Ila had dismissed Dwala for the day to spend what was left of it with Dwalin. She knew her friend was as upset as she was about being robbed of her dwarf and on such short notice. At the moment, Ila was pulling clothes out for Thorin and folding them to pack while she waited for him to join her.

She loved his clothes. They were all so rich and plush and of course spelled like him. She put aside one of this sleeping shirts to sleep in herself when she missed him. Perhaps his scent would provide her with some small comfort on those lonely nights. She also discovered that she needed to knit him a new scarf for such long and cold journeys. Perhaps she could do that while he was away. The one she put aside for packing had looked as old as she was. She paused for a moment and wondered if it could be. He was 118 years older than her.

That brought something else to mind that Ila tried not to think about, but couldn't always help. When her father first told her of her betrothal to the king under the mountain, she had been anything but happy. He was so much older than her, and rumored to be brooding and cantankerous, so Ila took a little solace in the knowledge that she would spend many years a widow, if not remarry to someone closer to her in age and temperament. Then, she would have a chance to be truly happy, once she had fulfilled her duty as was determined by her father and by Thorin.

She of course had not known that she and Thorin would fall madly for one another, and be happier than she had ever dared imagine. And with that happiness came the fear of losing him too soon, of not living out her whole life with him. Perhaps when he died grief would take her too, and they would not be parted for long after all. But that would mean leaving behind their children, who might be young still, and Ila's heart ached at that thought too. She then considered that she might die in childbirth, and have lived a short life indeed and had needed not worry at all that Thorin would pass before she did. That thought made her afraid, and she banished it from her mind for the night.

These thoughts were always in the back of Ila's mind. She did her best to suppress them but every now and then they managed to creep to the forefront. She continued folding and laying things out on the bed for Thorin to pack. She could have had a servant do it but she enjoyed it, it made her feel good to do things for him. Homey and wifely things, like knitting him a new scarf.

She looked around for his traveling cloak and saw it folded and placed on top of his great wardrobe. She dragged a chair over to it and stepped on the seat to reach for the cloak. She stood on her tip toes and could almost reach it...

Ila yelped as two hands closed on her hips. She fell back on her heels and saw Thorin's stern face, level with her torso, staring up her.

"What are you doing?" He asked, clearly not amused.

Ila made an innocent face down at him. "I am fetching your cloak," she said sweetly.

"You need not being doing that. Step down." He said and pulled at her hips. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he lifted her by the waist down and onto the floor. Thorin then firmly wrapped his arms around her.

"You cannot do these sorts of things while I am gone, what if you had fallen and I had not been here?" He asked, his voice rising and his displeasure with her evident.

"Darling, you cannot treat me like an invalid just because I am pregnant," Ila said, not allowing herself to become angry. She was not going to spend her last night with him being cross.

"Actually I could. I could order you to begin your lying in now, as opposed to when the birth becomes imminent."

"Thorin! I would run mad! And more importantly that is not necessary!" Ila said trying to step from his grasp but his arms where like iron bands around her.

"I will run mad with worry for the next three weeks if you do not take care," he said. "And I have my reservations about leaving Kili to the task of watching over you. You can be sure that I will have others send me word if he proves to be taking the task too lightly, OR if you are going about doing as you please despite him."

Ila felt her face beginning to burn at him. She was a queen. A young queen but a queen nonetheless, and she did not like being treated like a little mischievous little dwarfling that needed constant observation.

"Thorin, you wound me that you think me spiteful of your orders," Ila said.

"I do not think you spiteful, but I remember you sneaking about at night, and slipping out onto balconies alone when you thought no one was looking, in direct opposition of the wishes I had expressed to you. That was mere months ago, dear." Thorin said and Ila hated that he had a point. But she had not been a queen or pregnant then, it had not really been that great of a deal.

Ila frowned at him and his iron grip became softer and he drew her to his chest. She looked up at him with hurt eyes and he kissed the tip of her nose. She buried her face in his beard and said "If you are so worried then do not go,"

Thorin sighed and stroked her back. "I need to, dear. But I will not go again while you are with child, I promise. It will be better that I go now and send others in my stead when I cannot leave you." he said.

Ila twirled his beard in her fingers slowly as he held her. It was getting longer since she'd met him. It had been rather short, but she'd heard he kept it short during exile in remembrance of those and what had been lost. Now that he was king under the mountain, he was letting it grow again.

