Thank you all who have taken the time to review since December! Guest reviewers, I am thanking you here since I can't message you. Your positive words help me keep writing, and I strive to make it worthy of reading. :)

Hana and Thorin weather through the winter, with renewed hope and personal joy for the approaching spring.

The day after Thorin asked Hana to marry him, she woke up just after sunrise. She got out of bed quietly, stepping gingerly as not to wake Thorin, whose steady, deep breaths of sleep filled the bedroom. She pulled on her cloak and boots, and stepped outside into the beckoning dawn.

She walked about ten yards from the front door of the smithy, into the grass, and surveyed her surroundings. Much of Eldfell was still asleep, or appeared to be, much was still around her in the ambience of the new morning. The crows were revving up their sullen racket. Across Pigot, Hana saw a slow gliding hawk as it lazily scanned the earth below it for possible prey, flying in a languid pattern.

Hana stared uncertainly at the foggy meadow ahead of her, hugging her cloaked arms round her chest to protect against the chilly air. The icy cold metal of the chain, and Thorin's mother's ring pressed into her skin, at the beginning of her cleavage. She considered what she had agreed to. Hana thought about herself as his wife, and hoped she would be good at it. She hoped his friends and family would accept her in this new, elevated role, and not think of her as an outsider. She allowed herself a smile of pure, unadulterated, basking happiness. Hana knew not to count any chickens before they hatched, to be sensible, but this was a feeling she would not experience again. So she made sure to savor it to the fullest. Before walking back inside, she noticed the slow moving hawk in the distance swoop down into the treetops of pine, presumably for prey.

She returned inside presently, after having her fill of the cold morning air. Hana chose her trousers and tunic for the day, and before she changed into clean undergarments, saw familiar light brownish red streaks on the crotch of the old pair. She studied the stains for a moment, and breathed a deep sigh of genuine ease. Dull, throbbing cramps slowly crept from her crotch into her abdomen, like the gradual reach of a growing tree's roots into the earth. The cramps sharpened as they extended to and around her navel. Hana quickly walked into the small water closet and squatted over the pot, and the cramps became even more intense as she expelled. Hana looked between her legs at the large, vivid, scarlet clot and relieved herself. Hana was more relieved than usual to get her monthly. After she finished, she padded herself accordingly with rags, and arranged her hair into a coiled plait. It felt oilier and limper than usual, as was normal during her period. She fixed herself a tea for pain relief. The cramps strengthened rapidly, and when she sat down to drink her tea and allow herself a moment of relaxation, Hana realized her trousers felt tighter than usual, especially around the waistline and in the seat. Her abdomen was rounder. Hana shifted uncomfortably in the seat, as sitting right on her haunches proved painful. It took her some time to attain a comfortable position.

There was not much left in the way of food at the smithy. Hana had enough ingredients for a small loaf or two of rye bread, so she began to mix the dough after finishing her tea. She stood at the table as she vigorously worked flour and water into a sticky ball of fibrous dough, patting the mixture with flour every few minutes or so. A loose strand of hair fell in her face as she worked, and she moved it aside with the heel of her right hand. She formed the dough into two small loaf shapes, and just after she leaned over to place them in his small stone oven, Thorin emerged loudly from the bedroom. He eyed her and the oven for a moment before speaking. He marveled silently at the sight of her, her reddened cheeks streaked with flour.

"Many thanks for making that," his groggy voice bordered on a bellow, and was startlingly loud as he pulled his hair back into a loose ponytail. Hana gasped and her shoulders shook, as her back had been to him. Hana touched her chest in shock. She felt her heart begin to pound, and felt foolish for being so startled.

"'I didn't mean to startle you, Hana, I'm sorry," he said as he hung his head in annoyance at himself. His tone was rather terse and she could not tell if he was in a mood.

She shook her head as she waived off his apology, not wanting to let on that she was scared.

"Did you sleep soundly?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

He shrugged slightly. "As well as expected. Not without interruption. Indigestion, I suspect." Thorin made a halfhearted attempt at masking a rather loud yawn. He scratched the right side of his jaw. Hana noticed his beard looked a bit longer than usual.

"I think we may have to make a trip to town for provisions soon. Today, if possible. While we're out, I will find you something for your stomach." Hana wiped her flour-covered hands on a small towel beside the oven as Thorin bent over to fasten his boots. "And food, of course. I doubt we can make this (she motioned to the oven) last more than a day, and your larder is nearly empty, I'm afraid."

He stood upright and scanned the room ahead of her in thought, then settled on her face. "I agree, you're right. We can't put it off. I must go through town today to drop off some tools, anyway. The man I made them for is quite old and I told him I would bring them over. We can pick up some provisions whilst out. If that is agreeable to you." He eyed her as if noticing something was different about her face.

