A/N: Greetings all...! I'm still loving how torn you are by the Alana/Thorin conflict, and you're all making very valid points :) Hopefully this chapter will clear up a few queries you have...

Big thanks to the following people for following/favouriting: anyway20, Lone-Wolf-Ranger and pinkiceangelbaby.

Review Response(s):

Sparky She-Demon: She'll get there eventually, but you can't blame her for relying on her instincts in a situation like that :P

RainAstiel: I always considered Bofur to be very optimistic, and any insults from his mouth would be the teasing/good-natured kind. Still, guess you'll have to find out :) As for Alana and Thorin, they were both in a rather stressful situation, so they were allowed to overreact ;)

animexchick: Alana'll be fine, I promise ;)

CheekyLittleFoxy: Don't we all... *sigh* ;P

'Like fragile ice anger passes away in time.' ~ Ovid

Chapter 36:

Alana had remained furious at Thorin for two days, pushing her new mount hard as they raced through the green lands in and around the kingdom of Gondor. On the night of the second day, however, as she camped on the banks of the Anduin, her anger seemed to dissipate.

From her spot, she could just about make out the shadow of Cair Andros, residing both south and east of her position. She didn't know exactly what it was that cooled her anger, but perhaps being in a familiar place was one of the reasons.

Alana had visited Minas Tirith only once before, but she had travelled through Ithilien almost half a dozen times. The Rangers of these lands and the Rangers of the north did not often interact with one another, if for no other reason than they lived half a world apart, but Alana had always had a greater desire for travel than many of her kin. Curiosity was what had driven her to seek out the Rangers of Ithilien the first time, and the four successive visits beyond that were to meet with friends and to learn more about them. Though the two groups' purpose was much the same, the fighting styles they adopted could often be quite different. On her previous visits, Alana had imparted some of her knowledge in exchange for some of theirs.

Alana didn't sleep much that night, locked as she was in feelings of despair and guilt. She felt terrible for what she'd said to Thorin, and even more so about the fact that she had so easily left the group without looking back. Every moment that passed, she could feel her heart tugging back, trying to reunite with its other half. But turning back now was nonsensical, and she knew Thorin had a point - she needed to take care of her baby, and she would be safest in Minas Tirith, behind its walls. When she reached the city, she decided, she would write a letter to Thorin, apologising for her words, and telling him she was safe. Because that was all he ever wanted - her safety. She'd jeopardised that, and he had reacted to it. Though she in no way regretted her actions in pushing Rogvi out of the way, she knew that he, too, had been right.

When dawn sent an array of bright colours through the sky, Alana packed up her camp, swallowed down a chunk of stale bread and fish, before she mounted her horse again. The mearas that had answered her call was not Firebrand, and she had lamented that for a moment. But Firebrand had a family to take care of now, and was still likely in the lands surrounding Erebor. The horse that had met her was a piebald mare with a black mane and tail. She was more mischievous than Firebrand, often dancing on her hooves or, when Alana was not on her back, frisking in the grass or rolling around in it. Alana was sure that, one day, her behaviour might be a cause for annoyance, but was grateful that, so far, it had just made her laugh.

Only an hour after they set off, the sky began to fill with purple-grey clouds, and it wasn't long before heavy rain began to fall. The horse seemed completely unaffected by the weather, but Alana was more than a little irritated by it. With a huff, she yanked up the hood of her cloak, and bowed her head in attempt to shield her face.

As the afternoon passed, they drew nearer to their destination. The mare was hesitant to follow Alana's request for her to slow down as they started to approach Henneth Annûn, the hidden settlement of the Ithilien Rangers. Still, when Alana gave her another firm prod, the horse finally stopped her eager gallop, transitioning to a more sedate pace.

The pathway up to Henneth Annûn was narrow, and her mare crept along it with care, her footing sure but slow. Alana allowed a smile to cross her lips as she looked around the familiar rocks and trees, the trickle of water much quieter here than it had been by the river, even with the heavy downpour.

At length, Alana reached one of the several entrances to the cave system that was Henneth Annûn, and dismounted from her horse. She gave her mount a gentle push in the direction they had come from, knowing she was now close enough to Minas Tirith that the journey would be easy enough to take on foot. She watched the mare go, before she turned and entered the cave.

As with all her other visits here, she was quickly surrounded by suspicious men who reacted instinctively by perceiving her to be a threat.

The leader approached her with a stern frown, his face covered by his hood. "It is forbidden for strangers to trespass in these lands. Who are you, and what do you want?"

