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

A/N: You guys have been SO great! All of the reviews are really appreciated :) I've been really motivated by your kind words – I've had a lot of feedback about the upcoming chapter and what some of you expect… I hope this meets your expectations!

Chapter Twelve

Posey paced the sitting room anxiously. She'd been alone for several hours now, and after successfully navigating the particulars of dwarven plumbing, she'd finally managed to take a long needed bath. Feeling a fool, Posey realized half way through cleaning her hair that she'd forgotten to take her travel bag with her when she'd dismounted Minty. Frightened at the thought that Dwalin would arrive and she'd have nothing clean to cover herself, she'd run soaking from the bathroom to the bedchambers in search of a gown or shirt she could use.

Now, with her damp hair drying by the heat of a small fire in the hearth, Posey was wearing what she assumed was one of Dwalin's (or maybe Balin's) old shirts as a nightgown. The shoulders of the shirt had been tailored so wide that the seams almost reached her elbows. There was also a rather large robe in one of the chests she'd searched, though Posey was certain that this was not her husband's – it was of a fine velvet material that Posey couldn't imagine Dwalin ever voluntarily wearing. She'd put in on at first, but the robe was so heavy and large that she'd given up on modesty and taken it off.

Completely unaware of where she was or how to find out where Dwalin had gone off to, Posey had become a bit frustrated. She never appreciated the feeling of helplessness. A guide would be required just to find her way back to the main hall! Did dwarves purposefully design their cities with confusion in mind?

Sighing heavily and looking to the walls of the room again, Posey focused on the tapestry that detailed a dragon sitting atop a mountain. Smaug? Dwarven artwork was truly beautiful. Perhaps she could learn to make cloth like this?

In Posey's limited knowledge, she knew that dwarves were nearly obsessed with their crafts and occupations. It would be beneficial, she thought, if she could find something useful or practical to do with her time. She had no skill with metals or jewels, the major staples of dwarven culture, but there must be something that she could be successful at. Gardening had been a favorite pastime, but with no natural light and a home deep within a mountain, Posey assumed that skill would be of little use.

Turning again to look about the room, Posey nearly screamed in fright – at some point during her contemplations, Dwalin had arrived at last.

He wasn't made for this. The meeting of uzbads had been an exercise of his control – it had taken all that Dwalin possessed to not strike down Gormr Doursmith where he stood. The council had been driven to distraction, many of his old friends questioning how he could have possibly bound himself to a Hobbit – a creature of which many had never even seen. The fact that she was "Bilbo the Burglar's" sister was of little consequence.

In the end, Dwalin had simply told the group that unless they planned to share his bed as well, they'd better depart from conversation about his wife. Grumbling and clearly displeased, topics relating to the departure for Erebor had slowly picked back up – though Dwalin noticed that Gormr has seemed inexplicably pleased with himself. Coward.

One benefit to the meeting, however, was the knowledge of who was planning, or at least considering to, remain in Ered Luin. Thorin's Halls needed as many dwarves as possible, and beginning the following day, Dwalin had his work cut out for him.

As for now, Dwalin needed to rest.

Walking through the pathways of the only home he'd ever truly known, Dwalin was filled with a deep sense of emptiness. By all accounts, he wasn't ever meant to return here. The quest of Thorin Oakenshield could easily have killed him. If Thorin had lived, Dwalin would have remained at his side in Erebor. The possibility that he, Dwalin, would live and Thorin would die… Dwalin hadn't ever really considered it. His dead King and friend had been such a vital part of his life for as long as he could remember... Shaking his head in an attempt to remove the thoughts, Dwalin sped his pace – he had no use for idle feelings of a life he'd never lead again.

The walk from the council chamber to the home of his elder brother was a long one – Balin had chosen to live in the lower halls where he could have better access to the forges. Dwalin's own chambers were much further up the mountain, above the main hall. Posey would like it there better, he thought, as there were more people and easier access to the outside. For now, though, Balin's rooms would give them the space they needed.