Hana nodded breathlessly. "That's fine. Let me wash my hands and take this out of the oven, and get a drink before we go. I have felt dry mouthed ever since waking this morning." He saw she was more harried than usual as he watched her with folded arms.

"Dry mouthed?" He asked quizzically.

"Yes. It feels as if I have a mouthful of cotton." It also felt as if a large fist was tying her intestines into a knot, but she did not say so.

He thought on her analogy, brows slightly creased. "Of course," Thorin replied. "But Hana…wait…" he caught her hand as she walked past him, forcing her to stop. "Wait a minute," he said softly as he touched her cheek. He kissed her gently, then moved back a few inches, their faces still close together. He watched her without speaking for almost two full minutes.

"What?" Hana asked defensively, anticipating a comment about her appearance. She was not feeling overly confident on this day, especially not about how her appearance.

He shook his head with a slight shrug. "Nothing," Thorin answered. "I'm just happy to see that ring around your neck. It fills me with pride."

Hana felt her face grow even hotter than the flashes she was experiencing that day. She managed a smile back at him.

"Happy I can do this as well," he whispered as he kissed her again. "How much longer has the bread got?"

They reached for each other's hands. "About forty minutes," she said.

"Well then we shall go out after. Hmm?" He prompted her with a nod, and handed her a cup of water. She nodded back without a word, and drank it all in three gulps without stopping.

Hana descended the steps outside the front door and waited as Thorin locked the smithy. He jiggled the door handle and pushed on to ensure it was locked, then joined her. The walk into town was rather humdrum. Villagers were more out and about their business, more ventured outside as the scourge of early winter had passed. Hana thought she could see Fili exiting the tavern and making his way towards a tied pony, but could not tell from far away.

The swath of woods they travelled through was the opposite direction of Hana's hut. She noticed the woods were denser, there were fewer clearings, and it was an altogether less travelled area. The hilly ground was blanketed with slushy ice on the verge of melting, pine needles, thick moss, and underneath that, rocky soil. Thorin led the way. They trekked for about an hour, before Thorin stopped and motioned ahead wordlessly with a heavy gloved hand.

They looked in the direction of a small log house, tucked into some proud looking firs. There was a small fenced in pen beside it, surrounded by a log fence. The logs were of uneven shape, but all similar length, ends pointed. Inside the enclosure were six goats, aimlessly puttering along in their yard. Hana and Thorin stood about a hundred yards from the house.

"There's his house. His name is Rupert; I realize I neglected to mention that. I do not know how he manages alone, living so far from town." He shook his head and he looked her in the eye as he spoke. "His eyesight is poor, so if he appears to be glancing at you in an odd fashion, that is the primary reason. And he has a bad right knee, so most of his weight favors his left side."

"The primary reason? What's the secondary?"

Thorin still eyed her. "He's also suspicious of strangers."

Hana frowned as she observed the house again. She noticed smoke coming from the chimney. "Hasn't he any family? Relatives nearby?" Her query was met with a resigned shake of Thorin's head. He walked closer to her and they stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched the goats, which were completely oblivious to anything outside their pen.

"No family. His wife passed many years ago. Before I moved here. I think that loss is what made him resort to this eremitic lifestyle. He has no relatives. No surviving children, at least not that I am aware of. He has a skittish cat."

His voice quieted in tone. "I have suggested a few times that he move closer to town, for safety reasons. To be closer to supplies and the like, let someone help him with his goats. He will not be swayed." Thorin's tone sounded more exasperated. He stare became vaguely trance like, and he blinked a few times in distraction, brought back to the present as Hana nudged him gently with a canteen. He took it from her hands and drank. She watched his throat contract as he gulped, then he handed the vessel back to her with a nod of thanks and a fond hint of a smile.

"Shall we go call on him?" She asked. Thorin took her hand and they walked toward Rupert's door.

The gentle bleating of the goats and rustle of wind through tree limbs provided a soundtrack of tranquility as Hana and Thorin waited. It was a few minutes before any activity could be heard. Then shuffling footsteps sounded on the other side of the heavy wooden door.

"Who's there?" The elderly, strained voice uttered. The voice sounded like it came from a throat ailing from congestion. Hana noticed there was a small, rectangular peeping window at the head of the door, but it did not move.

Thorin leaned close to the peeping window. He watched Hana as he spoke against the wood of the door.

"It's Thorin, man. I've brought you your tools."

The window moved about two inches, stayed open for a moment, then quickly slid back shut with a loud snap. There was heard the clanking of a key jostling, as the bolt turned, then the door slowly creaked open as the man revealed himself. His back was hunched over, his long, sparse hair was thin and white, and what teeth he did have were severely discolored. He wore a muted gray tunic and loose brown trousers. He greeted Thorin with a delayed but genuine smile, and his glassy gray eyes immediately darted to Thorin's right, where Hana stood, offering her a nod of greeting and a reserved smile, though meant initially for Thorin.