Alana scoffed, raising her arms to lower her hood. Around her, the men tensed, but did not attack. Alana shook out her damp hair, then smiled at the man in front of her, whose eyes now shone with recognition. "Well," she said with a smile, "I suppose it is a good thing I'm not a stranger then, isn't it, Malhind?"

The Captain chuckled. "Lower your weapons," he ordered his men. "There is no danger here." With some showing hesitance, the Rangers did so, before moving away to continue with whatever they'd been doing before Alana's arrival. Malhind grinned and bowed to Alana, his hand over his heart. She copied the movement. "It's been a few years since our last encounter, my friend," he said, leading the way into the caves. Alana followed without hesitation.

"Well, I've been busy," Alana replied with a laugh.

Malhind smiled. "And how is the north these days?"

"As far as I know, it's fine," she answered. "It has been a long time since I was back there, though. Almost two years, in fact."

Malhind frowned. "Why the long absence?"

Alana smirked, feeling almost pleased to be able to say what she was about to. "I got married."

Eyebrows rising, Malhind said with a grin, "Congratulations, my Lady." He paused. "Though that doesn't really answer my question."

Laughing, Alana told him, "It does, actually. It explains everything."

"I don't follow, I'm afraid."

"Then you haven't been paying enough attention to the news of the world, Captain," said another man, whom Alana also knew.

Alana grinned. "Pleasure to see you again, Thandir."

He grinned. "And you as well, my Lady." He bowed, before a grin flickered into place. "Or is that no longer the appropriate form of address?"

Alana rolled her eyes. "You know as well as I that it's fine."

Beside them, Malhind was watching their interaction with blatant confusion. Thandir turned to his Captain, and announced with great flourish, "The Lady Alana is now better known as the new Queen Under the Mountain. Her husband is none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself."

Malhind's eyebrows more or less disappeared into his hairline. Then, he let out a low chuckle. "I suppose the reason for your absence from Eriador makes more sense now."

Laughing, Alana pointed out, "I did tell you that my marriage had everything to do with that."

"Indeed you did." The Captain turned to Thandir and cocked an eyebrow. Making a show of great reluctance, Thandir turned and went back to his work. Rolling his eyes, Malhind returned his attention to Alana. "So, what is it that brings you this far south? Given your new station, I'd imagine it's official business."

Alana nodded. "The Steward invited Thorin and I down here for a visit, now that trade has picked up between our kingdoms. Thorin believes the Steward may also have a request to make; one which requires dwarven craftsmanship."

Malhind frowned. "But... you are alone. Did your husband not accompany you?"

"No, he did," Alana said, flushing slightly. "We, umm... had a quarrel a few days ago and so I... left. Travelled ahead."

Malhind chuckled. "And where are your group now?"

Alana mentally calculated the answer. "Probably about four days north of the Argonath, if they've made good progress."

Malhind blinked. "When was it that you parted ways with them?"

"Three days ago."

He stared at her for a long time, before slowly asking, "How did you manage to travel so far in so short a time? No horse would be able to travel that distance so fast."

Alana rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, it's a bit a long tale, but in short, I am in possession of something which can call members of the mearas to my aid. As you know, they can gallop much, much faster than an ordinary horse."

"You came here riding a mearas?" Malhind's tone had deadened completely, to one of near-disbelief.

Alana sighed, nodding. "Yeah, I did. She'll probably still be nearby, if you want proof. I only sent her away a few minutes ago."

The Captain shook his head. "No need, I believe you. Strange as it is." He sighed, before shaking his head in what was likely an attempt to clear it. He smiled at her again. "Now, I'd imagine it's been some time since you indulged in such things, so would you care for a drink, my Lady?"

Alana shook her head. "As much as I'd love to, I can't drink alcohol right now."

Malhind cocked an eyebrow. "You can't? That's a strange choice of words. Are you sure-?" He cut himself off, his lips and eyes thinning. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

Laughing, Alana teased, "Well, that would depend entirely on what you think I'm suggesting, wouldn't it? If you think I'm suggesting that I'm pregnant, you would be right. I am."

"You came all the way to Gondor from the Lonely Mountain, despite knowing you were pregnant?" There was a frown on his face again. "Are you sure that was the best idea?"

Rolling her eyes, Alana grumbled, "You're beginning to sound like my husband." She released a sigh through her nose, trying to rein in her impatience. "Dwarven pregnancies last twelve months," she explained. "It's a two month journey between Erebor and Minas Tirith. Even assuming we stay in Gondor for a whole month - which is quite unlikely - I'll still only be about seven months pregnant by the time we get home. That gives me a further five months before the baby arrives. I'll be fine. Besides, this is our first invitation to Gondor - I wasn't about to turn it down. How would that look?"