He dipped his head and kissed her mouth gently to let her know he was no longer upset. He tried so hard to keep his temper in check when it came to his wife, though she tried him at times. She was a dwarf but the more delicate of their kind, and while she had told him many times that she was not made of glass, that is indeed how he saw her. A delicate, one of a kind treasure, that was all his and must be constantly protected and always handled with care (except of course when he desired to be a bit rough with her, but he knew what lengths to take that to).

"Come, sit and talk to me while I pack. Supper should be here shortly." Thorin said and steered Ila towards a comfortable chair since the bed was covered in his things.

"I already laid out a good deal for you, and folded much of it as well." Ila said and Thorin smiled.

"Yes my dear, I see. But you know you could have had a servant do that instead of troubling yourself with it," he replied.

"I know darling, but I enjoy doing wifely things for you. It makes me happy and it makes me feel useful." Ila said.

Thorin smiled warmly at her as he searched for socks to pack. "That is sweet of you my love, but you have done enough today." he said.

"I wish I had realized you were in need of a new scarf, I would have been working on one for you already. But I shall knit one while you are away." Ila said. "If you do not consider that to be too strenuous..." she added.

Thorin narrowed his eyes at her playfully. "No, my love, I believe knitting is tame enough," he said and continued searching for more socks.

Ila smiled and absentmindedly held her bump while Thorin went about. She enjoyed watching him do just about anything. They spent the evening that way, just talking about whatever and folding clothes, very domestic and homey and completely forgetting they were a king and queen with official duties that had to be undertaken in the morning. After supper, they slowly and passionately made love to each other until Ila was completely spent and collapsed in Thorin's arms. He fell asleep almost as soon as she did, holding her close and savoring the smell of her hair and the soft touch of her skin that he would soon be cruelly denied.

Thorin was not the only dwarf who recognized the need to dine privately with his lady that night. Instead of meeting Dwala for supper in the great hall as he did every night, Dwalin told her to meet him in the armory. Dwala had thought that was strange...maybe he needed help packing weapons? But they were going on a routine trip to Ered Luin, not to war. She also knew that Dwalin went heavily armed wherever he went, but his beloved axes would not be in the armory. She stopped trying to figure him out and simply made her way down to the armory as he had instructed.

There were guards outside of course, but they did not seem to be surprised by her arrival nor did they attempt to stop her. She went in and walked through a great hallway lined with innumerable spears on both sides. It kept going and going and Dwala wondered if she was in the right place. She could faintly hear noises however, and saw around the corner up ahead that there was a greater source of light than the torches that dotted the walls.

Dwala quickened her pace, ready to be through these passages and to Dwalin. She turned the corner only to find that she had to walk another passage nearly equal in length as the one she had just walked, but the noises and light increased and Dwala continued making her way towards it. Finally, she rounded the next corner and came to what she supposed was the main room of the armory, but saw five other passages shoot off from the room in every direction, each filled with axes, bows and arrows, war hammers, maces, knives, and all manner of swords. This room in particular had a great fireplace opposite her and it was ablaze with a warm and inviting flames. There were suits of armor along the wall, most of which seemed to be for decorative or historical purposes only, as they appeared to be from bygone eras. There was a great table that had obviously been pushed from the center of the room near one of the walls, so that the floor in front of the fireplace was clear.

Dwala walked around to stand near the fire, as the table had been obscuring her view of it, and then gasped a little gasp as she saw what lay before it.

A great blanket had been laid out in front of the fire and supper had been spread out next to it. Bread, cheeses, fruit, potatoes and pork were waiting to be eaten, heat still rising from them. It was like a little indoor picnic. A secret picnic.

"There you are," came a deep and familiar brogue.

Dwala turned just in time to see Dwalin's face appearing over her shoulder. His hands came around to encircle her waist from behind and bring her to him.

"What's all this?" Dwala asked, blushing.

"Oh, this? I wanted to have you all to myself before I must leave. Isn't this better than dining in the great hall? Where I cannot even lay my hand on yours?" he asked as he brought his lips to her neck to press a soft kiss there. The feel of his beard on her skin gave Dwala such powerful shivers that she nearly bucked in his grasp.

"Yes," was all she could whisper.

"I thought so," he whispered into her ear. Perhaps he was trying to make up for last night, and for not telling her he was going to Ered Luin tomorrow, she thought. Whatever it was, it was working.

"But may I ask one thing?" She said.

"Mmm?" Dwalin replied, busy giving her neck another kiss.

"Why the armory?"

"Well, because no one would possibly interrupt us here. The guards no better than to let anyone else pass while I am here, and the risk of someone seeing us venture to each other's rooms is too great. This was the safest option." Dwalin answered.

