Thorin stared at the overhanging trees, willows he thought they were called. Their long green fronds trailing down to the ground making the perfect hiding place for two people up to something never done in polite society, or at least never admitted to.

"Will it always be like this?"

He sighed deeply at the question, a smirk sliding across his lips as he dearly wished so. There was a fervent desire in him to lay on this ground, spongy and soft with lush green grass, and hold tight forever the beauty resting on his chest.

"Well, I could build you a home here, a small one mind you."

Shana laughed, "No," she punctuated her word by trailing her thin fingers through the hair on his belly, up to one flat nipple. "I meant us, will it always be so…"

He knew what she meant. This heat, this desire, this unquenchable compulsion. He'd thought that after a week of being beside her - inside her - that his ardour would cool. He'd asked his sister in private how he should act, what he should expect. Her advice was sound, coming from a dwarrowdam that had been married, yet what was between him and this woman was nothing like Dís had described.

For starters, they didn't talk much, if you didn't count the constant words screamed by them in passion. Secondly, Thorin hadn't stayed at Ered Luin long enough to create a home for her. And she'd never cooked him dinner or mended his socks.

Aye to be sure it was the strangest relationship, but it was the most pleasing he'd experienced. Knowing this, he answered her as best he could.

"I truly hope so."

The answer seemed to satisfy her as she slipped over him, a knee on either side of his thighs as she smoothed her hands over his chest, down his belly to his shaft that stood up waiting for her delicate hands. He should have stopped her, they'd been waylaid long enough. The night was dark, and they still had to travel to the hill at the end of the curious town.

But he didn't. Instead, he groaned as she set to her task, hands sliding over him pausing at the tip of his shaft before sliding back down, a hand cupping his balls, massaging them speeding his way to completion.

He wasn't about to be rushed, and he knew at least one member of his company who would make an excuse for his tardiness. Pushing that all aside he reached up grabbing her, wrapping his arms around her as he pulled her down and rolled them over. They'd been joined so often he could easily find her slick entrance and slid into her. Hers welcoming him tightly.

Yes, he could afford to be a little late with this exotic sprite arching beneath him.

Shana stood behind her husband where he'd placed her. It meant a lot to her that she was behind him not because he thought her so low, but because he'd explained, at all times he would stand in front of her as her shield.

The mark on the door, he'd explained to her, told him it was safe. However, he still would see with his own eyes that there was no danger to her.

She hadn't expected this. When Aban had come to her, telling her she was to travel north to a land she'd never seen and marry someone she'd never heard of, she'd cloaked herself in her duty.

She'd expected a highborn lord, and instead, she'd married a king of dwarves who though shorter than a man, was regal and honourable. A proud dwarf who despite his initial disappointing stare at her had shown that he too valued duty above all else.

It was a common goal and something she knew she could work from.

She'd never expected this urgent need in her after he had introduced her to the marriage bed. A part of her felt wanton and another felt peace. He was a good dwarf, and she knew that this was a good match.

Her loyalty to him was fixed. She could trust this dwarf to honour his word and in return, she would give all that she was to repay him. Even if she was enjoying it greatly.

He knocked loudly on the door, three forceful bangs with his fist. Light flooded the little garden path they stood on, casting her husband in a glowing aura like he was some ethereal being.

"Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door." She could hear the smirk in her husband's voice.

She smirked as well, it was true they'd gotten lost twice, but they'd found the strange home buried in the hill sometime back, as they were passing a willow tree.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago." The higher pitched voice had her curious, and she would have leant around her husband to see who it was. She knew it wasn't Gandalf's voice, perhaps one of this company she'd heard talk of.

Thorin's hand reached behind him, and she willingly grabbed hold, allowing him to lead her into a warmly lit home with a rounded door and rounded ceilings and archways. It was beautiful and welcoming. There was love built into every part of this home.

Shana peered over her husband's shoulder and saw a long wooden table through an archway. His people were gathered around it some darting their eyes curiously at her then back to whoever her husband was talking to.

