Disclaimer: I don't own anything - Tolkien gets all the credit.

A/N: I'm SO incredibly grateful for the response to the last chapter – you guys are absolutely fabulous – let's break another record for this story with some fabulous reviews, huh?! Love you guys!

Chapter Eight

Posey shivered as she pulled her robe tighter and refastened the sash at her waist. The morning chill had motivated her to get the fires started from the moment she got out of bed – this winter had been one of the coldest she could remember. Sitting in the kitchen with a steaming cup of peppermint tea, Posey wiggled her toes before the flames, doing everything she could think to warm her frozen feet. Sometimes she really wondered if she was, in fact, completely a Hobbit – her feet were always freezing and no other Hobbit she'd ever met had ever had 'insulation issues' – Posey giggled, "Goodness, insulation issues."

The doorbell rang then, distracting her from her internal conversation about cold feet. "It's not even breakfast! Goodness, Brianne!" Posey stood, regretfully glancing to the fire as she walked toward the door. "I'm coming!" She couldn't imagine why her friend would ring at this hour – hopefully everything was okay with the boys.

Posey's entire body shivered as she grasped the chilled handle on the door – she was NOT looking forward to the cold blast of air that was surely about to hit her face. "Brianne, is everything al-"

Oh. Dear.

Posey screamed. She didn't realize what she was doing until she was standing behind a closed door, breathing heavily. Dwalin was outside. Her husband… He was outside. Wait – had she just slammed the door in his face? Oh dear. Whipping the door open again as fast as possible, Posey looked up at the imposing dwarf who, it seemed, wasn't extremely happy about having the door slammed in his face.

"Dwalin?"

"We're ye expecting someone else, lass?" His voice, the low rumble that she's heard in her dreams for the past year and a half, made her shiver even more than the cold.

"No."

He raised an eyebrow – the one with the scar running through it – and looked at her as if he was waiting for her to do something. "Oh, sorry! Come inside! I'm sure it's freezing out there!"

He walked into the main entry with a swagger that only he could pull off – had she forgotten how proud he was? His size – goodness. Time had certainly dulled her memory! Had he been this big when he'd been in Bag End last? He had a thick traveling cloak on, lined with fine fur, and the sound of rustling metal could be heard with every step he took. His clothing seemed… finer? More regal?

Closing the door to keep out the cold, Posey watched as Dwalin turned to look at her again. This wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind for their reunion – perhaps a dramatic embrace? Or words of undying devotion? All of the sudden, Posey was extremely unsure of herself.

"Would like some tea?" Posey grimaced – of course that's the first thing she'd say. She was a Hobbit after all…

"No."

"Maybe some bacon?"

"No."

"I could make porridge."

"No."

He was taking his cloak off – he was covered in knives and axes and other weapons that surely had names, though Posey didn't know them.

"Well, it's rather early for it, but I have ale in the pantry."

"I'm not hungry or thirsty, lass."

Posey knew that her blush was coming on full force - What did she say now? She stood, wearing a robe and her nightclothes, looking on as Dwalin slowly removed the weapons from his waist, thighs, and back. Even without them, her husband was still an impressive sight. Posey was beginning to think that he was, in fact, larger than before. His waist was trimmer than she recalled, but his arms and shoulders had gone beyond 'large' – she could even see the veins of his forearms – not an ounce of fat was on him, surely.

Placing the last of his weaponry on the floor, Dwalin looked back to his wife, taking in the sight of blonde curls, blue eyes, and softness that he'd spent the past months thinking about. If anything, she was fairer than before. His braid, while a bit loose, still stood out proudly among the curls that surrounded her face. She was blushing – he seemed to always have that effect on her.

Dwalin thought back to all of the times he'd imagined their reunion – He hadn't thought to find her in her bedclothes, and he certainly hadn't thought that she'd close the front door upon seeing him. Smirking as she twisted her hands together in obvious discomfort, Dwalin took a step toward her. "This wasn't exactly the welcome I was hoping for, lass." She gasped – his little wife, Mahal help him, blushed even deeper.