Reaching his goal, Dwalin opened the main chamber door and immediately saw his wife. She was standing directly ahead in the central sitting room. She had the most charming frock on – one of his own shirts. She stood facing away from him, the light of a fire reflecting warmly on her hair and the skin of her arms and legs… much more of her legs was visible than he'd seen before, even though his wife tended to wear less modest attire than a dwarven woman.

She was studying something on the wall, her fingers slowly shifting through her drying hair – she must have bathed. Dwalin moved slowly forward, not wanting her to see him just yet. Normally, she was slightly nervous in his presence. Right now, though, she was relaxed and unguarded. She was charming.

A few silent moments passed before she slowly turned around. She jumped in fright when her eyes reached him, causing him to chuckle. "How do ye like the rooms, taerin?"

She was breathing heavy, presumably from the scare of seeing him, but she nodded. "They are lovely." Her voice was high pitched – almost strangled. He'd heard her voice like that before. She was nervous again.

He walked to her, the sight of her wearing his clothing was too tempting to ignore. When he was close enough, he reached out and touched the rolled up sleeve, "Where did ye find this?"

"Dis brought your things here." Posey's blush was a striking shade of pink.

"Aye? I wrote to her about ye but I didn't think she'd have time to do much."

Nodding again, Posey glanced down toward her hands which were grasped tightly to her stomach, white knuckled.

"Are ye alright, taerin?"

"I'm fine."

"Lass."

"Truly. I'm fine."

Looking up into the pale blue eyes of her husband, Posey tried in vain to smile. Why was she so nervous? Despite her assurances to the contrary, Posey knew he didn't think she was fine. Looking about his face, Posey was suddenly distracted by the fact that Dwalin was missing a part of his left ear. Why hadn't she noticed that before?

"What happened to your ear?"

"What?"

"Your ear, you're missing a part of it."

He chuckled at her – something he seemed to do a lot around her – and reached a large hand up to touch the rounded remains of the ear in question. "It was bitten off."

"Bitten off?"

"Aye."

"Who would bite your ear off?"

"An orc." She gasped. "Not to worry, lass. Later, it found my axe in its skull."

"Oh." Posey reached up to touch his ear as well, moving his hand to examine the old wound. He'd put metal clamps – decorative ones, she assumed – above and below the bite mark. Dwarves had rather large ears, but Dwalin's bulky mass of hair made his ears appear smaller than most… that, or perhaps the fact that his body was much larger than the average dwarf. "Do you have many scars?"

"Aye, lass."

"More scars than tattoos?"

Dwalin outright laughed this time. He'd been ridiculously amused during their journey to Ered Luin when he'd learned of her fascination with body art. She'd wanted to know exactly how many tattoos he had and what they all meant… when he'd mentioned that she couldn't see all of his tattoos when he still wore clothing, she'd quickly changed the subject.

"More scars, I think," he replied once his laughter calmed. "Did ye want to see all of those too?"

His voice had dropped and he was watching her closely. She didn't know what to say, so Posey merely stood there, trying not to appear like a frightened child – though she certainly felt like one. Dwalin stepped even closer to her, his hands tracing the lines of her arms.

"Perhaps ye will, once I've taken a proper bath." Posey giggled, trying to play off her nervousness. His hands reached her face then, stroking her cheeks with his massive thumbs. "Go lay down, taerin, I'll come to ye once I've cleaned up."

He walked toward the bathroom then, leaving Posey feeling as though she were about to explode. Come to her? … She knew what that meant. "Oh, dear," she whispered, her heart beating so frantically in her chest that she couldn't move for a moment. She heard the bathroom door shut, followed several moments later by the sound of the tub filling with water. "Oh, dear."

She bolted out of the sitting room and down the hallway that led to the bed chambers. There was a larger room at the far end, one she had silently designated as the 'master chambers' during her earlier explorations. The bed in this room was wider than the others, and far bigger than any bed she'd ever slept in before. The blankets on it were made of fine velvet (a favorite fabric of Balin's, she supposed) and the pillows were filled with an abundance of feathers.

Leaping upon the bed quickly, Posey threw the covers down and shoved her body beneath them. In all honesty, she felt near to tears. Many of her friends had mentioned embarrassed conversations with their mothers about the "duties of a wife" – Posey's own mother had died long before Posey reached maidenhood, so any knowledge she had on the subject of the marriage bed was limited at best.

