It's my birthday today-hooray!-so here's a little present. Things are, um, heating up, so enjoy, and let me hear from you all! This afternoon, my family is going to get Indian food. Then we're going to get in our jammies, watch a movie, and eat cake. Fun!

Chapter 18

Late that night, Thorin called a meeting to discuss what to do moving forward. He struggled with how to spend time with Relianna without attracting attention to her or himself. His courtship was taking place under everyone's noses, yet no one could find out about it. His frustration with the situation was rising by the minute. It was easier to have his nephews keep her occupied but, as he told Kili sternly, "This is my kingdom, and I want to show it to her." They stepped back meekly, but he caught himself, thanked them sincerely, and gave them a more important job to do—to work with Nori to track Zozer.

"He's out there, and he'll try something soon. We've only five days to go before I have to announce my choice, and it's likely he'll make his move before then," he said with his hands on their shoulders. "You're both excellent at, er, mingling. Get familiar with everyone's entourage. You already know all the maids"—he grimaced slightly but kept going—"so ask them if there's someone lurking around that they don't recognize. Ask Onkra's former servants. They know more than they say."

They nodded and turned to leave, but he gripped their shoulders.

"I need your help," he said, looking from one to the other, "I need your help more than I ever have before."

They put their hands on his arms, nodded smartly, and left with new purpose.

"So how're you going to do it, laddie?" Balin asked while he scratched his head. "What with an assassin running around? You'd better leave her with Oin until we find him. Your showing her the moonlight and the wink of gems isn't worth a knife in the back. Besides,"—he said with a smile—"I don't think she needs any coaxing to accept ya, lad."

Dwalin agreed loudly.

"You're not thinking straight, Thorin," he said. "Wed the lass first. Do your wooing later."

Their king frowned. This wasn't what he wanted, but he knew what they suggested was the prudent thing to do. Prudence though felt so staid and bland. She was a fiery lass, and Kili and Fili's stories of what they did together set his teeth on edge. He was sure he'd be dull company after their escapades. Besides, he wanted to win her heart anew and banish the fear that she only loved her memories of him. He wanted to excite her and watch her eyes sparkle and shine because of what they did together and how he made her feel now. He acknowledged that she always seemed happy to see him, but lately he felt that she'd be delighted to see anyone after being kept prisoner in a sick room. Not that she'd hug and kiss anyone who come through the door, no, not at all, he reflected, but he wanted to know that her brightest smiles were for him because she was in love with him today.

"You're right," he said, "I know you are, but I want one day with her. I'm sure with all of us working together we can have one day where we can be together, and I can court her properly. She deserves that. It may be madness, but we've gone through madness before and survived."

"Barely, Thorin, just barely," Dwalin muttered.

The old warrior couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. Though he knew his comrade and king was more passionately inclined than himself, he thought that his old friend could certainly wait a few days. The lass should be thrilled and grateful that she attracted Thorin's notice at all, he thought. All this stuff and nonsense about whether she was truly in love with him at that very moment seemed foolish to him. Thorin was making this far too complicated. He wanted her, she wanted him, so good enough and be done with it. He never understood the intricacies of courting. He thought that if a lass ever caught his fancy, he'd just tell her, make sure she had no objections, and cart her away. All of Thorin's pacing over a very simple matter made him want to throw a few back.

"Anyone for the pub?" he asked, looking around. To him, it was as good a solution to their problems as any.

Thorin and Balin stared at him as though he'd gone mad.

"You really don't understand this, do you, brother?" he asked with slight disgust. His mouth scrunched as though he had smelled something sour.

Dwalin shrugged.

"What's to understand? So what if she loves her memories of you? Soon enough you'll take her as wife and make new memories that'll replace the old. One night with the king, and she'll be singing pretty."

Balin rubbed his forehead in circles.

"And if she's a bit more experienced?"

Dwalin refused to see a problem.

"So what? She'll enjoy herself even more then."

Balin snorted and thought that perhaps he and Princess Fregma might be well matched after all.

"Ignore him, Thorin," he said, and he shooed his brother's notions away with his hand. "Now let's get down to business."

Dwalin threw himself into a chair and decided to wait them out until they could go and get a drink. The lass was safe with Oin and Nella for the night, and he was tired of drama. However, Thorin and Balin spent what seemed like hours going through many possibilities—some rather bizarre—but none seemed to offer both the privacy and safety the couple required.

"Why don't you have her dress as one of your personal guards?" he said finally as he began to doze off. He yawned widely. "She can wear several layers to hide her shape and a helmet like your other guards do. She'll look a wee bit different, but no one would think her a lass."