"What exactly were you hoping for?" Her voice was weak, that same high-pitched squeak that he remembered from when he'd had her alone the one other time they'd been together. He'd replayed every word of their limited conversations over the past year – to actually hear and see her again, and have her on the opposite side of the room, was making him impatient.

What was he hoping for?

"Come over here, taerin, and I'll show ye." Her entire body jolted, her face flaming all the more in a violent blush across her cheeks - She was really quite too innocent for him. "I'll not ask again, lass."

Her approach was slow – as if she were walking toward a warg or mountain troll. Perhaps it was wise of her to be hesitant, but that wouldn't save her much. As soon as his wife was within arm's reach, Dwalin grabbed her by the arms, lifting her so that her face was level with his own. Her feet dangled by his knees, her scent – sunflowers – overwhelmed him. "Ye'll kiss me now, taerin."

Oh.

Dear.

Oh, Dear.

Posey's hands grasped Dwalin's forearms as he held her to his chest. She could feel his breath on her face and his chest heaving against her own. "Ye'll kiss me now, taerin."

He didn't really give her a choice, she supposed, as his mouth attacked hers in a rather violent embrace. Posey was overcome by the feel of his beard against her throat, his lips moving against her own, his hands clasped around her arms, the sounds he made when she began to kiss him back.

They kissed until Posey could no longer breathe – It felt like forever.

Pulling back, Dwalin set her on her feet and moved his hands to her hair. "This will never do, little one." Posey, still reeling from their kiss, wasn't sure what Dwalin even meant by that until the metal clasp was pulled from her braid and Dwalin slowly rewound her hair into a neat plait. His face, still close to own, was a mask of concentration as his fingers gently rearranged her hair and refastened the metal clasp.

"Thank you." Posey muttered quietly as Dwalin pulled away and began to glance about the hallway. He moved quickly when his eyes landed on the pack she'd made in preparation for their journey, picking up the leather bag and sifting through the contents. Posey got nervous as Dwalin grunted at the sight of her periwinkle blue dress – Perhaps dwarves really don't have fancy occasions? He flipped the pack over, looking at the outside, then opened it back up and sifted again through her clothes.

"Lass, are ye planning on just bringing clothes? What about food? Herbs? Supplies for the journey?"

Fidgeting slightly, Posey tried not to sound too nervous, "I've never traveled anywhere beyond the Shire, Dwalin. I wasn't sure what I should I bring and I thought that you'd have the rest." Dwalin grunted again, dropped her bag to the ground and walked through the sitting room toward the kitchen, not saying a word.

Posey felt like crying. This hadn't gone at all like she'd hoped.

Dwalin stood in the pantry, gathering food that would last during the journey to Ered Luin. His little wife hadn't the slightest idea of what to prepare, which was a little disappointing, but he supposed it was to be expected. After pulling several cheeses and different breads from the shelves, Dwalin walked into the kitchen and dumped them onto the table by the fire. He glanced around, expecting to see his wife – she hadn't followed him as he anticipated, "Lass! We need to wrap the food in cloth and ye'll need to leave some of those dresses behind to save room!"

Turning back into the pantry, Dwalin spent a few moments looking for dried meats before giving up, thinking it would quicker to have Posey find what they needed, "Lass, can ye come here? We need to be off soon."

Standing still for a moment, Dwalin didn't hear her approach. He looked into the kitchen and out into the hallway – she wasn't there. "Lass?" Nothing. Heading toward the entry way where he'd last seen her, Dwalin heard a sniffle – a hiccup. He stopped to listen. He heard muffled noises – small squeaks, sniffles, more hiccups. Walking forward again, Dwalin wasn't prepared for what he saw.

She was weeping.

Standing in the exact spot she'd been when he left the room, wearing a pale yellow robe with her demure nightgown peeking out at the bottom, her face in hands, shoulders shaking, Posey was weeping. Dwalin was a warrior – he'd fought battles against many foes, been outnumbered and overpowered on countless occasions – but the sight of his little wife crying was by far the most frightening thing he'd ever seen. "Lass?"

