A/N: Well, deareader, isn't your prompt just perfect? ;) It also gains the second half (for format unity purpose :D) from UKReader's one. How could I pass an opportunity to talk about Wren's knickers? :)

The time when Thorin had to chose between dazzling sex with Wren or the dazzling Arkenstone, while Wren wanted to wash her smalls.

"You can take the stone, sweetpea. Here it is, just say it, it's yours again," she stretched the open palm with the glimmering gem on it, "I will have to give it to Balin perhaps, and tell him where his King is, as he is slightly tied up, I don't think untying you myself would be wise..." She stepped closer. The fragrance of lilacs tickled his nose, and his eyes ran along her slender body, its outlines clearly seen through the delicate lace.

"Or you can choose differently now, Thorin, son of Thrain," her tone was serious, and his eyes flew to her face. It was solemn, earnest and sober, as he had never seen her before, "You can choose to remember that you are the Heir of Durin, the King Under the Mountain, remember that you have your duty to the Khazad and other peoples living around you, and that the war is the last thing you want to see in your home." She stepped one more step towards him and placed the stone on the pile of gold nearby but out of his reach. His legs were tied together but he could probably try to stretch them towards the white gem. He didn't, though his eyes stayed glued to it.

"You have seen war, Thorin. It took your father, your grandfather, your brother. This one will probably take your friends. Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili perhaps, Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Ori, Nori, Dori, Oin and Gloin, any of them might not see the light of day after you unleash war on the Men from Laketown and the Elvenking. Do you think Dain alone will overpower the army of Thranduil? His archers and his swordsmen? The war will come to your home, Thorin. And many will die. So, do you want it?" She gently pushed the stone with her tiny bare foot towards him, and he clenched his teeth.

He should have said yes, and she would follow through. He knew that much about her by now. She came back to help him again, following some sort of train of thought of her own again, but that much was clear. Were he to ask for the stone now, she'd give it to him and leave. He could just nod, and the Arkenstone would be his. He tore his eyes from it and looked in her eyes. She stood, relaxed and seemingly unaffected, her beautiful slender arms hanging along her body.

"Don't get me wrong, sweetpea, politics interest me not." Her tone was almost lazy. "As much as I care for Bard personally, his city is none of my concern. But I love you." Her voice didn't waver, and he felt his heart clenched at the calm even tone. "And Thorin I fell in love with wouldn't wallow in this madness. I know that sharing your gold is not in your nature, but neither are unreasonable decisions that endanger your people."

His mind whirred, dark suspicions and foolish hopes flashing through it. Was she sent by the bargeman? Was she in conspiracy with the Elves? Did she actually love him? Why did she come back? Was she right in pointing that he had been mad and blind? He was grasping for some sense and logic, trying to organise his thrashing thoughts, trying to find his ground again, and then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"If not the stone, what do I get?" He opened his eyes and looked at her face, a wide smiling immediately blooming on it, her eyes crinkling in relief and merriment, and she moved quickly and suddenly straddled him. He forgot about the ropes and jerked his arms again.

"You get to become the King your people deserve, you get to see Erebor rebuilt, and trade bloom in these lands. You get to be the man you have always wanted to be." Her tone was soft, and she cupped his face. "You get to be the King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the King of carven stone, the lord of silver fountains, your crown upholden, your harp restrung..." She talked in sing-song voice quoting the poem and then suddenly giggled. "By the way, I've wanted to ask you for a while, do you actually play harp?" He gave her a disbelieving look, and she grinned in return. Her hands stroked his chest, ran along his neck, treaded into his hair, and she finally kissed him. It was an sincere and earnest kiss, passionate and deep, and he moaned into her mouth. She ground her hips into him, he gasped and tore his mouth from hers.

"Untie me, Wren… I need my hands..."

She twisted her head and caught his earlobe between her teeth. She nibbled and sucked and then whispered into it, "I am not certain you can be trusted as of yet, sweetpea. Persons with compulsions tend to be very good in faking recovery. I need to do more examining to determine whether you have sufficiently returned to your good health." In accordance to her words her strong small hands were roaming his torso, and she nuzzled his neck.