How dreadfully inadequate she would be! What if she was supposed to do something first? Did she leave her nightgown on, or take it off? Leave it on, certainly. Did she bind her hair back, like she normally would at night, or leave it down? Did it matter?

Shaking like a leaf, Posey used her fingers to pull her hair back in a loose plait, with only her marriage braid remaining apart from it… then, thinking better of it, Posey removed the plait and left her hair free. "For goodness sakes, I'm going mad!"

Dwalin scrubbed himself quickly, not wishing to waste any unnecessary time. He'd been married to Posey for over a year – it was about time they made their bond official. Feeling the nerves of a boy, Dwalin dunked his head below the water of the tub, rubbing his hands though his hair and beard roughly. The water was quickly becoming soiled, so Dwalin let the water out, only to refill it again.

It took longer than he'd prefer, but he was determined to enter Posey's bed without any filth clinging to him – She would smell of flowers, he knew, so she deserved at least a clean husband. Standing after a while, Dwalin shook water from him and began the process of drying his beard. As he squeezed and wiped the water away, Dwalin couldn't help but notice the scars and tattoos on his chest, stomach, and thighs.

He wasn't a vain dwarf, but he knew his stature was impressive. He spent more than eighty years studying the art of war, battling his way up the ranks. Many battles brought scars and heavy muscles – both of which he had in plenty.

Posey was, by contrast, a petite creature with a rounded form. Dwalin expected her to be soft. She'd likely have unblemished skin, too. "For goodness sakes," he muttered under his breath, "I'm thinking like a wee lad!"

Wrapping the bath towel he'd used on his hair and beard snugly around his waist, Dwalin hurried from the bathroom and walked toward the bed chambers. The flickering light from a candle only came from one, where he assumed his little wife was waiting from him. Taking a deep breath to regain control of himself, Dwalin walked toward the light, eager to greet his wife properly.

Posey lay on the bed, huddled beneath the covers facing away from him. Her shoulders were shaking, and for a moment Dwalin thought she was giggling, as she did often. It wasn't until he heard a muffled cry that he knew she was weeping.

Groaning silently, Dwalin walked to the side of the bed and pulled the covers back, Revealing Posey's quaking form. "Lass?"

She jumped up when he spoke, turning slightly to look at him. "You startled me! Again!"

"Are ye crying?" Dwalin didn't see tears, but her eyes were glistening. "What's the matter?"

Posey's face crumbled a bit and turned away again, mumbling something into the pillows. Struggling to hear her, Dwalin leaned in closer, "Taerin? I can't hear ye, lass."

Posey's body stilled as she let out a loud sigh. "I said," she sighed again, "that I don't know what to do." She quickly burrowed her face back into the pillows. Is that all?

"Ye'r a maiden, right? Lass, stop it." Posey had let out a groan of embarrassment. "I don't expect to be an expert. In fact, I'd be rather upset if ye were." She groaned again, but this time she looked up at him.

"My mother passed when I was a little girl, Dwalin! I had no one to tell me! I don't even know how this works!"

Slipping beneath the blankets quickly and gathering her to him, Dwalin did as she'd told him to do back on the road in the Shire – he held her. She seemed to relax after a few moments, so Dwalin simply lay there, waiting for her.

After a time, Posey felt herself relaxing into the embrace of her husband. He had stopped talking, which was a great relief, and now his hands were rubbing her back as he held her close. Posey smiled and snuggled even closer to him, thinking he felt much warmer than normal.

Suddenly, something occurred to her. He was warmer than normal for a very alarming reason. "Dwalin, where are your clothes?"

"I haven't got any on, lass."

This, of course, meant that Posey's hands were now resting directly on Dwalin's chest. Her legs were touching his. Her cheek was resting against his naked shoulder. "Oh."

"Is that a problem, taerin?"

"Umm," again unsure of what to say, Posey improvised, "I don't think so, no."

"Ye said ye didn't know what to do. Would ye like me to show ye?"

Before she had an opportunity to answer, Posey suddenly found herself caught up in an aggressive kiss that had her back arching and her head swimming. Dwalin's hands were venturing further southward, caressing her with a boldness that brought a load groan to her lips.