They turned to him in surprise. To think that rough-rock Dwalin had the answer only irritated Balin more, and he put his hands on his thick waist and glared at his heavy-lidded brother.

"Mahal above must be trying my patience!" he said snippily.

"So can we get that drink now?"

The next morning, Thorin was heading back to the infirmary when he was intercepted by his most unwanted council.

"We need to know the name of your intended, my lord," Malar pressed. "Surely you see the need."

Thorin turned on his heel to face a semicircle of garishly robed and even fatter councilors.

"I surely do not," he replied. Then he stared at them and stepped back to get a clearer picture.

"Hmm, my lords, I see you've been taking advantage of the excellent fare we've had this month."

Dolor huffed.

"Nothing amiss with that, my lord! We're dwarves after all."

His collar was so tight around his thicker neck that his head popped above it like the cap on a mushroom.

"And your dress is very rich indeed," Thorin added, as suspicion grew in his mind. He sized up their new velvet robes with sable collars; studded gold necklaces; and thick emerald, ruby, and sapphire rings on more than one finger. "Of course, you know that profiting from this affair is grounds for dismissal, but I expect all is in order and that you simply wish to show your respect to our noble guests."

Their reddening faces told him everything he need to know.

"Prepare for the feast in five days where I will announce my bride. I want a celebration that will never be forgotten," he said. Then he leaned toward Dolor. "I trust you'll never forget it."

Carrying a large sack on his back, Balin explained the situation to Relianna, who thought it the most wonderful joke. She had just peeled off her gown, slipped on her breeches, and swung her hair around her neck when Thorin came hurriedly through her door. She whipped around in an instant.

"By Mahal, Thorin, don't you know to knock!" she cried out.

He couldn't move. Her bare back was to him, and the breeches hung untied about her hips.

Before he could even blink, Oin bustled in, grabbed him by the shoulders, and hustled him back out. It all happened so fast that he was out in the main infirmary before he could think.

"What happened?" he asked in a daze as he looked around. He turned, and the door was shut as if he had never walked in.

Oin looked at him innocently as he rearranged bottles on the shelf. He chuckled gruffly and pretended that his throat was hoarse. Balin looked busy setting out the uniform on a bed.

"My lord?" Oin deadpanned after he cleared his throat. "Did you want something?"

It took all of his many years of bedside manner to not openly laugh at his king's bamboozled expression.

Thorin blinked in confusion, his gaze swinging from Oin to the closed door. Was it just his now over-active imagination that conjured Relianna's sublimely naked back, the breeches slipping below the dimples just above her …?

He shook his head, openly struggling to make sense of the last few moments, and finally turned to Oin.

"Am I going mad?"

Oin snorted and held his hand over his mouth as he chuckled.

"Not in the traditional sense, my lord, but I've had plenty of practice over the years in keeping my patients' secrets, so it's not for me to say!"

Just then Relianna walked out the door looking plump in the heavily padded guard's uniform.

"That ought to include locks on the doors, Master Oin!" she said with a stern look at Thorin.

His smile turned impish as he twirled a curl around his finger and pulled her forward. So he hadn't imagined it after all, and he was more than a little stirred.

"Soon there will be no locks between us, sweet Relianna."

She pushed him back and eyed him with a saucy grin.

"But until then, my lord, knock first!"

Dwalin's brilliant idea didn't play out as well as Thorin had hoped. She took on her role with gusto and, with arms akimbo, swaggered behind him with stomping steps that clanked on the stone floor. From time to time, he heard soft giggles under the false mustache and beard they glued on her, and rubbed his temples.

This isn't at all what I imagined.

After they helped her strap on her armor, they walked around her and made suggestions. She certainly looked the part after Balin was done stuffing in the padding. Another dwarf could have been shoved into the uniform with her.

"I feel like a stuffed pig," she said with good humor. "All I need is an apple in my mouth."

Dwalin eyed her critically, adjusted some straps, and arranged her weapons differently.

"You wear them, lass," he said with a grunt, "they don't wear you. Aye, and clench your fists from time to time like you're up for a fight."

"Are you ready, lass?" Balin asked.

"Aye!" she replied in the deepest voice she could manage. All but Dwalin laughed heartily.

She bowed to Thorin, and he kissed her hand.

"This is the only time any of you will ever see that," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Now we can enjoy time together.

"Not so loud," he muttered over his shoulder. "Personal guards are supposed to be discreet."