"Like you're an expecting mother," came the bland reply. "I'm sure the Steward would let you off."

Alana rolled her eyes again. "Now you're really starting to sound like Thorin."

"Has it occurred to you that the King might be onto something?"

"Of course it has," Alana shot back. "But, let's be frank, I'm here now. There's not a lot of point in me turning around and going home anymore, is there?"

He sighed. "No, I suppose not. Just be careful."

"Seriously," Alana groaned, "I get enough of this from my husband. It's one of the reasons we got into our fight! Please stop."

Malhind held his hands up in a sign of surrender. "Alright, I won't say another word about it. Upon my honour. Just keep it in mind, okay? Keeping you in prime health has never been more important."

Alana glanced over at him. "Do you have any children?" she asked.

With a fond smile, Malhind nodded. "Aye, two so far. Two girls. We are... trying for a third, actually."

Alana bumped him with her shoulder, smiling. "Congratulations. Any preference for gender?"

"Well, considering I've got two daughters so far, a son would be nice," he said with a laugh. "Perhaps then I'll feel more comfortable about what I can teach him. Still, I wouldn't complain if we had another girl."

With a hint of a smirk on her lips, Alana teased, "Just think of all the hopeful suitors you're going to be beating off with a stick when they come of age."

Malhind rolled his eyes. "And what about you? Boy or girl?"

Alana shrugged. "Like you, I wouldn't complain either way. Thorin is ridiculously confident it's a boy, though. It must be said, the odds are in his favour - even taking my blood into account, the chances of a dwarven child being a boy is two out of three. So a boy is more likely." She chuckled. "I have to admit though, part of me wants it to be a girl, just so he's proven wrong."

Chuckling, Malhind asked her, "Do you truly take such pleasure in that?"

"Are you kidding? I practically live for it."

Laughing again, Malhind shook his head, before apologetically informing her that he had to return to his duties. Alana waved him off, reminding him that she knew her way around the place at this point. He nodded, gave her a cordial bow, and then left her alone.

Alana made her way deeper into the caves, until she came across the centrepiece of Henneth Annûn - the Window-curtain. For many, this was the entrance to Henneth Annûn, but Alana herself had only entered by this way once. This route into the caves would certainly have been unsuitable for her horse.

The cavern in which she was standing was formed of a smoother stone than much of the rest of the cave system, and was taller and wider than the other pathways, too. Alana approached the Window-curtain with a hidden glee, marvelling at the sight of what many Gondorians considered to be the grandest of all waterfalls in the west. In the evening sunlight, the water glistened like fire, or like hundreds of tiny rubies. With a small smile on her face, Alana lifted her hand and let the water fall onto her palm. It was cold, but Alana didn't mind. Though she loved Erebor with all her heart, she nonetheless was grateful for this chance to reconnect with nature. The past month had passed without many chances to pause and admire the natural world around her, and in way, it felt nice to be back in the company of those who appreciated the world's wonders the same way that she did.

She removed her hand after it began to grow numb, then wiped it dry on her cloak. She looked around again at her surroundings, and found herself wondering how Thorin and the others were faring on their journey. She hoped they were all alright.

The last few days, they had travelled in absolute silence. No one dared to break it. After Alana's unexpected departure, there had been a distinct shift in the dynamic of their group. The previous light-heartedness just seemed to bleed out from each of them, as if Alana had been the main reason they had - so far - remained happy. Thorin's dour mood didn't help.

He didn't hold onto his anger for very long after Alana left; it was like he figured it wasn't worth the effort to do so anymore. Instead he became withdrawn and quiet, not even bothering to talk to Dwalin. A permanent black cloud floated over his head. Makaylen wasn't sure what exactly it was that caused him to look so downtrodden; whether it was Alana's absence or the fact that their last conversation had been a fight (probably a bit of both). No matter the cause, she sincerely hoped it wouldn't last, as it was having an adverse effect on the rest of them.

Still, they kept travelling on as if nothing had changed, though they all knew that it had. Makaylen had spent long enough with Alana by her side every day that her absence was not only strange, but left her feeling twitchy as well. Being the personal bodyguard of the Queen of Erebor was no small honour, and the fact that she couldn't now perform her duty left her feeling weird. Like she had somehow let Alana down. It wasn't that she hadn't offered to go with her - quite the opposite - but it was the fact that, despite knowing Alana was perfectly capable of looking after herself, Makaylen still worried. In her eyes, the Queen wasn't just her Queen; she was her friend, too.

