1. HOME

Kaylea woke to the touch of Thorin's lips on her cheek, his beard brushing her skin. Then his lips on her neck, the soft touch of his tongue. Sleepily she turned and put a hand behind his head, guiding his mouth to hers. She savored his warm, earthy taste, felt the cold of snowflakes in his hair.

"When did you get back?"

"Just now," Thorin smiled at her, leaning over the back of the couch. "I cannot believe I actually found you asleep."

"Only you could sneak up on me like that," Kaylea pushed herself up, running her fingers through her hair. She felt foolish, she should have woken as soon as he turned the lock. But subconsciously I knew it was him, I knew I was safe.

Thorin took off his coat and hung it up, then added a couple logs to the fire. The coals in the hearth became a merry flame, popping and crackling. He took a seat on the couch, propping his boots on the table.

"Can I get you anything, husband?" Kaylea asked. Thorin shook his head and drew her close, she curled against him, laying her head on his shoulder. They watched the fire in silence for a time, Thorin gently stroking her hair. Kaylea had lived so much of her life in peril and uncertainty, she had come to relish these moments. With her husband's strong arms around her she felt so completely safe, like everything was right in the world.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch? Is there something wrong with the bed?" Thorin teased. He turned and kissed her cheek again.

Kaylea chuckled at him. "Yes. You were not in it." She let her fingers travel inside his shirt, tracing the muscles of his chest.

"Ah, I have been having the same problem." Thorin tilted her head up and kissed her, deeply. Kaylea could never get enough of the way Thorin tasted, like rain on hot earth, with a hint of some half-remembered exotic spice. The smell of frankincense in his hair, the touch of his hands that should be rough but were somehow soft as silk. The feel of his lips still sent the same thrills up her spine she had felt in their first days together; she could lay in his arms and kiss him for hours.

"Shall we drink a toast to celebrate?" Thorin asked, after a long moment.

Kaylea smiled at him and pushed the blanket in her lap aside. She could feel Thorin's eyes on her as she went into the kitchen to retrieve a tall bottle and two glasses, secretly glad she had showered and put on a clean tunic and leggings before laying down on the couch. Thorin was used to her work clothes, but he had been gone for weeks; she always liked to make an effort to welcome him home.

"What brought you home so early?" Kaylea asked as she poured the drinks. "I was not expecting you for a few days yet."

Thorin took his drink then reached over and ran his fingers down one of her braids as she took a seat beside him. "You really have to ask that? After all this time?" He clicked his glass to hers. "You know there is no place in this world I would rather be than with you. I finished my business early and rushed home to my beautiful wife. And I got to wake her with a kiss. A perfect way to end the day." He refilled their glasses. "There are two wagons of fine steel coming behind me, enough to last me until next year. The steel they are making in Erebor now is amazing, better than any ever made by Elves." He sipped at his drink, frowning. "There was a meeting of the Seven Families while I was there."

Kaylea sat back. "A meeting of the Families? How many years has it been since there was one of those?"

"So long I don't remember," Thorin said thoughtfully.

Kaylea could tell there was something weighing on his mind, no doubt it involved the meeting. She watched him closely, hoping to pick up a clue, but Thorin gave her no sign. She leaned against his shoulder and waited for him to go on. After the silence had stretched on for some time, she risked another question. "Why the meeting?"

Thorin took a deep breath and shook his head. "I would rather talk about you. What have you been doing while I was gone?"

"Nothing as exciting as that!" Kaylea laughed. Tonight's snow had been the first of the year, soon the mountains would feel the hard grip of winter. While her husband had been in Erebor she had been laying in food for them and the dogs, clearing trails and hauling wood. There were ten cords outside that needed to be bucked and split.

"Sounds as though we have a busy day tomorrow," Thorin said, a twinkle in his eye. "We better get a good night's sleep."

Kaylea shifted over to sit in his lap, running her fingers through his hair. "You wish."

The next morning they started on the firewood, three cords were done before the wagons from Erebor arrived. The freighters were Men from Dale, with their help the metal was soon stacked neatly on the racks in Thorin's shop. The wagons were moving almost as soon as the last bar was unloaded, the Men wanted to be on their way before any new snow fell and the skies had been threatening all day. Kaylea stayed out of sight, so as not to give the freighters any cause for gossip.