She softened her steps immediately but puffed out her padded chest and widened her stance to waddle behind him like a warrior ready for battle. Thorin caught their reflection in the polished black granite wall and winced. This was the least like courting he could imagine, and he began to regret agreeing with Dwalin's suggestion. There had to have been a better way.

"You know, my lord," came her deepened voice behind him, "I'm rather enjoying this."

He inclined his head after a group of bankers walked by and bowed. As he threw a few locks of hair over his shoulder, he tossed a comment back as well.

"I'm glad one of us is," he huffed petulantly.

She hesitated but realized she couldn't stop as long as he was walking. That would definitely bring unwanted attention.

"So what do you what to see first?" he asked after determining to make a go of it.

"I'd like to see the forges and the mines," she said. "I want to know how Erebor works, and I want to understand its people."

He smiled in spite of himself. Her interest is his home was heartening, and he was even more pleased that she wanted to know its people. He was sure that she'd love them with the same passion she showed in everything she did. He was equally certain that they would come to love her despite her human blood. She'd already won over his nephews, Balin, and Oin, and that reaffirmed his course of action. Dwalin was harder to read, but he helped her get ready, and that had to mean something.

Down the stairs and levels they went, trying to keep up as intimate a conversation as possible while dwarves swirled around Thorin. His subjects bowed and made reverence as he passed. He acknowledged those who needed to speak to him. All were respectful, but many tried to get his attention for their various projects, and heads of departments approached with approvals for plans and important decisions.

After the last group left, Relianna left her respectful distance where she had watched astounded at the many decisions he made quickly and efficiently after synthesizing information coming from all over the mountain kingdom.

"How do you do that?" she almost whispered.

"Do what?" he asked.

She waved her arm out at the ordered chaos below.

"How do manage all of this? Everyone looks to you; everyone needs your approval to move on. This whole mountain and everyone in it looks to you to lead them."

He stood and looked around, shrugged his shoulders, and moved on.

"I am king."

Relianna was enthralled by the forges. Their sheer size and power had her mouth continually open until a fleck of hot ash burnt her tongue. She watched as the roar of the white-hot flames shot high into the air, and dwarves swung on enormous chains and pumped the huge bellows with practiced ease. Huge, rough pots poured iron, gold, and silver down chutes, and the glowing metals raced along, competing to reach their molds first. Metal workers swung heavy mallets on various shapes of glowing metal. Four crowded around a glowing disk of gold, shaping and flattening it to be made into a filigree bowl to hold wine for their king's wedding. All around her, dwarves worked together like cogs in a great machine, each doing his job in synchronized rhythm. She tried to keep quiet, and the dwarves were too busy to notice her presence, but she struggled not to throw her arms out to try and take it all in.

Then she tilted her head and watched as Thorin, his face lit by the glow of the fires, took a hammer from a smith, and pointed out several errors. The dwarf nodded, and Thorin rolled up his sleeves and worked the metal until it reached its desired shape. The dwarf bowed with a large smile, and Thorin clapped him on the back and laughed. She stared enraptured. Would she would love him as much if he were a simple smith eking out a living in a dwarf village somewhere? Watching as he walked among the workers, talking with the foremen and calling all by name, she had her answer. Whether he was a simple smith or king, she'd follow him to the ends of the world.

After he was done, she bowed and allowed him to lead her away. Once they were out of earshot, he asked her where she wanted to go next.

"I want to see where you live."

He turned to her, but seeing that others were watching, he walked away, and she followed.

"I thought you wanted to see more of Erebor?" he asked, wondering if something was wrong.

A group of dwarves approached and requested that he sign some documents.

"I need to look at these again before I agree," he replied.

They grumbled, but he stood firm.

"It appears that details were added since the last time I saw them, and I'll not sign until I read them through. Give them to Balin, and I'll look at them later."

The group was most displeased but bowed obediently and left. Then he led her high up the mountain to the upper levels and down a corridor that branched off into a vaulted hall with a ceiling of embedded crystals that caught the light of scores of standing oil lamps. A massive chandelier of large diamonds flashed in the center. Four guards stood at the entrance of another corridor at the end of the hall. Thorin nodded as he passed with his guard.

"My lord," one of them asked, "do you need more assistance?"

He waved his hand.

"This guard is to keep noble-borns from approaching to make last-minute requests," he said. His mouth turned down. "I believe I've had enough of those," he added.

They chuckled as they bowed deeply. "My lord," they said in unison.

He strode passed them and turned to the left and up a short flight of stairs to two massive doors. After unlocking them, he ushered her inside. While his private study was down the hall, this was his own suite of rooms.

