OK, friends and readers, this is the last chapter. Enjoy and please review for the last time!

Chapter 7: Precious Memories

Sliva woke before soft pink light touched the grayness of night. She had never felt so cosy and warm. Nights were still cool, and she pulled the warm blankets under her chin and snuggled against her pillow. She heard a rhythmic thumping.

It must be raining still.

She yawned and settled back to sleep when her pillow shifted, and she froze. With a shaking hand, she reached over and lightly felt Thorin's chest.

Oh Mahal, no! How did this ever happen? I'm going to die! He can't wake now; he just can't!

She opened her eyes wider, now completely alert, and realized that she was snuggled on his shoulder, his arm wrapped securely around her. The last thing she remembered was that he started running a fever late into the night, and she spent at least an hour wiping him down with cool clothes. Then he groaned as his teeth started chattering, and she grew desperate. Finally, disregarding propriety and her own honor, she climbed into the bed to warm him until he stopped shaking.

I must have fallen asleep. I was so tired.

The question now was how to extricate herself without waking him or the boys in the next room.

I will simply die if anyone sees or hears of this!

Though she supposed that she would be the envy of Ered Luin if others found out, she wasn't about to be the talk of the colony. She had lived a quiet life after her husband died, quiet but honorable, and she wasn't about to besmirch his good name by appearing to dally with the prince.

Tongues will wag if the princes or my sons find out.

Slowly, very slowly, she pulled away, but he refused to let her go and even pulled her closer. She flushed dark red to feel him kiss her the top of her head.

"Don't," he rumbled softly. "Stay." She felt her whole body grow weak.

If only he felt that way in daylight.

Carefully, she ducked under his arm and bunched up the blankets to take her place. He immediately pulled them closer and smiled softly. Part of her wanted to sneak back into his embrace, but she was only there to keep him well and safe, and her job was done. The fever had broken, and she was no longer needed.

Not needed, nor wanted. By him or any other dwarf.

She sighed just as softly as he did and edged to the side of the bed, taking care to get up without a creak of the mattress. Looking back, she saw him sleeping peacefully and knelt by his side. She gently brushed the hair off his face and cupped his cheek. She thought herself a fool, but she wanted to be a fool for just a moment longer. Leaning over, she kissed him lingering on the lips and corner of his mouth.

Then she tiptoed to the door and slipped outside. Arranging her hair into a tidy bun, she straightened her clothes and put away the blankets that she had laid out on the sofa. On second thought, she shook out her hair, stretched out on the sofa, and threw the blankets over her. She had just yawned when a door opened and Fili peeked out.

"Good morning, Auntie Sliva," he whispered. "How's Uncle Thorin?"

"He's still sleeping," she said.

He tilted his head and pursed his lips.

"How do you know?"

Sliva yawned again and rubbed her eyes to cover the furious blush that stole over her cheeks.

"Well, he's not up, so I assume, he's still sleeping. Go back to bed, Fili, it's too early—and don't wake him!" she said sternly after Fili started turning the knob. "Let him be."

Getting up and feigning sleepiness, she stretched and coiled her hair back into the tidy bun. Then her hands set about the morning tasks while her mind recalled her blissful night's sleep in the arms of a prince. She revived the fire and put two more logs to nestle in the hot embers. Then she set a tea-pot on the rack above. Quickly mixing and kneading out sweet dough, she had Fili and Kili roll it out into long strips while Lifir and Modrin carefully spooned cream out of several resting milk pans.

"I want to churn this time!" Kili shouted. Fili sent him a sour glance.

"You spilled too much of the buttermilk last time," he admonished. "But," he said after looking at his brother's increasingly red face, "I'll hold the lid so you can have a few turns."

Kili jumped up and down and ran to get the butter churn. Sliva coiled the dough and sprinkled cinnamon on top.

"Oo, can I put on the honey?" Lifir asked. She shook her head.

"They have to brown a bit first, but then you may."

Then she rolled up some salt pork to fry and added scrambled eggs into the mix. Wiping a smidge of flour off her cheek with the back of her hand, she bustled over to the tea kettle, and crumbled some tea leaves and cinnamon into little cheesecloth squares. Then she tied them with thread.

"Fili, check and see if your uncle's awake."

He ran to the door and carefully opened it to see Thorin stirring.

