OK, now it's their turn to learn and love.

Chapter 47

Frain swept Bemma up in his arms and carried her over the threshold of their new chambers—not his, not hers, but theirs. She nuzzled under his chin, and he dipped his head for a soft kiss. It was their time. Thorin and Relianna's week behind locked doors had given them a fresh start in life, and it showed. He'd never seen Thorin easier or Relianna more at peace. It was the way things were supposed to be, the way he thought it had been for his mother and father. Dain's retelling of the sordid truth rocked him, but he realized it would have been the same for his father and his mother if politics and extortion hadn't intervened. Thorin was a stronger dwarf though, and he rejoiced that his sister was happy at last, or rather rejoiced after a few comments on their lack of punctuality.

But after he had vented his frustration at the delay, Frain watched their interactions with curiosity. What was it like to be one? Was it as wonderful as he imagined? He was heartened by their smiles and the tender light in Thorin's eyes when he looked at Relianna. Tender. Loving. Even proud. Thorin was enthralled. Frain had heard, of course, of his gold sickness, but other than a heartfelt prayer for Relia's son and a bear hug for his sister who had cried when she heard the news, he hadn't dwelled on Thorin's predicament. But if Thorin had looked at the Arkenstone like that, he could well understand everyone's concern. His expression was fierce, focused, and devoted almost to the point of obsession. If she laughed at something Kili had said, he would grin just a second later. If her head turned to acknowledge a comment, his would follow. He was shadowing her, and Frain knew then that no one ever would or ever could hurt Relianna again. She was Thorin's very breath and the heartbeat of his life, and he would give his kingdom to protect her.

However, that wasn't all he saw, although it was enough to reassure him. There were the many soft caresses. Frain was about to mock Thorin's near-constant attempts to touch her, but they were so dear he couldn't spoil it. Thorin rubbed her shoulders, played with her curls, and sat so close to her that another inch would push her in his lap, something he may have intended. And she wasn't ignorant of his presence by any means. Her hands kept seeking him, and she kept shifting to align with him. They had become one, and consciously or not, they sought to return there with a rhythmic dancing of hands and arms. Frain had watched with fascination. They even anticipated each other's wants. When Relianna reached for a muffin, and Thorin put the right one in her hand, and when she had finished her drink, he refilled it without her asking. He doted on her without self-consciousness and ignored his brother-in-law's attempts to embarrass him.

"So, Thorin," he had said, "Relianna looks unwell." He was pleased to see Thorin turn at once to his sister and look her over. She looked radiant. "Are those circles under her eyes? Hasn't she been sleeping well?"

Thorin had turned back with cutting glance. "When are you leaving for the Iron Hills?" he had asked. "Don't let us keep you." He glared at Frain with mock anger before grinning and kissing his wife's hand. Without asking, she fixed his plate and poured him some drink, and he passed her the pastries she adored. Frain had watched with both joy and envy, waiting for his time with Bemma.

Now it had come, and he stood in the doorway of his chambers with his luscious bride in his arms. He set her down with care, and she turned to him and hugged him around the waist. He sighed and leaned his head on hers.

"Finally!" he said. "Thorin droned on and on. I thought he'd never finish."

She giggled and nodded against his chest.

"Me neither, although I have it on good authority that the ceremony was supposed to be at least an hour longer."

"No! I suppose I should be grateful for that, but he paid me back by making me wear winter blankets on top of everything else. I need to get these off before I melt." She helped him shrug off his stifling robes and afterward, he shook out his arms and arched his back.

"Thank you, Plum," he said, gazing down at his young wife with grateful eyes. She looked like a little girl excited by a new treat, and he laughed at her expression. The room had a cheery fire in the hearth and a small table set with breads, cheese, and cold meats. Thorin and Relianna knew they wouldn't stay to greet well-wishers and thoughtfully provided a light meal.

"Oh, look what they did for us, Frain," she said, holding up a bottle of fine wine. Their gaze fell next on the imposing, four-poster bed with its sumptuous green and blue velvet coverlet, down comforters, and white fox furs. It was a rich offering to an almost penniless couple, and he blanched. The talk that Lord Kerba and Thorin insisted on having with him reared in his mind, and he worried she would remember this night with disappointment. It never occurred to him that willing women would have trouble with intimacy. She was so tiny, and he was so much larger that he thought he might just crush her before they even approached becoming one. Thorin would know what to do, he grumbled to himself.