"My name is Posey! Not Lass!"

Dwalin stepped back in shock as his wife's screech hit him like a punch. He'd seen her tear-stained face for just a moment before she covered it again and collapsed onto the floor, her head in her hands, elbows on her knees. Her shoulders were shaking violently, Posey's weeping now turning into violent sobs.

"I know ye'r name, lass." Dwalin didn't know what else to say. Dwarven women didn't cry.

"Just go away!"

"Taerin, be reasonable. We haven't much time."

"I don't even know what that means!"

"It means we haven't any time for this!" He barked back.

Dwalin was getting impatient. They weren't more than a day or two ahead of the rest of the group, and Bag End was more than half a day off course, so speed was of the essence. If they took too long to leave, they'd have to make the rest of the journey to Ered Luin alone – which wasn't an option. Posey needed to be protected.

"That's not what I mean!" She was really quite cute when she was upset, Dwalin thought, as her red face peeked out from behind her hands.

"What do ye mean, then?"

"I don't know what tae-reen means! Don't call me things if I don't know what they mean! It's rude!"

At least the yelling seemed to calm her crying. Dwalin could handle angry. He couldn't handle crying.

"Is that what ye're upset about? That I called you my taerin?"

"No! That's not why I'm upset! I'm upset because you march into my home after more than a year, kiss me, and then march off spouting orders like you're not even happy to see me! I've been waiting for so long! And where is my brother?!"

Posey was breathing heavily as she starred up at her husband from her spot on the floor. Her tears had subsided, but she was certain that she must look frightful. Dwalin had an odd look on this face – a cross between frustration and humor. He thought this was funny?

"And I don't think that this is at all funny!" The more she yelled, the better she felt. Perfect.

Dwalin crossed his arms over her chest and the humor left his face. "Are ye done yelling, taerin?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"No, I will not."

How dare he! After more than a year!

"Why not?!" Posey was not going to stop yelling – she was starting to feel fantastic. Stories of her mother's temper came back to her suddenly – Belladonna Baggins would surely be proud of her daughter's spunk.

"Because I waited 170 years to call someone that, and now that I can, I don't plan on stopping!" Posey shrunk back from the sound of Dwalin's yell. He was far more intimidating when he was angry, and the fact that he was towering over her far more than normal wasn't helping.

"Then tell me what it means!"

"It means that ye're my love! Now get up off of the floor and contain that mouth of ye'rs! I've had enough of this!"

Oh.

Oh.

"What?" Posey's voice was just a whisper now, all steam and fire leaving it as the impact of her husband's words hit her. "Your love?"

"Yes, lass." His voice was calmer too, and that weird frustrated, humor look was back on his face.

"Why didn't you just say that from the start?"

Dwalin sighed, "Because, lass, I don't know many that can't speak Khuzdul. I'll be sure to keep that in mind when I speak to ye." He walked to her then and helped her up off of the floor. "If ye're quite done with the hysterics, I'll tell ye of ye're brother while we prepare for the journey."

"Bilbo's alright, isn't he?"

"Aye, he is with Gandalf at Erebor. They'll make the journey to the Shire after the snow melts. The mountain passes are dangerous this time of year."

Posey was confused. "Then why are we going now? Won't the passes still be dangerous when we reach them?"

"We're not going to Erebor, taerin. I plan to lead the dwarves of Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains."

Confusion continued to grow - "I thought that you would want to stay with Thorin in Erebor."

The immediate change in Dwalin's demeanor was almost frightening. "Lass, let's go to the pantry and work as we speak. The tale of Thorin Oakenshield is a long one - One that just ended."

A/N: Please let me know what you think! This chapter was a beast to write! :)

Translations:

"taerin" = Dwarvish word for true love, 'deep' love

"Khuzdul" = the Dwarvish language