A/N: And here comes another test drive of an idea! Barmy as ever :) It is planned as a three-chapter fic in my head: this one, plus one for Wren, one for Thorin, and an epilogue. What do you think, my lovelies?

I understand that this one might have a limited audience! Don't feel you are obliged to understand what all this mental rattling is all about :D

The King's lips are sliding down the neck of his wife, he is pulling at the low cut of her undertunic, the bodice of her velvet dress already unlaced and pooling around her waist. She is arching her back, dropping her head back, allowing him better access to the pale skin of her cleavage. His lips find the swell of her small breasts, and she moans throatily.

"Haban… Zundush… My glorious, gentle Wren..." He is supporting her under her shoulder blades, not allowing her to fall back, lifting her limp upper body to his greedy lips. She treads her fingers into his ebony mane, argent strands glistening in the rays of the setting sun.

"Oh Thorin..." She breathes out and twists, lunging up and catching his mouth. Hands roam bodies, lips dance, and neither of them hears a strange humming noise at the background. It becomes louder, as if the second layer of the same noise covers the first one. The King pushes his wife on the blanket stretched on the ground, blindly shoving the picnic basket away, bottles of wine and apples rolling out of it, when a delicate cough makes him jerk his head and put his palm on the hilt of his sword carelessly thrown on the grass near him.

"I am so sorry to bother the two of you, but honestly how do you breathe doing this? Through your ears?" The King shields his wife, who is hurried pulling up the bodice of her dress, and stares at the men in front of him. They are both quite obviously of Men, one very tall, astonishingly slender, in a strange garb with stripes going along his lanky body, and the strangest hair the king has ever seen in his life. It sticks up and falls ahead like the feathers of the cardinal bird. The one who spoke is only slightly shorter, wearing a jacket and a pair of very narrow trousers, and a strange cravat that looks like a butterfly. Thorin slowly pulls the sword towards him, rising without tearing his eyes from the strangers.

"Your majesty," the gaunt one lifts his hands in a universal gesture of surrender, "We came in peace. We are here to..." He looks at the second one obviously asking for support.

"We came to ask for help. You see, there is a time paradox..."

"It's a timey wimey thing, hard to explain, but you two can help us," the lanky one interferes.

"You should stop interrupting me!" The butterfly cravat one turns to him. "We need to establish protocol between us. Let me explain to them, I am quite obviously better at this."

"What? You? Which one of us had an encounter with the Great Intelligence and did not manage to convince them to surrender? Literally, pure intelligence, and you did not manage to explain to them the motivation of your actions!"

"Which one of us married Queen Elizabeth the First thinking she was a zygon?"

While they are arguing, Thorin pulls out his sword out of the scabbard and slowly moves the Queen behind his back.

"My lord, they do not look very hostile," the Queen whispers, "Rather muddled in my opinion, but hardly dangerous." The King throws a look at her over her shoulder, quite obviously with male superiority.

"Let me see to this, kurdu." She snorts and steps from around him.

"Kind sirs, if you could stop bickering…" The strange men continue their exchange. "Honestly, you are worse than my children... Attention!" She is at least a foot shorter than both of them, but the fists pressed into her hips and the firm tone make them both grow silent and stare at her.

"Perhaps I should speak, I have experience with royalty," says the taller one with his hair sticking up in an astonishing disarray.

"First hand experience," the second one mumbles under his breath and receives a disdainful stare from the tall one.

"Your majesty," the striped one steps forward and stretches his hand. The King Under the Mountain shifts towards them, but the Queen throws him a warning stare over her shoulder and puts her fingers on his palm. "Your majesty, my name is the Doctor, I am a time traveller..."

"Are we supposed to tell it to them straightforward though?" The second one flails his arms in the air in exasperation, "You will frighten them."

"Not Queen Zundushinh," the one calling himself the Doctor murmured thoughtfully, his brown eyes locked with the green slanted ones of the Queen of Erebor. He presses her knuckles to his lips, and she smiles to him and shakes her head.

"You should release my hand, kind sir, before my husband chops yours off." The tall man steps back releasing her hand, in a slow motion, the tips of his fingers brushing her palm. "You were saying..."

"My name is the Doctor, and this is also the Doctor, which does not matter..."

"I do matter!" The second one interrupts and steps ahead with a stubborn pout, but then he catches the eyes of the Queen and smiles to the small woman.

"Of course you do, kind sir," the Queen's tone is mollifying, and he prims up. "Are you also a time traveller?"

"The one and only. Well, technically the one and the eleventh, but that is the question of perception. Considering he kept the face twice, and there is the one that didn't count before, but counts now..."

"I have to agree with you, kurdu, they are clearly muddled," the King's sarcastic tone makes the shorter man stop on his tracks, trailing away his mad rambling. The Queen turns and gives her husband a soft smile. Let me decide myself, I am clearly a better judge of character, her eyes say. The twitch of his brow is a clear answer for her. Help yourself.

The taller Doctor rolls his eyes, "That is why I wanted to do the talking. Your majesty," he addresses Thorin and bows slightly, "the Doctor, at your service." Thorin slightly nods in return.

"Thorin, son of Thrain, at yours." The King looks completely relaxed, leaning on his sword, but the Queen can see that he is ready to pounce at the men in front of him at any instant necessary. He is just allowing her to have her fun.

"And this is my associate, the Doctor. A mere coincidence..." The man with strange hair clears his throat and looks at the Queen again. "We are time travellers, and we came here for help." She tilts her head and looks at him attentively.

"You are not lying," her voice is soft, and he slightly nods.

"The famous intuition of Thorin's Wren..." He murmurs and smiles to her widely. "We are going to need it! We have a universe to save and a marriage to arrange, we will need your amazing talents, my lady." She looks at him in merry disbelief.