"There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

Shana stood in the shade of her husband before he moved away and a man, with overly large, hairy feet and pointed ears came into view. He was dressed oddly in a patchwork coat, belted at the middle. His shaggy hair a light brown in colour, but his eyes. They were blue-grey and filled with kindness.

This little man, Bilbo, who was shorter than her, seemed a kind soul. Despite trying not to be intimidated by her husband as Thorin prowled around the man.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Thorin's words caused a laugh from those at the table and a bewildered look from Bilbo. Thorin's gaze caught hers, and she frowned at his mocking of the little man. She was surprised at her husband as he bowed his head slightly lowering his eyes in apology, to her.

He walked ahead of her after casting a glance at Gandalf, who seemed to be on the cusp of introducing her. Silenced by the look, Shana followed her husband regardless of his manners. Perhaps, she thought, Thorin wanted to make the introductions.

He'd said he wanted an equal in a wife. Shana glared up from beneath the hood of the cloak she still wore. She had not been introduced to all the other dwarves, even as she was passed over to a dwarf named Dori, with orders to seat her. She had merely been called his guest, nothing more despite the dwarf's curious look at her husband.

The room was cramped and the dwarf with grey hair and intricate braids in his hair and a thick beard that was partially braided while its length was encased in a long silver case etched with angular designs so favoured by these dwarves.

He had been overly polite in shuffling her to a seat in the furthest corner away from her husband. It grated on her being so far away from Thorin. How quickly she'd come to valuing the safety, security and warmth of her husband's body. Was she weaker in spirit because of it?

As her husband had been presented with food and all of them crowded back around the long table, her view of Thorin was cut off, and it seemed with her husband, out of sight was out of mind.

They didn't offer her any food, any ale, not that she would drink it. But to be placed in a corner and forgotten like some discarded item. Not useful anymore. She would tell her husband, when he was free, and after she was certain he'd eaten and looked to his own care, of course.

Oh, she was useless. Being angry, yet still concerned for her husband's well-being. She'd thought he would bed her once, and that would be it. Not that she would see a dignified dwarf, who gave his body to her freely. It was his fault all these tumultuous feelings.

And she would let him know, soon. Well, maybe when he was rested.

She didn't pay much attention to the shouting, when Gandalf had shown his power, going on about his burglar she'd sunk back in her seat in the corner. A quick glance from Thorin was all she was given.

As time went on that evening, her thoughts turned miserable. She knew that her husband was an exiled king and that this quest was about him taking back his kingdom and his right to rule. That was his reason for becoming her husband, her people were to help him secure his kingdom.

When one of the dwarves, a scruffy one with a hat had started talking about a dragon to their kind host, her eyes had darted to her husband. He paid her no more heed, whispering with Gandalf.

She'd never seen a dragon, she didn't want to. Would he expect her people to fight the dragon or did he have some other way to kill this beast? She wanted to talk with him, wanted to be calmed and caressed and told his plans so that she would know her husband did not intend to sacrifice her people.

She wasn't a fool to think some of the warriors of her tribe may die if others contested Thorin's rule over his kingdom. But to throw them into the flames, quite literally was not what had been said to her father or the chieftains.

The host collapsing in a faint pulled her out of her thoughts, and she immediately stood ready to go to his aid. Slipping out the doorway near to her she was able to circle around and saw Gandalf leaning over the short man.

"My Lady, some water would be helpful." Shana nodded at the request and quickly found the kitchen. She found a cup and filled it halfway returning to find Gandalf had pulled the sluggish man to his feet and was heading towards a room.

Placing him in a seat, Shana approached and proffered the cup, holding it as his shaky fingers circled the porcelain, touching hers. His hands were cold from shock, and he gulped at the water before he pulled his mouth away.

"I'm alright," he looked up at Gandalf.

"Perhaps some tea might be in order." Gandalf trotted off to the kitchen, and Shana was left with the small man.

"It was just a bit overwhelming, you know."

Shana smiled at him, "I can understand that." Perching herself on a footstool, she lowered the hood of her cloak.

"Gandalf didn't tell me your name."

"Hashana, of the Habai."

"Bilbo Baggins, of the Shire." He tipped his head at her.