"You are a sight for elderly, sore eyes, lad. So are you, miss," he said boldly to Hana as her smile broadened. And who might you be?"

Hana cleared her throat and reached to shake his hand. "Good day to you, sir. My name is Hana. I'm…I'm Thorin's friend."

Rupert saw in the blushing circles on Hana's cheeks and the wide smile on Thorin's face that there was more to the story. There was even detectable rosiness to Thorin's cheeks.

"You sure you're not a bit more than that, then?" The old man was not gullible, Hana soon realized.

Thorin turned and beheld her proudly, beaming as brightly as the morning sun. "She is my friend. Recently, most fortunately for me, she agreed to become my wife as well." He turned and faced Rupert, as if silently prompting the old man for more questions. Hana knew her face was flushed all over, but she was beaming, too.

"Well…..good on you, then. Good on you." He shook Thorin's upper arm vigorously with fatherly congratulations. "Come in and sit a spell. Allow me get you both some refreshment."

Hana and Thorin sat on barrels beside Rupert's modest hearth, the stone floor of his small home covered with a couple of small fur area rugs. Thorin regaled the man with a summary of his activities over the last six months, and what he had been up to since he and Rupert last met, on the way back from Selfoss. Thorin unwrapped his heavy parcel of tools and laid them out on the small table in front of them. Rupert touched the cool metal with his withered, arthritic fingers, and smiled. There was a small sickle, a couple of household knives, and a long rasp for use on the goats' hooves.

"You did not take long, lad. Many thanks for that, I was managing without these, but the day's work will be much easier now I have them."

Hana sipped warm ale from her wooden stein and casually noticed details of the house as Thorin and Rupert talked business and what news they had to share. She took in the wooden ledge shelf affixed to the wall above the hearth. Shiny, glazed ceramic pots of varying sizes were displayed, each catching the natural light of the sun creeping in from the windows. She observed them with interest, and did not hear the timid cat watching them from around the doorframe leading to the bedroom. The sooty gray feline mewed curiously and stretched out its hind legs as its tail curled lazily behind it. Hana thought she heard something, but dismissed it with another drink of ale.
"Come 'ere, my lovely. Come 'ere and meet the company," he said sweetly as he could. The cat watched them all calculatingly, as if weighing her options. Thorin turned and watched it with barely raised brows. The cat decided to venture into the room, prancing rather haughtily past Hana and Thorin, and rubbed her head happily against the shins of her master.

Hana couldn't help herself, she smiled at the display. She grew up with horses, expertly bred, trained and maintained by the Elven horse masters in Imladris. She had learned to ride them, care for them, and even love some of them as pets. But she did not have close experience with any other sort of domesticated animal. The clear affection the old man and the cat had for each other was pleasant to witness.

"She's a proper lady. A good friend to me," he said with beaming pride as he rubbed her head. "And an expert at keeping mice at bay." Rupert scratched her on the chin as she purred loudly. "Her name is Holly. Isn't it my dear?" Holly's purring grew louder as her master brought her a small dish of milk, which she eagerly began to lap with her reddish pink tongue.

Rupert presented them both shortly after with a small platter of sliced bread and their own small bowls, each contained a thick, creamy white mixture. Thorin bowed his head in thanks as he accepted his, and gratefully began to eat his with a wooden spoon. Hana was initially hesitant, but politely tasted hers. It had a slightly sour flavor at first, but the texture was smooth and it was the first fresh food Hana had eaten in a long time.

"Have you ever had skyr before, Hana?" the old man asked. She shook her head and took another bite, heartier. It was delicious, whatever it was.

"No, sir. I've not tasted anything like this, but it is quite good."

"Would you like to try some honey in it?" Rupert offered, as he motioned to a squat little jug on the ledge above the fireplace.

Hana nodded enthusiastically. "Please," she replied brightly. "That sounds delicious."

He poured about a tablespoon's worth of the amber liquid into her bowl and she mixed it into the creamy white skyr. Thorin did not try his with honey, as his bowl was quickly empty. Hana took a honey mixed bite and savored it with delight. She could not remember tasting anything so good.

"That was payment enough, man. Thank you. We shan't find the like of this anywhere in Eldfell. Finer quality here, by far."

Rupert set his stein down, and chuckled. "Not fine enough payment for your work, my lad."

Hana scraped the remaining streaks from her bowl and then set the empty dish on the table.

"Looks like you enjoyed it, young lady." Rupert gave one slow nod of his head, with pride.

"I most certainly did, thank you," she replied. "What is in it?"

"Goat's milk, mostly. It can be made with cow's milk as well. Sometimes I add honey to it, as you see. Sometimes berries in the summer."