Leaning over her and breaking the kiss, Posey felt Dwalin tug something away. His mouth and hands returned to her quickly, causing a dizzying pleasure that cleared Posey's mind of any prior reservations. If this was what the marriage bed entailed, Posey would be sure to lay in it as often as possible… Oh. Dear.

Breathing heavily, Dwalin was now perched above her, his body blocking out almost all of the candlelight. "Taerin, I've waited for ye for a long time."

"I know."

"Will ye touch me now?"

Deciding that she'd rather touch him over doing anything else ever again, Posey reached her small hands up to Dwalin's face, one tracing the large scar that ran down his forehead, the other sweeping across his cheek. "Do you have a neck under all of this hair?"

He laughed. "I think so, though I haven't seen it in years."

Moving further down, Posey's hands glided along his broad shoulders, then underneath his beard to touch his chest. Feeling the warm skin, she traced faint scars with her fingertips, until she accidentally dragged a fingernail across one of his nipples, causing him to gasp.

"Sorry!"

Chuckling, Dwalin lowered his face to hers again. "No lass, it's alright."

He was kissing her again, his hands at her waist, slowly pulling on the fabric of her nightgown. Posey, so caught up in the kiss, barely felt the material moving up her thighs and was quite shocked when her arms were suddenly yanked upwards as the shirt was pulled from her.

Naked as the day she was born, Posey felt overwhelmed – hot, breathless, and dizzy. Dwalin was staring at her chest, his hands roughly grasping her at the waist to keep her from moving. "Ye're more beautiful than all the gems of Erebor, taerin."

Posey wasn't sure what motivated her, but she needed Dwalin closer – she wanted to crawl up inside of him. Pulling him down to her, Posey kissed him with a fierceness that shocked them both. Dwalin growled in pleasure, diving into the kiss with an ardent need that made Posey forget anything and everything else – the world had been reduced the two of them, on this bed, holding each other.

Dwalin hands touched each of her thighs then, pulling them apart so that he could rest himself on top of her in an intimate way that would have mortified her an hour ago – Now it only fueled the fire growing deep in her belly. The sheer size of him forced her legs up and apart, her knees bent around his waist.

Roughly dragging his mouth away from hers, Dwalin flexed his body forward slightly, brushing against her firmly and causing her to gasp at the warm flood of feeling that the movement caused. "Is ye'r body telling you what happens next, taerin?"

"I think so," Posey replied in a whisper, not knowing at all what was to happen next, just knowing that it had to happen – otherwise she'd certainly die from need.

Absorbing everything in that she possibly could, Posey dragged her hands down her husband's back, feeling even more scars and feverishly thinking that it'd be lovely to kiss them. Dwalin's face was now at her neck, his lips and teeth trailing fire across the sensitive skin there. Posey was so preoccupied with the feel of Dwalin's lips, that the touch of his fingers in her most delicate place didn't register until after they'd already begun a subtle kneading that caused her eyes to rollback and her body to shudder.

"Or kvinn, or azgal," Dwalin whispered at her neck, "Ut baraz an karaz azamar." Then, while shifting his weight, her husband touched her face and forced her to look into his eyes. Still whispering, Dwalin's weight shifted. Posey felt a pressure build between her legs, stretching her. "Or taerin." Pain hit then, causing Posey's body to tense and for her cry out in shock. Dwalin's voice became so quiet then that she couldn't make out whether he spoke in common or khuzdul, but his tone was soothing, comforting.

His body had ceased to move, and after several moments, Posey shifted beneath him. The movement caused a spark of something wonderful, encouraging Posey to move again – then again. Dwalin began to shift and move with her, creating an intoxicating rhythm. It was a long while before either was ready to stop.

Translations:

Or kvinn, or azgal: My lady, my treasure.

Ut baraz an karaz azamar: Our bond will endure forever.

Or taerin: My love

A/N: Well? Thoughts? Please review :) The rating adjustment might be unwelcome to some – if it's a huge issue, I'll make further edits depending on feedback… but Dwalin's been waiting long enough and he deserved some lovin' – don't you think?