She smiled up at him, "I know who you are." She looked around the dimly lit room, "I've never heard of the Shire.

"It's a grand place," Bilbo spouted on regaling her with facts about the Shire and Hobbiton.

"Hobbiton?"

"Yes, it's where we Hobbits live."

Shana couldn't help giggling. "A Hobbit. Is that what you are?"

Bilbo lifted one large, hairy foot wiggling it at her. "Couldn't you tell?"

"I've never seen a Hobbit before." She confessed, leaning forward a little she confided, "There's much in this world I haven't seen."

"That's truly a shame, for I have it on good authority there is much in this world that should be seen." Bilbo suddenly sounded the expert.

"Why are you on this quest?"

Shana opened her mouth to reply. "My Lady," Gandalf interrupted, "Your presence is requested." Gandalf helped her stand and led her out the doorway. Thorin waited for her down the hallway. His face blank of emotion, his eyes though were a deeper shade of blue. Was he angry with her?

She turned to Bilbo with a smile, "I hope you feel well soon, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

She walked to her husband looking at the deepening hue of his eyes, his full lips narrowed. Nostrils slightly flared. Yes, her husband was angry, but for what she didn't know.

"I hope you had a nice chat." Thorin edged around the large table, the rest of his company were settled in the Hobbit's lounge.

Shana stood in the archway, "He is a kind soul, and he had a shock." Explaining her actions with a frown, Shana stared at his broad back.

"I understand that, despite my request, you were not seen to as should've happened." As he said this, the young dwarf scribe, Ori, entered with a steaming bowl in one hand and a silver spoon in the other. He placed them on the table nervously flitting a look from his king to Shana.

His eyes widened at the sight of Shana, now that her hood was down around her shoulders. He mumbled something, she thought it could have been 'your majesty' to Thorin, and then to her, he fumbled a curtsy, before whirling around and running from their presence.

Shana smiled, holding back her giggle. The smile slipped as her husband stared at her. "You seem to be honouring many with your smile tonight."

The words were hard, tinged with an emotion she didn't recognise in him. "I'm happy," she explained, "I've never imagined places like this. Others, like our host. It's exciting."

Thorin slid the bowl to her, placing the spoon beside it and indicated the chair nearest to him. "I see, so the Hobbit excites you?"

Shana sat down picking up the spoon. The thick, lumpy stew smelled wonderful, filled with meat and vegetables.

"He is a wondrous creature." She agreed, "I never knew people like him existed." She looked up at him, "I know the Habai are not tall people, as the Haradrim, but to meet someone like him." She shrugged, not sure how to explain how exciting and curious this night was becoming despite her arrival to this home.

"So you like that he is shorter than you."

She nodded, chewing a mouthful of meat thoughtfully.

"Well, his height does give him an advantage, I suppose." Thorin placed one large hand on the table, leaning over her. "I'm sure you would find his head fit between your thighs without the need for him to bend down."

The spoon clattered back into the bowl, splashing little specks of broth over his hand. Shana brought one hand to her mouth, swallowing hard. "My Lord," she breathed deeply at the anger that rose in her. "I would never—"

"You will eat your supper and retire, wife."

At that, he was gone from the room. Shana stared at the creamy coloured walls, the empty room, the chairs left haphazard from the other dwarves. A shadow appeared at the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Ori in the archway. "Thorin asked that I show you to your room. When you're ready of course." He gave that strange curtsy again.

Shana pushed the bowl away, the food tasted of ash now, and her appetite had fled with her husband's vulgar words. Pushing away from the table she stood and waited for him to lead on.

She pulled her hood up over her head. Pulling it as far forward as she could, settling her face in shadow. She lowered her eyes, refusing to meet the dwarf's stare and indicated she was ready with a nod.

She passed through the room they all sat in, feeling every one of their speculative stares. "My Lady?"

Shana paused at her husband's voice, turning to look at him. He stood by the mantle, a pipe in hand ready to light it. He opened his mouth to talk, and she knew she could not listen to his words. He'd sworn to her she would never be his property, she would never be his to command, always his equal.

"Goodnight, My Lord." She whispered, bowing her head, making sure her eyes were kept lowered before walking away. Not caring that he was left with his mouth open, words left unsaid.