Later that evening, after dinner was cleared away, they sat together on the couch watching the fire and enjoying a couple bottles of the new ale from the abbey. Thorin had been playing with Kaylea's braids and started taking them out. He was never satisfied with the way she did them, and in truth Kaylea loved it when he braided her hair. There was a kind of quiet intimacy to it that spoke more clearly of his feelings for her than words ever could. He had said nothing about the meeting of the Seven Families all day, though she could tell it had been on his mind.

"Why don't you want to talk about the meeting?" She asked at last.

Thorin took a deep breath, his fingers working her hair. "I keep trying to tell myself it is no longer my concern." Thorin chuckled. "Did you know there is a statue of me on the front of Erebor? It is taller than the gate. And some of the other kingdoms are doing the same. Now they want to give me my own holiday."

"You have become a hero to your people, surely you expected this."

"I did not," Thorin sighed. "And it goes deeper than that. There are some who say that I was not Thorin Oakenshield, but Durin himself, reborn to restore the glory of our people. And others that say I now sleep beside him, in the Halls of Awaiting, to rise again in my people's hour of need. Did you know Eldarion put up a statue of me in Gondor?"

Kaylea smiled. "You did kind of save the planet."

"Blackwolf saved the planet," Thorin scoffed. "A case could be made it was the Vorlons. The role I played was very small."

"Are you so uncomfortable being the hero, husband?" Kaylea turned to face him. "You really have changed. The Thorin Oakenshield I met on the road to Erebor would have carved that statue himself."

Thorin sat back, looking a bit chastised. "Is that really what you think of me?" He shook his head, his face thoughtful. "Ah, you are probably right." He fell silent as he finished the two braids she wore that matched his, then got up and moved around the couch where he could work on the rest of her hair. "When I was growing up it was always impressed on me that I was the heir of Durin, one day I would be king. The sense of responsibility was a heavy burden for a young Dwarf to bear. And then came Moria and it all landed on my shoulders. I did well by my people, but I never thought of it as heroic, just what was expected of me."

"I remember that day after our first night together, walking through the city," Kaylea said. "You wore the mantle of King so easily, you made it look natural. And your subjects clearly adored you."

"That was after the Battle of the Five Armies," Thorin's fingers worked her hair. "The Thorin Oakenshield who went into that battle would have built that statue, the one who came out was a changed man. The dragon-sickness gone, I felt I was seeing the world clearly for the first time." He stopped, laying his hands on her shoulders and leaning over to see her face. "That was Pilot, wasn't it?"

Kaylea kept her face expressionless. In all the years that had passed since that day she had never told her husband it was the Kzin telepath that had cured him, though she knew he must have guessed. "Yes," she said after a long moment. "Remember, I had not seen you in many months, since we parted at the Bruinen. Pilot said you were under some kind of delusion and I asked him to clean it up."

"When I first saw him, I felt like I knew him," Thorin replied. "When I asked if we had met before, he said 'In a way.' I thought it was odd, but so many strange things happened to me that day I did not remark on it at the time."

"I'm sorry, my king," Kaylea looked down at her hands. "My first impulse was only to help you. Pilot said he could ease your pain, but it was a violation of your privacy for him to be wandering around in your head, let alone making changes."

Thorin slid his arms around her, kissed her neck. "Do not apologize, my love! Without Pilot's help I could never have become the king that Erebor needed. He freed me not only from dragon-sickness, but from all compulsive attachment to gold and riches. I never again looked on my treasury as anything other than a tool, a means to rebuild Erebor and increase its influence."

"I would not say you lost all attachment to gold and jewels," Kaylea teased.

"I did not say that," Thorin grinned at her. "I still enjoy the way they look against my woman's skin. I love to make beautiful things, but I do not covet them as I once did." He straightened up and went back to work on her hair, falling silent again. It was some time before he was finished. As soon as she felt him attach the last bead to her braids Kaylea turned to face him, kneeling on the couch. She took hold of his hands and drew them against her breast, her eyes locked on his.

"Now you will tell me what happened at this meeting that so weighs on your mind," she told him.

Thorin took a deep breath, looking down at his wife's hands. "Freya's husband has died of a sudden illness. You may remember her son fell out with his father years ago and now cannot be found."

Kaylea nodded. "Leaving only Freya and her daughter to rule in the Iron Hills."

Thorin frowned, now that he had finally told her Kaylea could see he was inwardly seething. "Some of the families want him declared dead. Her husband's nearest relation is a cousin from the Blue Mountains she has never met. They want him as King in the Iron Hills."

"Crowns pass only to sons. That is the law."

