Date: TA 2940

Thorin: 194 years old

Lina: 191 years old

The bed shifted. Thorin. Lina opened her eyes, wondering what had drawn her husband out of bed before her. The room was still cloaked in darkness and not even the faintest glow of light showed through the cracks in the curtains. It was either very late at night or very early in the morning. Whichever it was, Thorin rarely rose before Lina. At least not without telling her he would be the evening before. Well, that was once how it had been.

In the last few years, Thorin had become increasingly short-tempered and restless. He would shut himself away for days, brooding over maps and old records. Lina allowed him his privacy as long as she could, but, after two years of suddenly shifting habits, she was concerned.

A brief flare of light appeared as Thorin lit his pipe. He was standing near the fireplace in their room, their rented room. The fire sprang to life with a little tending, casting long shadows about the chamber. The bare skin of his body glowed strangely in the firelight, making him seem more alien and distant.

"What is it, Thorin?" Lina asked softly. She could no longer stand the silence, the brooding.

Her husband looked almost surprised to see her sitting in the bed behind him.

"I can't sleep," he answered gruffly. His wife growled deep in her throat. If he was not going to come to her, she would go to him. Throwing back the covers, Lina slipped from the warmth of the bed, trying to ignore the cold air against her bare skin. Her arms slipped about his waist, pulling his body close to hers. Thorin was usually more likely to talk to her if her body was in contact with his.

"You've been like this for two years now. I've borne the silence as long as I can. Thorin, we've been together far too long for this. Don't shut me out now," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder. A heavy sigh was all the answer she received. Ever hopeful, Lina waited, her arms tight about his waist. Still he simply stood quietly, smoking his pipe and staring into the fire.

After what seemed an eternity, Lina finally surrendered. After one hundred and thirty-eight years, she had finally found encountered a wall he was unwilling to lower for her. Her arms loosened, and she began to pull away, intending to return to the warmth of their bed.

Thorin seized her hand as it slid across his belly. Pressing it to him, he halted her movement.

"Stay, please," he whispered. There was pain in his voice. Whatever had troubled him these past two years, it was hurting him deeply. Lina simply wished he'd let her in, but, for now, she would have to be content to give what blind comfort she could. Her arms returned to wrap around him, pulling her body tight against his back. His hand did not leave hers, instead gripping it tightly.

His silence continued. Light began to show through the cracks in the curtains before he moved again. Thorin tugged at her wrist, loosening her grasp enough he could move. He set his pipe on the mantelpiece and turned within the circle of his wife's arms. The fire behind him cast his face in shadow, making him impossible to read.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I did not intend to shut you out." His voice stilled for a moment. Lina closed her eyes as his lips pressed tenderly against the top of her head. She waited. There was more to his thoughts, she knew that much.

"Erebor has been on my mind of late," Thorin revealed. "More often than ever before. In my dreams I see the dragon's smoke beginning to diminish. Perhaps he is dead or dying, I do not know which. That he has not been seen in sixty years gives me hope."

"You are thinking of returning to the Mountain?" Lina looked up at him startled. For so long he had been content to remain in Eriador, rarely travelling over the Misty Mountains into the east.

"I cannot help it," he answered. "Our people have dwelt in halls not their own long enough. Why should we not attempt to take back the city?"

"What about the dragon? Smaug, if he still lives, will not give up the city so easily. He was not so old when he drove us from Erebor that he would die now," Lina pointed out. "No one has yet managed to wound the creature. Surely word of that would have reached even to Belegost."

"There are a few that might know of the dragon's fate," Thorin answered slowly. "I have considered seeking out the Grey Wizard, Gandalf. There are rumors that he has taken an interest in Smaug."

To this Lina had no reply, for there was none. Her husband had already decided to make the journey to Erebor. The question was simply when. For some reason this realization struck fear into her heart. Why? Why fear?

Lina had seen first-hand the destruction Smaug had brought upon the cities of Dale and Erebor. So many dwarves and men had died in his attack upon the dwarven city. With the gates sealed shut, was it even possible to enter the city once more? If the dragon did not wish visitors, then there would be no visitors to the city. Without someone of great skill and cunning to find an alternate route, anyone who ventured into Erebor would die instantaneously.

"I will not do as my father did before me," Thorin assured her. "I will not go running off to the Mountain on some unplanned whim. When I return, if I return, I will have a plan. Until then, my love, you need not worry about me leaving you."

"When you journey to Erebor, I shall not be far behind," she answered, kissing him. No, she would not let him go without her. He was all she had in this world. If she was to lose him to the dragon, then she wanted to fall beside him.

"So you shall." A smile lit his face for the first time in many days.

"Shall we have breakfast and begin the journey back to Belegost?" Lina asked after a moment.

"I suppose." Thorin's hand caressed her cheek for a moment longer.

The dwarves dressed and repacked the few items they had brought with them. They were nearly at the end of yet another of their walking journeys. The trip through the Hills of Evendim had become a yearly ritual for the couple. The time away from other dwarves had allowed them to get to know one another again, to explore their relationship in ways they had not been able to since shortly after their joining. As they often did, Thorin and Lina had spent one night at the inn in Bree. It had become such a ritual that the innkeeper started looking for them to appear about the same time every year.

Thorin led the way down the stairs into the tap room. A few early risers and travelers were seated about the room, eating something before setting out once more. A grey figure sitting by the fire caught Lina's eye. She pointed the old man out to her husband.

"Master Gandalf?" Thorin asked, approaching the figure. The man looked up at the dwarf's approach.

"Thorin Oakenshield," the man whispered as if surprised the dwarf before him was real.

"You have been on my mind of late," the wizard informed Thorin. He motioned for the pair to join him before the blaze.

"You have also been on mine," Thorin replied.

"It seems we are meant to discuss something of great importance, but I think not in this place," Gandalf said. "I had thought to call upon you in Belegost once my business elsewhere is complete. Would this satisfy you?"

"If you are willing to make the journey, then I am willing to wait," Thorin answered. Lina remained silent as she wondered if the wizard, too, had been thinking of Smaug in Erebor.

"When my business is finished, I shall join you in Erebor then."

The two dwarves took their leave of the wizard and, eating quickly, began the journey back to their city. Thorin's mood seemed lighter than it had in a long time. Lina, however, felt that nauseating tug in the pit of her stomach. Something horrible was coming.

A/N: We have now begun getting into The Hobbit. Hopefully things will start moving a bit faster. If you have not read the book yet, this story is going to be absolutely stuffed with spoilers. Sorry.