He had guessed that Thorin was experienced and therefore more comfortable with how to proceed, even though the information was new to him as well. Still, Thorin had the added luster and confidence of a king where he was treading in new and alien territory. So much had happened so fast that the pressure of being a son, a prince, and a husband dropped that moment on his shoulders with the weight of impossibly high expectations.

Seeing his distress, Bemma clasped her arms around his neck. She watched his gaze flicker from the bed to her with growing unease.

"What is it?"

He sighed and looked down at her with troubled eyes. Unclasping her hands, he led her to the bed and patted the place next to him. She sat with wide eyes and her hands folded in her lap. It was her trusting look that pulled a pained groan from his chest. He felt like a bumbling fool, but he was more concerned for her welfare. His years as a healer told him that a frank conversation was needed before they came together. This was to be the culmination of their love, and he wanted her to have all the facts. Flames threw shadows on her face that seemed to him like tears, and he wondered if that was a premonition of their night together. He swallowed hard.

"I was told your first time may be painful, and I'm afraid of hurting you."

"I know," she said after a relieved exhale. For a moment there, she thought something serious had happened, but he did a double-take.

"You know?" He grew even more flustered. "You mean you know I don't want to hurt you or you know the first time may be painful?"

"Both," she said. "Relianna talked to me about her time with Thorin."

"Please, no details!"

Bemma giggled and took his hand. She played with his fingers and wiggled the tips, looking up at him under her lashes.

"She didn't tell me anything like that," she said, her coy smile growing wider, "but she did tell me about some advice Lord Kerba gave Thorin."

"Oh, and what was that?" he asked, wanting to be sure they were talking about the same thing.

She didn't answer but instead hopped off the bed, took a knife from the table, and placed it on the nightstand.

"What is that for?" he asked with growing trepidation. He reviewed everything they had said to him and none of it involved a sharp knife. Then a horrible, simply horrible, thought entered his mind, and he grabbed the blade. "You're not intending to, to somehow cut …," and he gestured at her skirts. She looked surprised at his sudden horror before patting his hand and pulling the knife away.

"No, no, of course not! Goodness! You look a fright. Why don't you take off your doublet while I pour us some wine? You still look far too hot. Then we can talk," and she bustled to the table to pour two drinks. She came back to see him looking both concerned and suspicious.

"What are you up to?" He watched her for a moment before undoing his doublet. Twisting his heavy hair around to keep it from catching in the fabric, he did as she bid and pulled off the last of his ornate wedding clothes. Now he was dressed much as she'd always seen him in a thin white tunic and gray breeches. She couldn't help beaming. They were just themselves now with no one to impress. He looked like he did in the sick rooms only more muscular and even more handsome if that were possible. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, and she caught her breath. He was simply, truly, absolutely the most beautiful dwarf who ever lived. Of that she was sure, and he was all hers. She almost put a hand to her stomach to still the butterflies, but she didn't want to make him more nervous than he already was.

"Be truthful with me, Plum," he said after taking a sip of the wine and putting it on the stand. He took her hands and held them tight. "I know maids talk and that outlandish notions come from ignorance. I don't know what you understand about intimacy, but I want us to be completely honest with each other. I love you, and I want to make love to you, but I also want it to be wonderful for both of us, so I'm willing to wait if you want. We don't need to do this tonight."

She almost cried at his selflessness. Who else would offer such a thing? He was also the dearest dwarf who ever lived. However, she had other plans but appeared deep in thought.

"Perhaps we should talk then," she said after a peek up at him. His face turned grave, and he nodded. Trying to hide a smile, she shrugged her shoulders and tugged at her skirts. "It's too warm in here."

"I'll fix the fire," he said and moved to push off the bed, but she stayed him with her hand.

"No, no," she said. "I just need to take this gown off. It's frightfully heavy." He sat back down, and she turned around to unlace her bodice. "Be just a moment."

He rearranged the covers to make them comfortable for her and set his expectations for a gentle, tender night of sleeping by her side. That alone was much more than enough, and he smiled at the thought of her nestled against him. He exhaled with a happy grunt that lodged in his throat when she turned around. Her bodice was open, and her satin gown slithered to the floor. She was small but with full body curves that caused Frain to gasp before desperate attempts to clear his throat. He had struggled with desire that day when what little he saw drove him to ravish her in a public hallway. Now he saw what her clothing had hidden and struggled to catch his breath.