"Tell her about the intertwining timelines, I like that bit." The second Doctor chimes in.

"My lady, you and your husband are a fixed point in space and time, meaning no matter how circumstances change and no matter how the world around us fluctuates, you two always have to end up together, the two of you are like… the Earth and the Sun, like the day and the night, you are always supposed to meet and couple with each other..." He gestures madly in the air intertwining his long fingers.

"I beg your pardon?" A low growl of the King makes the lanky Doctor freeze with his mouth half open. The King is clenching the hilt of his Elven blade.

"Oh great," the second Doctor quips, "You made him angry. We do not want him angry, we need them to cooperate. Let me try," he steps ahead and puts his hands up splaying his fingers.

"Here we go, the flailing," the first Doctor snorts.

"The two of you are each other's destiny. You are to be together, your shared fate goes through the fabric of the universe, through times and space, like a thread through real fabric, holding it together." His eyes are shiny, and he wiggles his fingers. "If a threat snaps, the fabric will start falling apart. And here you are, at the very beginning of your path, the very first Wren and Thorin, with all your regenerations, so to speak, ahead of you, and you need to help us, because something went wrong, and your thread is lost, and from this it is..."

"Like a ladder in silk," the Queen finishes, her eyes widened, and he grins to her.

"Yowzah!" They are looking at each other smiling. "Oh glorious Wren! I would kiss you right now but it won't agree with your husband, I suppose. He'll chop off my head, and I like my head."

"Do you understand any of that, zundush?" The King's tone is apprehensive, he is reaching the limit of his patience.

She turns to him and explains in soft, pacifying tone, "They claim that the destiny of the world depends on our love, my lord."

The King snorts and answers in a derisive tone, although there is underlying tenderness in his tone, "Then the world is safe. Was there any particular reason these wizards had to interrupt our picnic?"

She chuckles and turns to the Doctor in a strange cravat, "Tell me about the ladder."

"Some time in the far away future in a completely different land the two of you didn't... happen. You both lived and your paths crossed, but something went wrong, and now the fabric of reality is getting torn apart. We cannot interfere because the two of you are the fixed point in time, meaning nothing can be altered, but on the other hand, it has to be corrected. So we thought that the two of you actually could."

"I think I have had enough of this mad rattling. And it is time to return to the Mountain, my lady." The King picks up his doublet from the ground and peevishly asks his wife, "Do you need me to help you with the lacing, my heart?" A doubt is written on the face of the Queen, and she looks at the taller Doctor.

"You will have to provide us with a valid argument, kind sirs. Perhaps a proof or a prophecy of sorts."

"Zundush, they have obviously had too much ale..." The King's grouchy remark is cut short by the second Doctor rising his hand with a strange metal rod with a green light glowing in its end, and a strange screeching noise erupts from it. And then the King and his small wife make a few frightened steps back when a strange wooden box appears in front of them, bright blue, with notices in an unknown language and a small window in its front door.

"The TARDIS," the shorter Doctor announces, as if introducing a very important guest.

"Time and Relative Dimension in Space," the tall Doctor adds with warmth in his tone. "A time machine." The Queen steps ahead first, but her husband grabs her arm.

"Zundush..."

"It is harmless, my King," the redhead's tone is soft and distant. "It is old, and powerful, and a bit of a flirt, is she not?" She touches the wood of the door and smiles.

The tall Doctor snaps his fingers, and the door opens.

"Oh, here comes the line! I love the line!" The cravat Doctor is clenching his fists in anticipation like an overexcited toddler. The Queen peeks in and gasps.

"It is bigger on the inside!" The butterfly cravat Doctor mouths with her words. Her tone is exuberant, and he giggles.

"Yes!"

The King rushes to his wife, but stops near her staring inside the blue box.

"And to think of it, it looked like an outhouse..." The King murmurs awed.

"Oi!" Both Doctors shout at the same time.

"Show some respect!" The one with mad hair says. The King tears his eyes from inside the box and points on the metal stick in the shorter Doctor's hand.

"Is that your magic staff?"

"What, this?" The man in the strange cravat exclaims, "No! It is a sonic screwdriver! It is not a weapon!"

The second Doctor nods, "Doesn't kill, doesn't wound, doesn't maim. But I'll tell you what it does do. It is very good at opening doors. And getting us where we need to go. Shall we, your majesties?" He gestures, inviting them to go into the box.

"You want us to go with you two?" The King looks at them in disbelief. "Why in the Durin's name would you think we would agree?"

"Because we have already convinced your wife, your majesty, and that pretty much decides it." The shorter Doctor says and smiles. The King looks at his Queen and puffs air in indignation. She is giving him a shy smile.

"Would you excuse us?" She grabs his sleeve and pulls him aside. There is an agitated whispered dialogue between them, she is quite obviously mollifying, he is huffing and puffing, but he is quite obviously losing this battle.

"Alright!" He barks dropping his arms along his body in surrender. She squeals and throws her arms around his neck. She is peppering small kisses on his face, and he pretends to dislike it.

She rushes to the blue box, practically bobbing on her heels. "So, kind sirs, where to?"

"Well, your majesty, the place is called London, and the years is 2014 A.D." The lanky Doctor announced, and the Queen steps in.

"What in the Durin's name is A.D.?" The King grumbles and picks up his cloak from the ground, heading inside the box as well.

"Oh apple," the taller Doctor sinks his teeth in a fruit and follows the royal couple.

"Apple's rubbish. I hate apples," the other one grouchs, following them, "Fish fingers on the other hand..."

The door closes behind them, and with a strange whirring noise the blue box disappears in thin air.