"Are you certain it has nothing to do with you simply enjoying my helplessness?" He cocked one brow. He desired her painfully, the ropes he kept on pulling at were cutting into his body, but he felt saner than ever since she had left him at the secret door. The strange buzzing in his ears and nauseating dizziness he had been fighting since then were subsiding, and he took a freer breath in. His nose filled with the sweet fragrance of her skin. She caught his mouth again, and he felt her deft little fingers on the strings of his trousers. He once again jerked his head from under her caresses, as much as he hated to lose contact with her hot greedy mouth.

"You cannot deprive me of that, I need my hands… I will be rather useless without them..." His voice was scratchy, but he was feeling merrier than he had in days. She chuckled and tut-tutted.

"Among many reasons why I prefer you the way you are at the moment is that I am rather fond of these bloomers. Were you hands free, they'd be in shreds already, love." He met her eyes, and an unpleasant heavy thought visited his mind.

"You do throw this word around liberally, Wren." The same old pain returned, dull and mind-numbing. She had left him, she didn't want to stay with him. She gave him a small sad smile and cupped his face.

"I did come back to you, Thorin."

"Will you again?" Their gazes locked she was silent for a few instants and then nodded.

"As long as you want me to."

"Always, Wren," the words fell from his lips effortlessly, and he saw her eyes fill with tears.

"Hikhthuzul, Thorin?" Always?

"Hikhthuzul, kurdu." She pressed her lips to his, and he lost himself in the sweetness of her mouth, the soft caresses of her tongue, her hands on his skin under the tunic she bunched up, and he only returned to a resemblance of clarity of thought for one instant when his member slid into her. He gasped, his head dropped back, and he loudly groaned. She was still, her temple pressed to him, her body trembling on his, and he suddenly guffawed. He forgot he even could laugh.

"Vixen... How?.." She laughed shakily in return and lifted one hand. There was a ribbon in it, it was part of her undergarments, and apparently held the bloomers whole before. He shifted and looked down at where their bodies were connected. The bloomers had turned into a semblance of a skirt, apparently the ribbon was weaved between the legs before. "Ingenious construction..." He couldn't help but approve.

"My friend Thea is an undergarment seamstress. You just wait, I have the most exciting items in my possession." He kissed her under her ear and then gave her neck a long lick.

"I am afraid at this stage I'd find you appealing even in a potato sack." She giggled.

"What about some nice Elven dress?" He feigned disgust and cringed theatrically.

"That would certainly trial my feelings for you, but as long as it was gone quickly..." She smacked his shoulder and shifted her hips. He hissed. He was certain she was clenching and unclenching those muscles on purpose. "Wren, can I have my hands back? I feel my reason has been very much restored, and to be honest my arms and legs have fallen asleep." She straightened up and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I am sorry, love, but you will have to wait for a bit more. I have a few things to say to you, and I'm worried you might get unsettled again. So I will just..." She rolled her hips into him, and he growled. Last time in this position their love was intimate and romantic, this time she was quite clearly intending to show him her skill. Her hips were moving forcefully, muscles caressed him in determined, measured strokes, while an intoxicating twist was added into the thrusts of her pelvis. He was losing his mind, in a very different way this time. He moaned loudly, she was unraveling him, he felt like a musical instrument she was playing, and yet he welcomed it. "I gave the white gems back to King Thranduil."

The meaning of her words reached his brain much later, and when it did he jerked and opened his mouth to yell, when she sank especially deeply on him, and he mumbled, "Oh, damn with the cursed gems, let him have it..." She laughed in a silver voice and halted. She caught his eyes and smiled to him.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, yes, just keep on moving..." She did, and her lips were by his ear.

"Tell me you approve, tell me why you do..." Her whisper was soft but commanding, and he rasped out.

"He will not go to war… Mahal… I do approve… He always wanted them, it's a… Mahal help me… smart move… He now has no claims… Oh yeah, to the left… for Erebor's treasure..." She did something especially magical, and he cried out coarsely.