"Cat got your tongue?" she purred. She sauntered up to him and splayed her hands on his chest. "Mmmm, delicious." Grabbing the top of his tunic with her hands, she ripped it down the front to expose his chest. He goggled at her and looked down at his torn tunic with both arms open. Bemma grinned. He was just as flummoxed as she had hoped. Moving closer, she pressed herself up against his bare chest before pushing him down hard on the bed. He tried to find his voice, but all he could get out was a series of choking noises.

"That's better," she said, and she slipped off her almost transparent shift. Frain broke out in a light sweat that cast a sheen on his skin, and his face flushed dark with a different kind of heat. It was almost time. "Now where is it?" She leaned over him, taking care to rub up against him, and he groaned and arched his body to press into hers. The knife gleamed on the night stand, and she swept it up and waited until he opened his eyes. He was breathing hard and struggling to take in enough air.

"Oh, Mahal," he panted. "Oh, Mahal." He couldn't say anything else.

After showing him the point, she sliced through the laces of his breeches with a deft stroke, and he cried out in shock and exhilaration.

"Now," she said leaning close to his ear. "I think I've said my piece," and she straddled him with her hands pressing on his shoulders. "Relianna told me that we need to lead the first time out, so I did. Now it's your turn."

After a fleeting look of wonder and relief, he grabbed her to him and molded her to his body.

"I will," he whispered in her ear. "You can depend on it."

The next morning she woke first and stared at her beautiful, strong husband. He lay facing her, and she ghosted her hand over his swelling bicep down his arm to his long fingers. They looked more human than dwarf, but what sensations they brought forth with every stroke! The hands of a skilled healer. Was it Plumma or Derlig who wondered what his hands could do? Now she knew and stifled an excited giggle. Perhaps she was blessed in all Arda to have a prince of a husband whose skill as a healer was eminently useful as a lover. Last night was wonderful for them both, and she pulled down his sheet, trying not to wake him. Of course, she had seen him naked from the waist up before, and that was enough for her cheeks to burn, but to see him unguarded with his long, muscled legs uncovered was a secret delight. Her happy reminiscing stopped when she saw a bruise on his hip. It wasn't overly large, but it was a thick blue-purple, and she knew it had happened when she accidentally bumped into him. Her smile fell, and she placed her palm over it. He had said he would most likely die before her, and she knew it to be true but refused to give it any weight. It was an abstract calculation at the time, and how many times had he cheated death before? She lifted her hand off the proof that her beautiful, strong husband struggled with even the most innocent of things. She knew he did but hadn't seen it before now. It was just a bump of her knee when they shifted to snuggle down for the night. He had winced but said nothing, and she was too distracted at the time to pay it any mind.

"I swear," she whispered, not sure if her vow was to him, Mahal, or herself. "I swear never to take our lives for granted, never to waste time bickering over worthless things, and never to be too busy to love him with all my heart. I promise to take care of him always, even if I have to do it in secret. I swear to make life as wonderful for him as I can. Please let him see our children grown. Please. Please let him live life to the full for as long as possible. Please."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she pressed her hand on his hip as a seal and shield. He shifted, and his eyes blinked open. At once his brows drew together at her distress, and he felt her hand on him. His hand covered hers before he lifted it to his lips and kissed along her fingers. His sweetness sharpened her sorrow.

"Plum? What is it, my love?" She shook her head, determined not to let what could happen ruin what was happening. That day might come, but it wouldn't come today. He had taught her that.

"I'm so happy, just so happy." She ducked her head until she could control herself. There was no need to worry today, and she decided to take each day as it came, so today she would be happy. His eyes met hers when she looked up, and she wondered if he would understand her thoughts. His sensitivity to her moods was sometimes unnerving.

"We have all the time in the world, Plum," he said before bending his head to kiss her clutched hands. "All the time in the world."

I wrote this chapter intending it to be a sweet moment between the new husband and wife. He's worried for her comfort, and she's trying to ease his mind, and they love each other enough to do whatever it takes to make each other happy. I hope that point came across. It's not at all intended to be a smut fest. On another note, thanks so much for all your wonderful reviews! Hello also to new readers. To those who have been reading incognito, thanks for sticking with it! I'm rushing this chapter out as well, so if something doesn't make sense let me know. It's easy for writers to think they're being more clear than they are. In my mind everything makes sense. Go figure.