashen. His eyes, though, were warm, loving, confident, and he looked upon her with such faith that her tears overwhelmed her, flowing freely down her cheeks.

Thorin stepped closer to her, settling himself between her legs and then pulling her into his arms. Alana returned the embrace tightly, momentarily forcing the air from his lungs, before he got used to the pressure and instead allowed her to bury her face in his hair. "There have been many things," he began slowly, "that have had a high chance of taking you away from me. You have survived them all, and come back even stronger." He pushed her back tenderly, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "I have faith that this time will be no different."

"I'm scared," she admittedly weakly. "So scared. So much could go wrong, and-"

Thorin cut her off by pressing his finger to her lips. Alana's wide eyes fell on his again, pleading for him to find a way to ease her worries. He gave it the best that he had. "Do not doubt the strength you have in you. Nor the strength of our child, even so young." He pressed his free hand to the flatness of her stomach, feeling a foreign firmness that only highlighted the truth of the situation. "You possess the blood of Kings, so strong that they have lived nearly a thousand years beyond the belief of the rest of the world. Now, so does our child. And in its veins also flows the blood of my line; descendants of Durin the Deathless himself. Through all that has been thrown into the paths of both our families, they have endured. Now they are forever entwined, in the life of the one who lies beneath your heart." Thorin smiled warmly at her, noting that Alana was beginning to gain hope and happiness with his words. "Our child will be the strongest and hardiest of us all. And we will both keep him safe, even if and when he no longer needs us to."

Alana let a sliver of a smile creep onto her face. "He?"

Thorin's face became sheepish, though he did not deny his words. "A feeling," he answered at last. "Though I would be thrilled to have a little girl as well, I think that, this time, we are having a son."

Alana released a breathy laugh, most of her previous fear having disappeared. "'This time'?" she echoed. "Don't tell me you are planning for a second child already."

Thorin chuckled. "You think I haven't thought about it?" he challenged, cocking an eyebrow. "I know that you have. Your various conversations with my sister are not as secret as you might think."

Alana pouted. "Well now, that's just not fair. I don't know what things you talk about with her."

"Do you ask?"

"Do you?"

"Of course - how else would I have found out that you wish to have three children to carry on our lines?"

Alana looked utterly mortified, while Thorin's face was inexplicably smug. "Oh, I am definitely going to kill her." Alana jumped off the cot, moving towards the door, when Thorin caught hold of her hand.

He drew her closer again, encompassing her hand in his completely. "Are you alright now?" he asked.

Her face softened, and she nodded. "I am. Thanks to you."

Thorin nodded. "Good. Do not be embarrassed or afraid to come to me with your concerns; know that I will always have time to listen to you. This, I promise."

"Likewise," she murmured, pressing her lips to his, before pulling back suddenly. "How many people are waiting outside?"

Thorin chuckled. "The whole company, and my sister, of course. Perhaps there may be more now, who appeared after I came inside. I don't know."

"Maybe they gave up and left," Alana muttered, sounding almost hopeful.

Thorin, however, just snorted. "If you believe that, then you have not learnt much of the stubbornness of dwarves."

"Hey, don't squash my hopes and dreams, sunshine." She grinned at him when he cocked an eyebrow at her peculiar choice of nickname, but otherwise neither reacted. Instead, they headed for the door, Alana pausing with her hand hovering above the latch. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted slowly.

Thorin smiled comfortingly and placed a hand on the small of her back. "They all suspect already," he told her. "You'll just be confirming what they believe."

"But do we tell them about the dangers?"

Thorin hesitated. "No," he decided at last. "Not straight away. There's no need to ruin the moment."

Alana chuckled. "Why do I get the feeling some of them might actually be happier about this than we are?"

Smiling in return, Thorin shook his head. "I think, in my case at least, that's not possible."

Alana's eyes softened, and she turned away from the door to place a soft kiss on his lips. "Me too," she whispered, then added, "though I reckon one or two of them might get close."

He considered for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose you are right," he said at last. He offered her his elbow, his soft smile back in place. "Shall we?"

Without a word, Alana slid her arm into his, and the two of them left the healing house. The company were waiting with eager and anxious expressions.

Thorin exhaled for a moment, mentally preparing himself from the chaos that was about to unfold, before announcing, "We were right. Alana's pregnant."