"He's up!" Fili shouted.

"Lower your voice or you'll wake the dead," she said from years of practice.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she took a deep breath and approached the door slowly.

I mustn't give anything away.

"Good morning, my lord," she said, not wanting to say his name lest she put too much feeling into it. "How are you feeling?"

Thorin rubbed one hand over his face and gingerly felt his ribs. His black hair was tangled and wavy from sweat and his eyes heavy-lidded from sleep.

"Better," he said in a gravelly voice. "I thank you for your ministrations."

She closed her eyes briefly and tried hard to keep her tears behind her eyes. Ministrations. Of course, her efforts wouldn't mean anything more in the clear light of day.

"'Twas nothing, my lord," she said softly. She held out a plain robe, which didn't cover him completely but was better than nothing.

He sniffed the air, and his face brightened.

"Uh, I'm making scrambled eggs with salt pork and honey-cinnamon buns," she said. "Do you feel you can get up, or would you like me to bring you a plate?"

He frowned and braced his hands to swing his legs over the side. She rushed to help him, but he waved her aside. With several grunts and groans, he maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed and grabbed the bed post to get to his feet. She hovered around him with her arms out just in case.

"I need no help now, my lady," he said formally. She felt something twist her insides.

It's like he doesn't know me, like we shared nothing. But, then again, we didn't, not really.

He stepped forward and stopped suddenly to brace his ribs with his good arm. She moved in to steady him, and he leaned forward, catching the scent of jasmine in her hair. He frowned and leaned forward again. Then he waved his hand for her to go in front of him.

"I'm well enough now," he said.

She nodded and bustled off to finish breakfast. He slowly walked into the kitchen to see a marvel of industry. Fili was churning butter while Kili and Lifir were brushing honey on the buns. Modrin was on the stairs, lugging covered milk jugs back to the cellar. The whole house looked tidy and smelled wonderful. He remembered his boast that he could do as well as Dis while she was gone and pressed his lips together. While his time here wasn't a total defeat, he had to admit that there was more to raising dwarflings and keeping house than he thought.

"Sit here next to Aunt Sliva, Uncle Thorin," Fili said with embarrassing emphasis. She put one elbow on the table and her hand over her face while he looked around confused until he saw Modrin entering with two full plates and a big smile on his face.

"My lord," he said, and he hefted the plate with a flourish, "my lady."

She glared at him, but he grinned brightly and ran to get the others. The four lined up with big smiles to watch them eat, and she wanted to fall through the floor from humiliation. Thankfully, Dis' description of her brother's astuteness when it came to matters of the heart was still spot on, and he dug into his food without any understanding of the plot unfolding before him.

"Is the food good, Uncle Thorin?" Fili asked.

"Aye."

"Really good?"

"Aye, lad."

"Would you like to eat like this every day?"

She groaned softly and ate her breakfast as fast as she could to get back to the kitchen. Dropping her fork on the table, she half-stood before Lifir pushed her back in the chair.

"You still have to drink your tea, mama."

Huddling around the steaming cup, she refused to look up.

"Do you like being here, Your Highness?" Modrin piped up from the rear.

Thorin looked up and around. For some reason, they wouldn't let him eat in peace. Sliva's face was partly hidden by the steam rising from her cup, and he sat back with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

"All right, that's enough now," she said at last. "Help me with the dishes. That's a good lad," she added when Modrin carried the platters to the kitchen. "Mind you don't chip them."

Thorin felt his stinging ribs and then his arm. It smelled of pungent salve, but that wasn't the smell that tickled the edges of his memory. He shook his head and scraped his plate. The food was good.

After Thorin got himself into the chair by the fire, Sliva had Lifir run back to her house.

"Get one of papa's tunics that I keep in the chest," she said in a hushed whisper. "Prince Thorin needs something to wear."

He nodded and returned shortly with a crimson tunic with dark blue embroidery. She fingered the linen made soft from many washings and held it to her breast. A faint woodsy smell still clung to the fabric, and she knew that once Thorin wore it, another piece of her husband would be gone.

"Here you are, my lord," she said looking at the floor while she handed him the tunic.

Thorin started in surprise and then frowned.

"This was Lodar's?"

She nodded with her head down.