"It is quite fine, sir."

Rupert studied her with the curious interest of an elderly, lonely man in the company of a much younger, attractive woman. "Then I shall need to send some home with you, won't I?"

Hana noticed Rupert's fingers as he refilled her stein with ale. He must have been no more than sixty, but the weathered, solitary forest life of a hermit widower aged him. His knuckles were bulbous, abnormally wide for the size of his fingers. She saw that each finger was slightly distorted in shape, and he flexed them at least four times since she and Thorin arrived. Arthritis, clearly.

"Do those hurt?" Hana asked as she took a sip, her eyes watched the old man without blinking. He frowned a bit, not understanding, but that changed when she motioned to his hands. He suddenly understood, as indicated by his reconciled frown and pursing of his thin lips, framed by papery wrinkles.

Rupert let out a weary sigh. "Yes, they do indeed. It's an unfortunate reality of getting older, dear. Luckily for me, they do not hurt so badly they prevent me from work. When that happens, I shall be in trouble."

Thorin took an audible gulp from his stein, his throat contracting he consumed his drink. "I have got it too. Just not as noticeable when your fingers are naturally thick." He waved the digits on his right hand to illustrate. Hana quickly glimpsed her mate's fingers, to compare them to Rupert's. She eyed the old man with intent empathy.

"Willow bark can ease the pain of that. Soaking your fingers in it, I mean. It has healing properties for the joints, reduces the swelling. I refine that when it is in season. I can bring you some," she offered.

Rupert rubbed his aged knuckles thoughtfully, the way elderly people do when they consider a thought and are preparing an answer.

"Could you indeed?" He replied with genuine interest. "That would be lovely. I fear it will only worsen as I advance in years."

As she washed their dishes, the old man and Thorin walked outside and strolled round for about fifteen minutes. Hana could hear them at first, their voices sounded muffled through the walls of the small house. When Hana stopped and laid the dishes on a small towel to dry, she noticed Holly peering at her shyly from a few feet away. The petite feline slowly approached Hana and then rubbed her soft body against Hana's ankles, mewing faintly. Hana wiped her damp hands dry on her clothes and reached down to pet the cat, but Holly was too skittish for such familiarity yet. She darted away from Hana and leapt onto a chair beside the front window, no doubt awaiting her master. Hana just shook her head and laughed as she made for the door. Such devotion, she thought. Her cramps were flaring up again and they had a long walk back to Eldfell, which Hana was not anticipating.

Hana rejoined Thorin outside as he wrapped up his conversation with Rupert. They stood about twenty steps from the house, and Hana stepped unobtrusively on the damp, late winter grass. Her boots crunched the earth as it was also scattered with gravel. Their words grew louder as she approached them. The old man faced the Dwarf with hands on hips, as he spoke informatively, lips pursed, nodding frequently. Thorin's arms were folded proudly, his usual listening stance.

"The Settlement goat is a hardy breed, Thorin. I wager, if you are considering raising some, you won't be disappointed."

It was Thorin's turn to nod. "Aye, yours look to be a sturdy lot." The six goats in the enclosure took no notice of anything except their feed, they chewed their hay languorously, their eyes narrowed as the wind drummed and ruffled their shaggy coats.

"They are. The milk is nourishing for an old timer like me, and sought after as an alternative to cow's milk. Also good for the little'uns, in case you were wondering." He was not trying to be intrusive or funny, he just looked at Thorin with the face of a know it all senior, who was imparting his sage life advice on the (somewhat) younger listener. There was a slight smile on his face, once Thorin got his meaning.

"Indeed. I'll let Hana know."

"Ah, the very lady," Rupert said pleasantly, announcing her presence as Hana stood beside Thorin with a somewhat sheepish smirk on her face, as she had been eavesdropping.

Rupert cast the two a surmising glance, as if he were to about to remark on their future joined lives. He thought the better of it, and Hana could see the fading comment disappear from his lips.

"Your dishes are clean, sir. I left them drying on a towel," Hana said. "Thank you for this afternoon. It was lovely meeting you."

"The pleasure was mine, Hana. Do come again, please. You are most welcome. Bring this old bear back with you, too."

"We will be back in about two months," bellowed a smirking Thorin as the wind whipped through his loose, silver streaked mane. "Isn't it about that long between our meetings?"

"Yes, indeed. Come by for some ale, if nothing else." Rupert wiped his hands on the apron he wore over his tunic and trousers, and reached for Hana's hand, which he shook warmly. "Safe travels back," he said as his cold, bony fingers wrapped around her hand, which Hana answered with a smile. "Take care, man," he said to Thorin with a heartier handshake.

"You as well, my friend. We will see you again two moons hence."