Relianna took off her stifling helmet. Really, how could they wear them all day? She shook her hair around her and pushed back her curls. Her face was flushed from the heat and padding. Then she gazed in awe at his private library; the outdoor balcony beyond behind thick, glass doors; and the huge bedroom with bear skins between two wing-backed chairs in front of a massive fireplace. She looked over at burgundy and gold bed curtains, tapestries of Erebor, and the wide bed with burgundy sheets and comforters covered with sable and mink throws. It was the most masculine room she had ever seen and fitted him so well.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked with a trace of uncertainty. The queen's chambers adjoined his own, but he hoped she'd spent little time there. "There's a music room beyond, and a private bath, as well as a reading room." He wandered around, thinking and hoping that she approved and could see herself being comfortable, no, loving his home, both public and private. Lost in his thoughts for a moment, he paid no attention to what she was doing.

By that time, the padding was unbearable and, without thinking, she shimmied out of the armor and peeled off the padding.

"I feel like I was in the forge myself!" she said gasping. She wore a thin shirt open to mid-chest and breeches. He turned, completely unprepared for her inappropriate attire.

"Whew!" she said with a laugh, "I feel better now!"

His eyes widened, and his pulse began to race.

"Perhaps we'd better leave now," he said hurriedly, but she held out her hand.

"In a moment, Thorin, I need to catch my breath. I'm far too hot to put all that back on. Besides, I did want to see where you live. Give me a chance to cool down."

He stepped closer, his temperature rising rapidly.

"Do you like my chambers?" he asked huskily. He put his hand in her hair behind her neck and began massaging it. Her head fell back exposing her bare throat.

"That feels so good after being entombed in that armor. You have no idea." She moaned, and he pulled her flush against him and kissed her throat and under her jaw.

"Sweet, soft," he murmured. He held her firmly and gloried in the feel of her. Tugging on her tunic, he slipped her shirt off her shoulder and ran his mouth along her collarbone. Fire hotter than the forges heated his blood.

"Thorin," she gasped between soft moans after he braced himself and leaned her back to rub his nose and open mouth on the rising skin between the laces, "we need to stop."

He silenced her with kisses that demanded she match his desire. Little by little, he backed her up until her knees hit the foot of his bed, and she fell back with her hair fanned out on the soft furs and her legs apart. He fell forward with her and pressed his body against hers.

"No," he moaned with his hands holding her head, his breath coming hot and fast, "I'll say my vows to you now. We can be wed right here, right now. We need nothing else. I don't care about a ceremony, no witnesses are needed."

She held her hand against his chest.

"Is this what you wanted for your sister?" she panted, her mouth grazing his cheek.

He stopped immediately and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. Neither spoke for a long moment. Then he rolled on his back, and both looked up at the Durin crest embroidered on the canopy above. He adjusted his clothing.

"No. I lose my wits around you. Balin said so, and he's right."

He chuckled painfully.

"I can't control myself when we're alone. All I can think of is making you mine, but once again, I've played the fool."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. That seemed both a chaste and singularly unsatisfying gesture. He knew her passion matched his, but something was missing, and he couldn't place it. She got to her feet, and he followed. She smiled warmly and held out her hand.

"Would you show me the music room instead? I'd love to see it."

He led her to the door, but his frustration lessened at the childlike look of delight on her face.

"Oh! A set of pipes!"

Without another word, she picked them up and played a haunting melody that caught him by surprise. It was sensitive, lyrical, and intricate. She swayed slightly as she played and looked like she was somewhere else in time.

"Where did you learn to play like that?" he asked with a smile, thinking of the many nights they would play together. His harp stood in the corner.

Her face suddenly closed, and her brows drew together.

"A ... friend, another healer I met in my travels taught me."

His smile dropped. He was about to ask who, when she shook her head and announced that she was ready to leave. He knew she was hiding something and felt a pang of suspicion.

Undoing and redoing all the straps, she busied herself getting dressed while he looked on with a frown. He decided to propose that night and put an end to all doubts. Regardless of his own embarrassment, he would ask if she loved him. He had to know, but he dreaded her answer and anguished knowing that he couldn't live without her no matter what she said. Whether she loved him or not, he wanted her, but that decision left a cold twist in his gut. He had her passion, but he wanted her heart even more. He rubbed his mouth as they readied to leave. He wasn't at all sure if her heart was his, or if he was sharing it with someone else in the present or from the past.

"Have Oin take you to my grandmother's garden on the lower slopes after you change," he said before he opened the door. "I need to ask you something."

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