"And Bilbo..." She seemed to be losing command over her voice as well, "He was right, Thorin. You did promise him and Laketown a share of your gold..." He clenched his teeth, grasping for some sort of sanity.

"Why are you on their side?" She stopped moving sharply, and he growled. Her hands lay tenderly on his cheeks though, and she made him look into her eyes.

"I am always on your side. Men lananubukhs menu." I love you. "But you are a man of honour. You won't forgive yourself if you break your word." He kept silent for a moment. She was right. She apparently saw his mind in his eyes and smiled to him softly and slightly mischievously, "I wouldn't share, but again I'm nothing but a petty thief."

"Amlakuh, Wren." You are my half, Wren. He felt almost angry with her, no one was allowed to speak of her this way, even she herself. She smiled gratefully and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She once again whispered into his ear, "Can I untie you hands now, sweetpea?" He groaned showing his agreement, and then she bit into his jaw and sniggered, "Nah, I think I'd rather not."

He was planning to express his distress when she shifted, her thighs squeezed his impossibly tightly, she bent backwards, her upper body rising up sharply and plummeting down, the ridge of his cock catching on the ring of her muscles with each of her jumps, she started chanting and mewling in pleasure, and he climaxed, with a roar, his body quaking and his breath coming out in rasps. She fell on his body, soft and warm, and purring.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then he felt the ropes slid off from around his body. His arms dropped, no feeling in them, but he pushed himself and clumsily wrapped them around her body.

"Do I want to know where you were hiding the dagger this whole time, haban?" His tone was tender, and she snorted into his shoulder, her head was resting on. One of her hands was still on his chest, under his tunic, and she weakly clawed at him. He moved his arms, twirled his hands, gaining dextrosity in his wrists and fingers, she was breathing on him evenly, and he wondered if she fell asleep.

"Wren?" She hummed and nuzzled him.

"I am not sleeping, I am enjoying. You are very warm. But you need a bath." Her tone was teasing, and he stroked her back and her hair. She was so pleasant to touch!

"Amenities were the last thing we were concerned with, Wren."

"Shows how much you know..." she murmured, and he guffawed. Insolent minx! "Next time I'm visiting I'm expecting luxurious bath chambers and a clean King." He cocked a brow, though she couldn't see him.

"And when exactly will that be?" She heavily straightened up, yawned with gusto and smiled to him.

"When there are luxurious bath chambers in Erebor, just like I said. And to be honest, that coronet over there was lovely. After you make the registry of your treasure, maybe you should consider it among my remuneration."

"It belonged to my grandmother. Are you going to pawn my heirloom?" There was no malice in his tone. He might have been feeling too sated to care about anything. She sighed and stretched. His member still in her, she leaned to the side and picked up a golden coin from the floor near his thigh.

"Are all of these some sort of heirloom and have some pompous significance and can't be looted without me feeling like I'm stomping over your fragile Dwarven heart?" She twirled the coin between her fingers, and he quickly leaned in and kissed her jaw.

"I am going to make it even worse for you. I'm going to allow you to take anything you want, and you will lose interest in stealing anything from my treasure." She gasped in feigned horror.

"You wouldn't dare! That's mean!" He chuckled and kissed her again. He just really enjoyed kissing her.

"Is that a wren?" She shoved the coin under his nose, an impish grin on her lips, and he laughed.

"This is Carc, the Raven of Erebor, one of the guards of Ravenhill."

"Looks like a wren to me. Too round and fat for a raven." She carelessly threw the coin behind her and proceeded to kissing him. He couldn't say he objected.

After she cut the ropes on his lower half, and they made love twice more, on the golden heaps, she curled into his side, her fingers drawing lazy swirls on his skin. He was absent-mindedly stroking her back.

"When I come next time I also expect a proper bed. I think some gems and coins might have gotten embedded into my skin, and now I have the same armour as Smaug did." He cringed, and she looked into his face attentively, "What?"

"Someone will have to skin him to get those back." She mirrored his facial expression.