The journey back to Eldfell and Thorin's passed quickly, most oddly. Hana thought it might be because it was a bit warmer, and less snow on the ground certainly helped. Hana and Thorin kept their wits about them and their watch alert, as the sun reached closer to the horizon, signaling late afternoon.

"Hana…" he began, as their boots crunched against the gravelly forest floor, blanketed with twigs, pinecones, and small rocks.

They walked side by side. She turned her head to look at him and he at her, as she expectantly upstretched her brows to beg his question.

"If that Elf had not attacked you, and you felt no threat to your safety, would you have left the Valley?" Thorin asked.

Their steps continued. Thorin kept his eyes on her, and she focused on his for a moment, before sighing and looking out ahead at them again. Blurry orange beams of late afternoon sunlight stretched out across the rows of pines around them, and set her irises alight. His question came out of nowhere, seemingly.

"I would have, Thorin. Yes." She replied as another heavy breath followed. The vapors from her lips blew a cloud of white into the chilly air. "I…not so suddenly as I did. But I wanted to see what lay beyond the borders of the Valley. I wanted to explore more of the world. When I came of age, I knew that I would venture out on my own."

"What would you have wanted? To go into a trade?" He asked. A pestering crow kept flitting along where they strode, watching them with peculiar concentration. Perhaps it expected them to drop food on the ground. It was persistent, though ignored.

Hana shrugged before giving her answer. "Yes, perhaps. To see other races of the world. To see other lands. I did not want to seek out danger. But I did not want to live my life, hidden away from the world, amongst a race that I would never be fully, willingly accepted into by all. Though I tried my best to assimilate."

Thorin scanned ahead as the outskirts of Eldfell became visible through the woods. He stopped walking briefly, looking at the village. Hana stopped beside him.

"Mmm. I cannot promise that you will not experience hostility like that in the future. But…" he turned over his left and eyed her. "I will promise to do my best to help you feel part of my kind. I will support you."

Hana did not return his look immediately. She surveyed the village and shook her head in a fruitless effort to mask her anxiety. Thorin reached for her right hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you, Thorin," she replied. He put up no resistance as she lifted his massive, gloved hand to her lips and kissed it with an appreciative peck. "Truly."

They started into the village shortly after. The muddy roads were more easily forgeable since the heavy snows had melted. Hana was walking a bit slower than her usual, purposeful stride. Thorin had taken notice since they left that morning, but decided not to pursue it. Her cheeks were scarlet. Thorin took her aside after they stopped by the grocer's store; he spoke to her quietly, earnestly near large, twenty-pound bags of rye flour she was investigating.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked. He stood beside her, his voice lowered so the other customers in the grocer's store, a middle-aged couple, could not hear.

Hana did not face him immediately, but when she did, her eyes were alert, rigid on him. She appeared flustered, was sweating slightly , and a twinge embarrassed. She also felt wobbly kneed.

"I am fine, Thorin. It's only my monthly. I will feel better when I'm able to take something for the pain. But otherwise, I am fine." She shook her head with mild annoyance, her tone was curt.
"Has it been that long since you have been in the company of a menstruating woman?" She muttered as she hoisted a bag up over her shoulder. Hana walked away from him, setting the bag on the counter before she ventured over to inspect what dried herbs were available.

"Not for over sixty years," he grumbled under his breath as he followed her, allowing a respectable space between them.

It was late in the evening. The half melted candles and rather weak fire cast stark shadows on the walls of the smithy. Hana was sitting on the bench under the window, wrapped in a blanket. Thorin washed their dinner dishes, and then ventured over and joined her, seated on the other end.

"You prefer sitting over here, rather than over there?" He asked, motioned toward the fire with his head. He appeared a trifle hurt.

She nodded and pulled the blanket tighter. "I just needed some cool air is all. The hot flashes are strong today. Sitting beside the fire is not a good idea tonight. I already feel like I'm on fire," Hana said quietly. The moonlight bathed her in beams of pale, silvery blue light streaming into the window. Thorin touched her right cheek, and it did indeed feel burning hot. Thorin's fingers were cold and firm. He furrowed his brow at her in puzzlement, and the moonlight cut across his forearms.

"The first two days are the toughest." She smiled, not trying to hide her pronounced fatigue. "I will feel right as rain tomorrow or the next day."

Thorin gave a slow nod, and glanced out the window absentmindedly into the dark.

They retired to bed shortly after. Hana was in her nightgown, taking a drink of water from the bowl and dipper Thorin kept next to his bed. He was sitting on a stool, in front of a small, cracked mirror, shaving, trimming his beard short. Hana stopped drinking and watched him over the rim of the dipper. The blade stroked the beard with precision over his jawline, keeping the outline of the beard clean. She wondered how he was able to see clearly what he was doing; the only light was from a waning lantern on the table next to the mirror. He paused to take a damp washcloth to his face. Hana noticed he had not nicked himself, and realized she had not seen shaving cuts on his face since she met him, something she considered fairly impressive.

