A/N: Using Dets' Durin wives as usual.

Dáin had escaped the council meeting early that day, desperate to remove the uncomfortable ironfoot that he had been wearing all day and relax in his rooms. He also knew his beautiful wife would be in there after a long day in the smithy and he'd get a chance to spend some quality time with her.

"'Adad!" In his hurry to leave the council chambers for his room he missed his son, Thorin III Stonehelm calling after him. It had only been five years since the Battle after the reclamation of Erebor and his now 80 year old son was slowly learning the ways of kingship, "'Adad! Da! I need to speak with you!"

But Dáin didn't hear Thorin as he hurried away towards his rooms; Thorin was stopped on the way by one of the older council members otherwise he may not have walked in on what he did.

Dáin stumbled over his feet when he walked into his rooms and found Thira laying on the bed, out of her usual heavy smithing regalia her braids loose around her head she looked years younger and lighter and like the eager young Dwarrowdam that Dáin had married years ago.

After Dáin had thrown away the twice-damned heavy crown that rested around his brow all day every day and stripped off his heavy layers he crawled over his splayed out wife on the bed. Her gnarled, consistently burned hands tangled in his unruly beard and pulled him gently down on top of her, his substantial chest pressing against her heavy breasts spilling out of her loosened bodice.

They were frantically pulling off each other's undergarments, locked tightly at the lips, hands roaming the naked skin being quickly revealed, when the door slammed open. Dáin's trousers and smalls were half-way across the room and he was braced on his forearms, his undershirt loose around his shoulders, over his equally naked wife.

Dáin, completely unashamedly, propped himself up higher on his arms and turned towards the door.

The Stonehelm stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes were massive in his face and the hand that had pushed open the door was hovering in mid-air as he stared at his parents on the bed. Dáin pushed himself into a sitting position beside Thira, who huffed and pulled her torn bodice and undershirt over her naked breasts. She then pulled the bed covers over Dáin's lap whilst he stared at their son standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

"'Adad… I… what are you and 'amad doing?" Thorin's eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head slightly at his parents state of undress. Dáin stood from the bed and, after crossing the room to pull his smalls back on, he approached his befuddled inûdoy cautiously.

"Thorin? What d'ya mean?"

"I mean… why are you in bed during the day? And why are you both in a state of undress before you need to go to sleep or bathe? … is this the reason you left the council chambers early? To lounge in bed with 'amad?" Dáin's and Thira's eyes had been growing larger and larger throughout their son's small speech and by the end Dáin was staring at a point past the Stonehelm's shoulder, his lips pressed in a thin line and his nostrils flaring madly as he tried to keep in the slightly hysterical laughter that was threatening to burst from between his lips. Thira had covered her face with her hands and was breathing heavily into them, her shoulders shaking and her bodice and undershirt pooling around her waist in folds of fabric.

Thorin's eyes flew wide, his hands flapped around awkwardly and his whole face flushed a very bright red, to the tips of his ears. A slight smirk appeared on Dáin's face as Thira reached down and affixed her bodice back over her generous chest, her cheeks still flushed from her silent laughing fit and her lips twitching every few seconds.

"'Adad?" now the Stonehelm was glancing between his parents, the confused look contorting slightly and including the growing embarrassment he was clearly feeling.

Dáin opened and closed his mouth awkwardly for a few seconds, and glanced back at Thira, his eyes widened in horrified wonder at the fact that their eighty year old son, ten years past majority and 30 years past the age he should have been informed about it, didn't seem to understand a single thing about sex.

"Thorin… what exactly do you think we were doing in here before you came in nidoy?"

"I don't know 'adad, but I'm sure it can wait, I wanted to ask you about some important things regarding the council meeting." Dáin closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before looking back at his young, and apparently very naïve, son in front of him.

"Thorin." Dáin huffed at the words hesitancy to come out of his mouth, "inûdoy, you do know about sex right?"

"Sex 'adad? Why is this relevant? Why are you mentioning sex when I wanted to know why you were naked in bed with 'amad?" Dáin nearly choked in shock at the completely redundant sentence that had just left Thorin's mouth.

Thira stood from the bed, pulling the sheet up and around herself as she approached her embarrassed and flustered son and her eternally amused husband.

"Thorin, nidoyith, would you mind just stepping outside for a few minutes? Me and your 'adad need to have a talk." Thorin frowned at his parents both staring at him with mixed emotions before nodding and backing out of the room. The door closed behind him with a resounding crash and he watched it blank faced for a few seconds before turning away and beginning to pace in the corridor.

He started when he heard raised voices from in the room.

After the door had slammed shut behind their son Thira and Dáin turned to look at each other incredulously and remained where they were for a few minutes before both opening their mouths simultaneously.

"He…"

"Did…"

"He didn't just say that he doesn't know what sex is… did he?" Thira looked imploringly at Dáin who was looking back in horrified supplication, "our 80 year old son Dáin… please tell me that he knows what sex is."

"err… well."

"Dáin?"

"Well did you tell him?"

Thira stared incredulously at Dáin, "Me? Dáin I thought you were going to tell him?"

"What?! No! I distinctly remember you saying that you would tell him when he turned fifty."

Thira crossed her bare, muscled arms over her partially exposed chest and huffed at Dáin, "Well, I am not telling him now, you're his 'adad, you can explain everything to him. We certainly don't want a repeat of our wedding night with him do we?"

Dáin glared half-heartedly at his smug wife before rolling his eyes and getting dressed properly. He then shot his wife one more good-natured grumble, pulled her warm, pliant body into his arms and kissed her senseless before striding out the door to explain sex to his oblivious son. Dáin was unsure of how exactly to broach the topic with a son who should have been educated 30 years prior, Dáin did not want his son to come to his wedding night, just like he himself had at 86, with no knowledge of what was supposed to be happening.

He approached Thorin who was standing in the hall looking confused and worried at the incredulous shouting that had emanated from the room minutes prior.

"Well son…"