It seemed she was only an equal to him when she was on her back.

As she followed Ori, she could hear the murmurs of Gandalf and Bilbo. She wanted to walk back to that dim room and say goodnight to the wizard and the Hobbit. But only so she could feed her anger. And, that would be unfair to Bilbo. He no more deserved her husband's anger than she did.

Ori opened her door, and she slipped into the room, a hobbit-sized double bed sat against the wall with a candle above the unlit fireplace and a second one beside the bed.

"Goodnight, My Lady." Shana nodded. Her back to the Dwarf until he closed the door and left her alone. She moved to the bed and lay upon it, wrapping her cloak around her.

She laid there listening, her mind drifting as her eyes closed in tiredness. When a song began, the voice deep, soothing, then accompanied by humming, it lulled her into a restless sleep.

Warm breath, like a sigh, drifted across her neck. She'd had her hood pulled up, her long braid pulled over one shoulder when she went to sleep. She stiffened as another warm breath slid over her bare skin.

"You're awake."

Shana turned her face into the pillow, not wanting to speak to him. Not sure what else would come out of his mouth.

If he thought she would spread her legs for him this night, or any other, willingly, he was mistaken. He would have to command her if he wanted the joys of the marriage bed ever again.

"You are… upset with me, perhaps?"

She closed her eyes, firmly trying to ignore him. "Yes, definitely upset with me."

A lone finger trailed down her neck to the curve of her shoulder. Followed by his soft lips, and the scratchy bristles of his beard. Shana clenched her eyes, the beard, it was the most surprising thing she'd ever felt. The Habai men grew large beards, not as bushy or as well cared for as dwarves. They were rough, abrasive and dirty.

Thorin's beard, it was scratchy, yet had the strangest softness, and it tickled her. Not so as to make her laugh, but when he brushed it against her, like now, it seemed to find every tender part of her skin, marking everywhere he touched with a sensitivity she'd never believed existed.

He dragged his mouth up to her ear, "Did I tell you I was a jealous old fool?"

His tongue flickered over the edges of her ear, down to the lobe where he suckled it like a babe.

Shana braced to move, but a solid arm came around her waist holding her against his broad chest. His mouth moved across the edge of her jaw. Teeth scraped against her lightly, and her eyes flicked open, unable to help the harsh breath fall from her, Shana grabbed at his arm. She didn't want this, she didn't want to want him when he had been so cruel to her.

"Did I tell you, that I remember every one of your smiles you have bestowed on me?"

"Stop." She begged, pushing harder at his arm. She was turned quick as Thorin pulled her to her back his body over her before she could stop him, one leg between hers. One hand seized her jaw, his grip tight but not painful. In the flickering of one candle, she beheld eyes of midnight blue.

"I'm a jealous old fool, who treasures every smile you gift me. I tuck them away in my memory only so I can pull them out, like keepsakes, and see them again."

Thorin leant up and placed the softest kiss on her forehead, trailing his beard and lips down to her cheek. He placed another soft, lingering kiss. Warm breath wafting over her face, bringing every nerve ending to attention.

His lips passed over hers, landing on her other cheek. "My words were foul, my anger unjust."

He pulled up onto his elbows, gazing down at her, with perhaps the most doltish look on his face. "I couldn't stand you smiling at him. Especially as I've neglected you all eve." He rolled off of her to the edge of the bed. "I didn't even introduce you to my company. I meant to, but I couldn't."

"Forgive me, Shana. Forgive me for being so selfish to only want you all for myself."

She moved quickly, up, swinging her legs over him, her hands snatching at his braids to pull him into her. She was craving those lips and hating those words, because her husband, her king, was never vulnerable.

When she'd kissed all the words from his mouth, she drew back. "Love me."

He nodded, tilting his head his lips barely touching hers. "I am yours to command, My Queen."

In the short time, they had been married, Shana had learnt well that her husband loved to undress her, as much as she loved to undress him.