Thorin eyes were blazing. "My daughter could rule her kingdom far better than any Dwarf who has been a miner all his life!"

"You will get no argument from me," Kaylea said. "But no woman has ever ruled a Dwarf kingdom."

Thorin dropped his hands and moved around to sit beside her again. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "I keep trying to convince myself that this is really not my problem, but I cannot abandon my daughter."

"The politics of the great families are no concern of a country blacksmith, and your daughter is old enough now to fight her own battles," Kaylea said flatly. "Does Freya even want the crown? Surely the families will not expect her to marry this man. What do you know of her mind? Would she rather live out her days as princess of Erebor?"

Thorin smiled. "I can tell you she has refused to step aside. Her representative at the meeting said she will not allow them to declare her son dead without proof. She has renewed the search for him and asked the other kingdoms for their help."

"Smart girl," Kaylea smiled. "She has bought herself at least a year. Sounds like she will fight, not surprising considering who her father is." Her brow furrowed. "A year is enough time to prove herself to her people, and prepare if this is to end in war."

"There will be no war if her son is found."

"Husband, this would be far too risky for us to undertake," Kaylea said. "We cannot be recognized; it would undo our whole reason for coming here."

"I want to know what has become of my grandson," Thorin said gravely. "If he is dead, then he must be returned to the halls of his fathers. If he lives, then he must be convinced to take up the mantle of king." He took his wife's hand, gently stroking the back with his thumb. "I have no wish to take part in the politics surrounding this, I only want to find my daughter's son." He gave Kaylea his best pleading look. "Will you not help me? Please?"

"You are not playing fair!" Kaylea said sharply, clearly exasperated. "You know I can refuse you nothing when you look at me like that!"

Thorin smiled at her. "Good to know I haven't lost my touch."

Kaylea shook her head. "This goes against my better judgement. If we are recognized, I get to say I told you so."

Thorin shrugged. "Fair enough. There are few who remember exactly what Thorin Oakenshield looked like now. The Dwarves of Erebor know me as Frerin, a distant relation of the king from the Ered Luin who now lives in the north. It would not be unusual for me to help in the search for his missing cousin."

"Then who shall I be? Should I dye my hair black and be an Elf?"

"You cannot be an Elf," Thorin frowned. "I would have to divorce you. And I forbid you to take out your braids."

"Ah, then I will sew a hijab and be a Southron."

"Mmmm…I have always wanted a slave girl," Thorin smiled mischievously. "Tempting as that is, you already have an alias. My wife, the wild Northwoman who drives teams of dogs." He chuckled at her dubious expression. "It is not so unusual for a Dwarf to marry a Human these days, though I have endured no end of teasing about it."

Kaylea laughed. "Your new identity also has a Human wife!"

"Yes. No one dared question me when I was King, but now all I hear is: 'at least you can reach the best parts' and 'how does a hairless woman keep you warm on those cold nights?'" Thorin grinned. "I expect they are more jealous than anything, there have never been enough Dwarf women to go around."

"Does this wife of yours have a name? What does she look like?"

"Her name is Tara," Thorin smiled. "She was quite wild when I found her, it took me a long time to tame her. She paints her face and has a pet wolf; she is still not quite domesticated."

"We certainly have that in common!" Kaylea pushed his shoulder. "Almost a hundred years since you handed over the throne of Erebor and you can still crush people with your majesty. Domestic is a word that will never apply to you!"

"Like I have always said, we are made for each other," Thorin leaned over and kissed her neck.

"Do you know why your grandson left the Iron Hills?" Kaylea asked, returning to the matter at hand. "And are there any rumors of where he might have gone?"

Thorin was quiet for a moment, sipping his beer and studying the fire. "I do not know Nain well, but he and his father never agreed about anything. I believe the final break between them came over a woman, someone his father wanted him to marry. The king sent many to search for him, but he was never found," Thorin said. "I have an idea they may have been looking in the wrong places. Nain never took interest in traditional Dwarven pursuits, he preferred maps and books to hammer and anvil. He often talked about writing a history of our people."

"Are you sure he would want a crown? Scholars often do not make the best monarchs."

"He is not that kind of scholar," Thorin smiled. "He is one of those that studies the lessons of the past. I had a most enlightening conversation with him once concerning the alliances between the families. I think his political skills might equal yours."

Kaylea took a deep breath. "So, we have no idea where he is and the trail is stone cold. If we are going to do this we have much to prepare."