"Why do you wear your beard short?" she asked sleepily, perched on the edge of the bed. "You may be the only Dwarf I have ever seen with a short beard." She shifted her weight where she sat, in a wasted effort to deflect the nagging cramps.

Thorin set the washcloth down and looked back into the mirror. He assessed his work, apparently the right side was not quite symmetrical to the left. He picked up the knife again ever so carefully and continued, as if she had not spoken. His tone was pensive, he was planning his response.

"Most Dwarves have"…(he paused, short strokes cleaned up the edge of the beard. He turned his head left and right to get an accurate look)…long beards. You are observant to notice that. A few of us wear them short, but it is not a common practice."

Thorin finished and wiped his face clean. He laid the washcloth down on the table. He gave himself a quick, approving glance, then turned around and scooted his stool closer to Hana. They sat knee to knee.

"I wear mine short because, well…out of respect and atonement. I suppose one could say it is similar to the customs of Darûn Adùruth, but one I observe full time." He finished by motioning to himself with his hands; his fingertips grazed his chest.

Hana surveyed his face with marked concern and empathy. Non-spoken conversation seemed to pass between them. He watched her, blinking but silent, as he waited for her reply. "You have much more to be proud of than to atone for," she said with a soft, fierce resolve.

Thorin reached for her right hand and held it a moment. They held their hands together for a few moments, eyes locked as he mulled over her words. She then let go and got into the bed, and he followed suit, kissed her and blew out the candle. The mattress creaked as they situated themselves, and it was soon very quiet. He lay awake for a while after their conversation, thinking on what he had to be proud of. He wanted to believe her statement. Hana lay awake too, thinking on their conversation, but also on the waves of pain in her abdomen.

"Will you be able to sleep tonight?" He said wearily, his voice sluggish.

Hana let out a stressful sigh. "I think so. It's not pain I fear tonight, really. Just dreams."

The following afternoon they hiked into the woods, to Hana's hut. It had been some weeks since they left the solitude of the hut, to trek through the snow. They made the familiar trek through the woods, along the pine needle strewn path, exchanging few words. Hana wanted to stop by there to pick up some things, but she also wondered if and when she should return there to live. Thorin unbolted it from the outside and they both walked in. The air inside was slightly musty smelling, and all was quiet and as they had left it before. Hana retrieved her box of extracts from its spot in the floor and after she took silent inventory and resituated it, sauntered over to where Thorin sat, joining him beside the extinguished hearth. The stones framing it were cold, it was dark and ashy from its long period of no use. Thorin distracted them from their mild fatigue by breaking the silence.

"Remember, that night I came back from my journey to Selfoss, you met me at the door with no boots on?" He laughed as he draped his arms across his bent knees casually. "I was aghast you were barefoot, but something about that sight was so comforting me to after where I had been." Hana moved close to him as they sat together, quietly recollecting memories from that night, and the ones that followed. She felt herself blush.

"I do," she said. "I…I had been waiting all day for that knock at the door. I was relieved when you showed up, even if you were griping at me for having uncovered feet." They both laughed this time, wearily, and Thorin reached for her left hand.

"Then you…you washed my hair for me, and as I recall, we made a pleasant night of it afterward."

Hana lips stretched into an upward crescent, as their fingers folded together. "Very." Her lips curled as she replayed the memory in her mind's eye.

"Thorin?"

"Hmm?"

"What will become of this place, after we marry?" Hana became fixated on her small, empty bed, as she asked him. Thorin concentrated on the wall behind it. He cleared his throat a bit as he thought on his answer, his brows arched slightly as he prepared. Thorin had not thought on the matter much.

"I would like to keep it," she said quickly, before he had a chance to reply. "At least as long as we remain in Eldfell. I know it isn't much, but it holds much meaning for me. This is the first place resembling a home that I have had, I made, on my own. I did not build the structure, but…" her voice trailed off as she searched the space ahead of them with her eyes.

Thorin spoke, his voice rumbly low, unperturbed. His face read with empathy.

A slow shake of his head preceded Thorin's answer. "It has meaning to you. I understand, Hana."

Hana barely nodded in agreement as he spoke again. "Well, not everything need change. My suggestion would be to make the smithy our primary residence, and this one an alternate. Live here in spring and summer, the smithy in the autumn and winter, perhaps. As long as we stay in Eldfell, of course, as you said. Would that be agreeable to you?" he asked.

They both changed their focus from ahead to each other's eyes, abruptly, as if to add a sudden seriousness to the conversation. "You are missing this place, I gather?" he queried. Hana probed the blue eyes looking back at her.

"A bit, yes," she answered honestly.