The group was startled out of whatever had consumed each of their thoughts by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Though Makaylen instinctively reached for her weapon, Thorin raised a hand to stop her. Confused, Makaylen hesitantly lowered her hand, though she didn't dare relax completely.

Across the river, the western shore was bare of trees, though the land was hilly and so they couldn't see further than quarter of a mile or so beyond the river bank. As the thundering of horse hooves grew louder, a dark shadow appeared on the crest of one of the hills, and Makaylen's eyes widened as the shadow became gradually clearer. A party of no fewer than twelve horses were approaching the river, the leader of the group directing his followers towards the dwarves. The river was narrow at this point, it being one of its many meanders, and with the stone beach on the inside of the curve it was no more than five metres wide.

Despite muttered warnings from half of the group, Thorin separated from them and stood on the river bank. As the riders drew closer, their group mirrored this. While Thorin remained stood on the grass, the leader of the riders urged his horse towards the river, dismounting from his mount at the edge of the water. Then, with certain steps, he moved onto the stone beach on the other side.

The man before them - who was blatantly a member of King Fengel's éored, like all the men in his company - took off his helmet, and tucked it under his arm. His blonde hair was wild and windswept, and his beard was unkempt. There was dirt smattering his clothing and even his face, and his eyes were stern, but not unfriendly.

"Well met, travellers," the man said, though it was clear he was mainly addressing Thorin. "It has been many a year since we've had dwarves passing so close to our borders."

Thorin gave a noncommittal hum. "It has been far longer than all the years of your life since any dwarf last travelled this far west, I'm sure."

"I mean no disrespect, but I'm required to ask of your business in these lands, and to perceive whether you are a threat."

Thorin raised a hand without looking back, silencing Dwalin's retort before he had chance to voice it - Thorin knew his friend's defensiveness well, and knew that it was unnecessary in this instance. Still, he couldn't stop the amused quirk of his lips at the sound of Dwalin's disgruntled huff. "We are an envoy from Erebor, journeying to Minas Tirith at the invitation of the Steward."

One of the horses in the group behind the man stirred, and Thorin wondered vaguely if the group could hear him. The leader of the men cocked an eyebrow. "This is a dangerous route to be travelling, my Lord. There are many safer routes-"

"All of which take us many leagues further east than the one we now walk," Thorin cut in, narrowing his eyes as the horse he'd spotted moving earlier broke away from the group, approaching the river. "Our journey would be extended by weeks. The company that travels alongside me are all fine warriors. Whatever safety we would find on the longer routes was not worth losing precious time when we are as equipped as we are for facing dangers."

The curious horseman was now only feet behind his Captain, who turned his head with a frown. "What is it, Cenric?"

The form of this man was familiar, and his response made Thorin crack an amused smirk for the first time in days. "Forgive me, Captain, but I couldn't overlook this chance. I have met this fine dwarf before you see, though admittedly the last time we saw each other I ended up with a blade pointed at my throat." He grinned crookedly, dismounted, and then addressed Thorin directly. "A fine day to you, my Lord. I didn't think to see you again so soon."

"Nor I you," Thorin replied. "Alana will be sorry to have missed the chance to see you again, I'm sure."

Cenric hummed. "I was going to ask about her absence. 'Tis a shame, I was greatly anticipating our next meeting."

"She rode ahead of our party three days ago." Thorin paused for a moment. "Perhaps, if we are not otherwise pressed for time, we will be able to visit Rohan on our return journey. As long as our presence is not unwanted."

Grinning, Cenric told him, "Well, I for one would be delighted to welcome you back. I'm sure the King will also have no objections. Your lovely wife has become rather famous since my return from Erebor." He chuckled. "I made sure that the name Cwenhild became well-known."

Thorin was not unaware of the startled realisation in the Captain's eyes at this news. "I'm sure she will be glad to hear that," he said. He faced the Captain again, tilting his head to the side. "If you are satisfied with the answers we provided to your queries, we will be on our way."

Slowly, the Captain nodded. "All is well, my Lord," he assured them slowly. "We will not keep you any longer."

Thorin gave a vague nod, before he turned back to the others and they moved on without another word. They had walked no more than a few steps before the sounds of retreating horse hooves met their ears, and Thorin cast one last glance their way. They were riding back to the main group, and he knew it wouldn't be long before they were gone for good.

Satisfied, Thorin moved his eyes back to the path ahead, and he resolutely marched forward, the others following in his wake.