Thorin, though, took his exquisite time. He would always reveal her slowly, often pressing kisses, or flicking his tongue over her body. Tonight was no different as he peeled each layer away. Her cloak, the tunic of homespun, her drab travelling dress. Lastly, she lay there in her shift. The white material so thin it was easy to see her body.

As like their wedding night, he swept her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. He'd already removed his outer garments and was dressed only in tunic and breeches. Moving to the end of the bed to stare at her, he flicked both braids off his shoulders before placing one knee on the bed.

"Know this, My Queen, I shall love your body thoroughly this night. In doing so, I will gain penance for my words and actions."

She didn't understand what he meant. There was nothing more to forgive.

He crawled up the bed, and she willingly parted her legs. They couldn't go wide as the shift pulled taught around her shins. His hands reached out, sliding over her ankles, up towards her knees, taking the cloth with him.

Resting her head on the pillow, she had to look up at the ceiling. Already it was too much for her. Too much feeling, too much sensation, too much stimulation. Her body was alight, ready to explode and he wasn't even near to getting inside her.

Penance, this word made sense to her now. He would chase forgiveness from her body and soul, and she would burn for it. She hated penance with every fibre of her being.

"Look at me?" how could she not with his quiet words so insecure. No one saw him like this, she'd seen that for herself at Ered Luin. He was graceful, noble, confident, and very arrogant to those that surrounded him. When they were alone, though, he had become different. It had been an honour and a privilege to realise with her, he let his guard down

His hands reached her thighs, then her hips. The shift bunched around her hips as he lowered his head and kissed the inside of her thigh.

"Forgive my cruel words."

He kissed the other thigh.

"Forgive my abandonment of you."

A little higher a kiss with a scrape of teeth.

"Forgive my jealousy."

The other thigh, higher still, kissing the seam between leg and body.

"Forgive my mistrust."

He nuzzled his nose into the soft hair above her centre.

"Forgive me, Shana."

His mouth moved lower, his tongue swirled around her nub, it swelled for him.

"I would rather cut off my sword arm than see you're anguished face again."

He sucked her nubbin into his mouth, flicking his tongue against her. She arched, a fierce cry slipping free.

"My wife, my beautiful, innocent wife. I have been unjust to you."

He let go of his tenderness and suckled her into his mouth. Her world was splintering apart already. Her hands dug into his head, his wandered up to her belly, his thumbs caressing the curves of her breasts.

A thrum rushed through her, her legs shook, and she tried to gasp his name.

He moved with that speed a great warrior possesses, his hands under her thighs, pulling her legs over his shoulders, his face sliding down. His tongue speared her, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Her feet dug into his back, his thumbs parting her, flicking at her centre. She was drowning, her breath deserting her, her belly curved in, her breasts pushed out, her neck arched, her body lifting off the bed. Her hands clawed into the sheets.

"Thorin," she cried. It was the first time she could ever remember crying his name.

Passion, unhinged and maniacal flooded her, her mind blanking, her ears were assailed with the sound of her rushing blood. She could feel her heart beating spastically, thought perhaps his ardour would leave her dead.

She shook her head begging for no more, his desire would be her destruction.

Something inside whooshed up her body, it freed her lungs, melted her brain, clamped every muscle tight in her body. Until she exploded.

Her spasming body was tied to every lick, flick, suck and swirl of his tongue. Fire igniting under her skin and all she could do was burn.

She lay there, naked body glistening, fine tremors still lancing through her. She was sated and tranquil, her husband's head laying on her belly. She stroked his thick hair, her other hand resting on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," his voice was hollow with exhaustion.

She smiled and looked over at the ruined shift he'd ripped from her body, before plunging his length into her, his talented mouth finding her breasts and loving them as equally as he loved the other sensitive parts of her body.

She easily forgave him, even when he used the material to wipe his seed from her body. To hear him say sorry was not something the King often did, if at all.

"Rest now, My King."

His hands snuggled around her, his lax body laying between her splayed legs as he nuzzled into that stroking hand.

"Good night," he slurred with sleepiness, "My love."

Shana froze, staring down at his sleeping face. His brow furrowed at her stillness, and she forced her hand back to caressing his hair. Watching with attentive eyes as his face smoothed in sleep.