Both reveled in the serene quiet for a few moments. "Am I a distraction to you?" she suddenly blurted.

Thorin's thick brows knitted together in a concerned frown. He also looked mildly bewildered at her question. "A distraction? Gracious, Hana, no. I hope I have not been giving you that impression. I'm tempted by you, just as any healthy male would be, especially during this abstinence. But you cannot be faulted for that. Is that why you are thinking of coming back here?" he asked, his tone rising with a detectable inflection of worry.

"Partly, yes. Well, more than partly. I just thought…perhaps I should keep a low profile for the remainder of this period. I do not want my presence to be a distraction or a nuisance."

Thorin's look at her did not waver, his gruff voice hardened and sounded stung. He took several deep breaths before replying, the sound of emotional burden apparent. "I do not want you to go. The smithy has felt like more of a home to me than ever because of your presence there. I understand if you need to return to the woods to work, or if in need of a sojourn. I do. Just do not be gone long. Please. You would be missed."

Hana's right brow pointed upward, inducing a confession. He did not confess anything. I hope you are being honest with me, her face read. "If I do come back here, I will not be gone long," she said quietly.

Thorin smoothed an unruly lock of hair from her right cheek, then reached beside him for her hands, and clasped them both in his. The lines in his face were etched with raw feeling. "I want you with me. Forgive me if I get…cross or dour. I will strive to keep it to a minimum." Her small hands felt cold as their palms rubbed together. Thorin took her right hand palm down on his left, as he rubbed his fingertips over her knuckles.

The full moon that marked the beginning of Darûn Adùruth showed itself a week after Thorin asked Hana to marry him, about four days sooner than Thorin had expected. The night that it appeared, Thorin beckoned Hana outside to the front porch of the smithy to witness it. They both observed the silver orb in the night sky, with smoky wisps of cloud intermittently passing in front of it. The empty silence of the later winter night was all they heard, save for the sound of their own breath. No owls were heard in the still, cold night.

"So it begins," he said nonchalantly, as a quiet, frigid wind blew his loose hair backwards, running through his locks like expanding ripples in a pond. The pale moonlight embossed the silver streaks in his dark mane, as if they had been meticulously painted by hand, from root to end. His dark eyes were still cast upward to the moon. "Somewhere, my nephews and other kin are finishing their last pints for a long while. Much to their displeasure, I'm sure."

Hana simpered quietly. "No doubt."

"I often wonder, when thinking about the beginning of this period, what it would have been like, had we Khazad not been driven from Erebor. If none of that had happened. Much would have been different." His arms hung down by his sides, as he gazed fixedly at the sky. He spoke slowly with impact, as if he were speaking to himself.

"I suppose we would still be observing this, remembering the casualties of war. It…is never far from memory." Hana was sure he had more to say, as he bit the inside of his lower lip and groaned with a heavy sigh.

"War has taken from us both." Hana answered, as she folded her arms across her chest under her cloak. She studied the illuminated ring of cloud surrounding the moon.

"Mmmm," he concurred grimly. He shook his head briskly, in wordless acknowledgment.

"How long did you travel from village to village, before you settled here?"

She turned her head to the right and looked at him as he processed her question.

Another deep breath indicated a grim answer. Hana narrowed her eyes in attention.

"Oh, a good many years. Being a travelling blacksmith is possible, but not desirable. Not by me, anyway. A much larger group of Dwarves, including me, my nephews and Dwalin, extended family and friends, made our way through the mountains, trying to eke out livings. We lost many along the way, mostly the elderly. First, we sold or bartered for the bare essentials. There were a few items we could not part with, namely our weapons, and personal, sentimental trinkets. But we learned to keep only what we needed, fast. Travelling with too much weighs one down, as you know."

She murmured slightly. "I do."

"So we had three main trades we knew. As merchants, smiths, and furriers. Fili and Kili were in my company early on. Their mother remained in Ered Luin."

Hana's eyes widened with increased interest. "So your sister, she's alive? Is she there now?" She unfolded her arms and took his hand with her right. Thorin then clasped both his around her right hand.

"Dís? Yes. As far as I know, somewhere in Ered Luin. Another reason the lads are entertaining the thought of going back there." Thorin's heavy brows arched upwards with a detectable hint of resigned disappointment, forming lines on his forehead.

"Will I get to meet her?" Hana asked, somewhat brightly.

Thorin studied her face, lit up with her increased interest. Coming from someone whose biological family was dead and whose adoptive family was far away, he suddenly identified with her eagerness to meet his. Hana felt a twinge of warmth inside as a smile preceded his reply.