"Yeah, the stench is rather potent… Even though gold is not supposed to bear smells, these," she picked up a handful of coins and threw them aside immediately, "seem to still stink of dragon. To say nothing of clothes and flesh." He chuckled. She was clearly hinting on him. She was right, he couldn't remember when he took a bath, slept or ate properly last. The memories of the madness of the last days flooded him, and he pulled her into himself tighter. The warm pliant body was real, she was real, and the sickness that showed its ugly muzzle for an instant scampered away again. He sighed, it was time to get up. He wanted to stay like that for at least a week, but there were two armies under his walls, diplomatic relationships to mend, and a city to rebuild. A few more questions needed clarification as well.

"How came you by the Arkenstone again?" She lifted her head and propped her chin on a small fist. He gazed at her lovingly, she was lovely. In the golden glow her skin was radiant and the mad orange curls, scattered on her shoulders were brighter than any jewel in his possession.

"I nicked it from Bard when I heard that the hobbit gave it to him. I didn't expect it, I thought he'd give it back to you. I would rather stay away from politics, but I had a suspicion you would just end up chopping each other to pieces over the gold and over measuring your cocks." He lifted one brow, and she exhaled in exasperation. "And no, I have no idea, haven't seen any of other participants in this pissing contest." He shouldn't have felt so pleased, but the corners of his lips twitched, and she punched him under his ribs. He emitted a completely fake yelp.

"And out of all of us you came to reason with me? Surely talking sense in your friend Bard would have been easier." She supported her head on a bent elbow and spoke quietly, without raising her eyes.

"Would you believe me if I said that I was ready to give it back to you even if it meant it didn't change anything and that I meddled into state affairs, right in the middle of starting war, just because I felt bad about stealing it from you?"

"I'm starting to," he answered tenderly, and pulled her into a deep kiss. She stretched on him and sighed heavily.

"I must have lost my mind..." She murmured into his lips, and he pressed her into him closer. He knew he already had, and he rejoiced to know she was there with him.

Another hour later they got up and started getting dressed slowly. She had her sack with her. She pulled on another pair of lace undergarments from it, which caused a small explosion in his head, and another bout against a column. She had no time to take them off, he pushed them to the side, and now she was studying them, her delicate nose wrinkled.

"Alright, that needs washing. I am starting to get annoyed. Esgaroth is destroyed, you don't have plumbing set up here, the lake is half frozen and full of debris, Mirkwood is too far. I need comfort, I need a bath, proper sleep, and to clean my clothes. Ugh," she stuffed the two pairs of her undergarments into the sack, and pulled clean clothes out of it. He was watching chuckling. She looked like an irritated kitten, hissy and dishevelled. She noticed his facial expression and stuck her tongue at him.

He walked her through several passages, luckily avoiding his companions, and she stopped by a tall window, seeming blocked by rocks. At this stage he didn't doubt her proficiency in escaping and finding routes he couldn't see. Suddenly, she jumped at him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Keep safe, azyungeluh," she whispered, her voice broke, and when she moved away from her he saw that her eyes were full of tears. "Promise me you'll keep safe." She cupped his face and he smiled to her. She worried!

"I promise." Her face wavered, something bothered her, and then she quickly kissed him. Before he could reciprocate she pushed away from him and disappeared between rocks, while it seemed a mouse couldn't have passed among them. He shook his head and started marching to the halls he knew his company was in.

That was when Balin ran into him, wildly gesticulating and telling him the astonishing news. An army of Orcs and wargs was attacking from the North! While Dain was under Erebor's walls, ready to engage the Elves and the Men, the darkness spilled on the valley, thousands of bats like locust filled the sky, hiding the sun from those on the ground, and Thorin rushed into the armoury. He grabbed the armour of his fathers and the Elven blade the small thief had returned to him in the dungeons of Mirkwood. His hand lay on the familiar hilt, and he spoke a short prayer to Mahal asking to keep her safe in the midst of war. He closed his eyes for an instant, and when he opened them again he was the King Under the mountain, ready to fight for his friends, his people and for his allies.

A/N#2: And that's it, my darlings! I don't have anymore prompts! Give me more, please! And remember, the vaguer they are, the barmier the result :)