He took a deep breath and held the tunic carefully. While he was all that Dis described him to be when it came to women folk, he was acutely sensitive to acts of sacrifice, and he recognized one when he saw it.

"I won't take away from his memory," he said, holding the shirt back out to her.

Gasping in surprise, she didn't know what to do. This was unexpected, and she felt uncertain of the right course. She had several other shirts of Lodar's, but this somehow marked a turning point in her life. The chest and all that was in it was her past. Perhaps it was time to live in the present and hope for the future. Pushing the tunic back into his hands, she smiled warmly.

"No, please," she said softly. "Our family would be honored if you'd wear it."

His eyes held hers to decide if she was simply being polite or felt beholden to him in some way. Seeing nothing but a wish to help, he inclined his head and painfully shrugged the tunic on. She helped pull it over his head, and her fingers brushed his shoulders and torso.

"Much better," he said, and she nodded crisply.

"Now I'll see to the kitchen," and she turned to go, but his hand caught hers.

"I would be remiss not to thank you for all you have done, my lady," he said. His lips twisted as he attempted to humble himself just a bit. "It seems that there is more to keeping house and raising dwarflings than I thought."

Her green eyes sparkled in amusement, and she pushed a strand of her dark, red hair behind her ear.

"I'll never tell," she said with a playful curl of her lips. He stared at her for a moment and then flashed a grin that had her looking anywhere but his face.

Suddenly, the door flew open and Dis marched in.

"So it's true then," she declared with flashing eyes. "Thorin Oakenshield Durin! I leave you for a few days and you nearly kill yourself!"

He rolled his eyes, but she wouldn't have it.

"Don't you dare," she said. "You dueled with Dwalin only to break some ribs and then fought him again just to say you won?"

Both he and Sliva hid their smiles at Dwalin's apparently successful efforts while Dis stood there seething.

"I see you're feeling better," he said calmly.

"Aye," she said, "I was until I heard what happened."

Then she looked around the clean and tidy house still smelling of cinnamon, and her scowl faded.

"Did you do all this yourself?" she asked in disbelief.

He hemmed and hawed before he shook his head.

"I would never have gotten beyond the first day if not for Sliva here. I stand corrected," and he bowed his head. "These few days have humbled me."

His sister snorted.

"Well, that's not going to last long."

Sliva shook her head and tried not to show her sadness that her little fantasy of a family was over. Smiling gamely, she turned to Dis and hugged her. Dis thanked her friend profusely, and the two hugged again.

"I'll be going now," Sliva said with a wistful note in her voice. "Your Highness," and she curtsied gracefully.

He frowned at first but then dipped his head.

"Come Lifir, Modrin," she said with her back straight. "It's time to go."

They walked away with Fili and Kili calling out to them to arrange the next adventure.

"I wish she could stay," Fili said.

Kili stole a look at his uncle.

"Me too."

Dis gazed at Thorin curiously. He seemed lost in thought, but soon enough, he shook himself and stood painfully.

"Thank you, brother," Dis said affectionately. "I am much better thanks to you."

He held her face lovingly and kissed her on her cheek. She was surprised by his tender display and threw her arms around him.

"I love you very much, you know," she said.

"And I you."

For the next week, Sliva walked through her daily routine and usual chores in a daze. All went back to normal as if it had never happened, and sometimes she wondered if it did. Since there was no one to share it with, it didn't seem real. Then came a knock at the door. She opened it and stepped back in surprise. It was Balin, and he held a small, ornately carved cedar chest.

"For you, my lady," he said simply and then turned and left.

She held the chest with shaking hands and went into her bedroom and shut the door. She sank on the edge of the bed and took a breath before opening the chest. Lodar's shirt lay on the top. She caught it to her chest and buried her nose in it. It now smelled of sweat and musk and a faintly of smoke. She breathed deeply. Then she noticed a leather pouch. She loosened the tie and shook it. Out fell a delicate necklace of emeralds and amethysts. It was beautifully wrought with tiny, white gold links and a teardrop amethyst. Her mouth fell open, and she held the necklace up to the light where it shimmered and sparkled. Then she saw a note in the mouth of the pouch. She opened it and gasped. The note fluttered to the ground. On it were written only two words.

I remember.

I leave it to your very active imaginations what happens later. You'll come up with a much better ending than I. Now back to my other story, The Reluctant Bridegroom!