"I hope to introduce you to her someday. As my wife," he replied. He kissed the top of her right hand gallantly, then held it close to his lips as he spoke. "You have met others who are close to me, who I trust. I want you to meet her as well. She's my only living sibling. The whereabouts of my father are unknown. My mother is long deceased, as you probably have guessed. I met her a few times before she died, but as I said before I did not know her. Her ring was left with written instructions." His eyes momentarily darted to the large emerald ring hanging round Hana's neck. "So of my immediate blood, Dís and her sons are all I have left."

"I see." Hana pursed her lips reflectively. She allowed the words to sink in, silently, before asking a few moments later, "What is Dís like?"

Thorin lowered her hand and then held it, low between them, by their hips. He glimpsed idly downward, at the hem of her dress. It was rimmed with dirt and the worn edges were lined with frayed threads.

"She is younger than me, but resembles me. Dark haired and bearded. She is strong as four oxen, has been since we were children. She's willful and has a temper, and I learned early on not to pick fights with her, because she always lands her punches. A true Durin."

"So, she has more than one strong family resemblance," Hana interjected, smiling. Thorin nodded, then managed a wry chuckle. "Undeniably," he answered, flashing his teeth at Hana in a grin before continuing.

"She is a good mother to her boys, loves them fiercely. She has been both mother and father to them since her husband passed."

Thorin sat on the front step and patted the space next to him for her. Hana sat beside him and nestled her head under his chin, enjoying the scratchy beard hairs as they rubbed against her. Thorin extended his left arm around her cloaked shoulders.

"Wait, hold on," she said as she unfastened the clasp at the neck and offered him the right side. He pressed up against her and they wrapped the cloak around them, it spread long enough to cover them both. "That's better," Hana said. "You must have been cold." Thorin was wearing a heavy tunic, trousers, and boots, but no other warm garment.

Thorin kissed the top of her head. "A bit, yes," he said. "I'm heating up nicely now, however."

Both of them stared ahead. "Just think, at the end of this period, the worst of winter will be over." He sounded optimistic, as Hana took a deep, pensive breath.

'I am ready for that," she said with slowed emphasis. She watched the woods on the other side of Pigot Lane, vacantly. A distant breeze rustled through the trees, but she kept her eyes alert, in case there was potential danger.

Thorin's eyes glimpsed down to her neck, and he saw the flash of the chain that held his mother's ring.

"Spring, finally. A good time of year for herbalists," she said unceremoniously. She felt Thorin's breath on her head as she spoke into her crown.

He thoughtfully considered the chain on her neck. Then a shy smile showed on his face. "Yes," he replied. "I would think so." He squeezed her closer to him round her back and shoulders.

The night came quickly, with a downpour of freezing rain. Hana watched Thorin drink a cup of herbal tea that she had brewed him for his stomach. She later brewed a cup for herself, in an effort to relieve her cramps. He sat beside the fire sipping it, as she sat in a chair facing the fire, repairing her bow. She took an occasional break to sip her own cup. The sharp rhythm of the freezing rain on the walls was mildly distracting, like the vigorous tapping of overly long fingernails on a tabletop.

"Will you tell the others about us?" Hana blurted out, as she practiced aimed the bow toward the fire. Something in the tip and limb felt off; the tension was not what she was used to and the limb felt wobbly. She adjusted them, her brow furrowed in a frown of concentration.

He nodded and cupped his hands round the mug. He looked down into the liquid, his face relaxed and at peace. "About our intention to marry? Yes, of course," he replied, as he rubbed his thumbs on the ceramic absentmindedly. "I will decide when to make the announcement to them. I want them to be assembled together when we tell them.. It will be soon, obviously. Have you given thought as to a date?" He set the cup down and eyed her earnestly.

Hana set down her bow and the arrow and returned his stare.

"A wedding date? Some thought, yes." Her voice grew a bit lower. The seriousness of the conversation was almost palpable enough for her to touch. Her knees suddenly felt wobbly as her bow limb.

"Perhaps we could hold the ceremony when the trees begin to flower and the honeysuckle blossoms open," he offered. "No snow in sight, no barren trees," he glanced down at his folded hands and his lips stretched slowly into a weary smile.

"You mean, spring?" she asked. It dawned on her quickly that spring was not far off. He eyeballed her with unmistakable certainty. "Yes, I do. The only thing to rival the beauty of spring will be you, zâyunguh."

Hana coyly smiled back, one side of her half bitten lower lip rising, then the other. Her cheeks were flushed pink.

"Something to consider, later spring or early summer would be good times as well," he countered, trying not to sound pressuring. He raised both his hands up in defense. "I can wait, I will wait until you feel ready, of course. Give it some thought, please."

Hana did not want to wait very long. She did not know what the future held for them, but knew that neither of them was young anymore, nor was there any guarantee of how much longer their lives would extend. She also did not want to wait until the next winter or beyond.

Hana regarded Thorin unwaveringly in the eye with pleased acceptance. "I will," she answered him firmly, determinedly.