He was right, Dwala thought. No one would think of the armory as a rendezvous spot for an intimate evening, and with her honor at stake the risk of being seen coming or going from their rooms was too great. Not that anything was going to transpire, but no one else knew that, or would believe that if they were seen sneaking into or out of each other's chambers. Thorin would certainly not tolerate his queen having a dwarf of ill repute wait on her, so she had to be careful indeed.

"Come then," he said and led her by the hand to the blanket where they sat and enjoyed supper. He had apparently brought everything up there himself, and Dwala's heart was melting for sure. Not that it hadn't been before, but he had never made such a gesture until now. She had not thought of him as romantic, but that had been fine. Not every dwarf was or could be, and she did not need a great deal of romancing to be happy. Not what Thorin had done for Ila at least. But their courtship had been very different. They were forced together, and while they did not have to fall in love it was ideal that they did. It was expected that Thorin properly court and romance Ila, which he eventually did and luckily for everyone, the two fell genuinely in love with one another.

But she and Dwalin had fallen for each other out of nothing other than the desires of their own hearts. Dwala knew Ila loved Thorin desperately now, but Dwala also knew she would not have naturally gravitated to him if there had been no arrangement. He was so distant and brooding, she didn't believe that he would have let his walls down long enough for Ila to even be interested. Personally, Dwala thought Ila and Kili would be a better match. They were the same age, and Kili was every bit as friendly and kind as Thorin was angry and superior. But that had not been Ila's destiny. Thorin was, and thankfully he had truly fallen in love with her, despite his often treating her like a rare jewel that had to be locked away from danger than a lady dwarf, free to do as she pleased.

But that was just Dwala's thoughts, and at the moment her thoughts were on one and only one dwarf, the great warrior that sat before her by the fire. Once they had finished eating, they lay in each other's arms late into the night, the fire dying beside them. Dwalin brought the blanket close around them and held Dwala while she lay dozing in his arms. Dwalin wanted so very much to make love to her there before the fire, but he did not even attempt to place a hand where it shouldn't be. He had promised to respect her wishes, no matter how painful that was to do at times. She let him trace circles on her back, through her dress of course, and caress her while she lay there, but he did not do anything to make her uncomfortable.

Soon, he thought. Soon he would claim her as his bride. Her ring would be done by the time he returned from Ered Luin, and he would ask for her hand then. He prayed to Mahal that she would say yes, and he believed that she would, though he was still horribly anxious about having to ask her. He was thankful that he had the trip to Ered Luin and back to think on exactly what he would say.

Dwala's eyes fluttered open and her soft brown ones met his cool blue ones.

"Go to sleep," he whispered and gently stroked her hair. She smiled at him weakly,

"You go to sleep," she barely managed to say before her eyes closed again and she was softly sleeping once more. Dwalin wanted to sleep, and needed to since they were leaving shortly after dawn, but lay there for some time yet, trying to sear her face into his mind to recall in his dreams for the next three weeks.

Early the next morning, not long before the sun would rise, Thorin slipped from his love's grasp to get dressed. Ila rolled over onto her back and did not wake, but lay there with one hand on her belly and the other stretched out over her head.

Thorin smiled as he beheld her but quickly dressed for his journey. He pulled on a heavy tunic, his trousers, boots, his furs, scarf, and his dark blue traveling cloak. He did all of that as quietly as possible and then opened the chamber door to carry his luggage to the next room where he would have the servants fetch it and take it down. He did not want Ila to get up so early or to be disturbed, so once he had done all that Thorin gently laid next to her on the bed.

Leaning over her and gently shaking her awake, he called,

"Ila. Ila, my love," as softly as he could so as not to startle her.

Ila turned towards his voice and stretched a little before opening her eyes.

"Thorin?" she groggily replied.

"Yes my love," he said and kissed her lips. "It is time,"

Ila took a moment to register what that meant, then pulled him by his sleeves closer to her.

"No," she protested and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Darling," he cooed and kissed her deeply. Ila met his kiss but with more fervor.

"Don't go," she said when it broke and he held her face in his large hand.

"None of that, now." He replied and they shared one more deep and passionate kiss. He then pushed back the sheets to place a kiss on the swell of her belly before bringing the covers up to her neck again.

"I shall be back before you know it," he said and stroked her face. "I love you," he said and brought her hand to his mouth to kiss. Ila watched him and held back tears, knowing he would not like to see them. He could tell her eyes were welling though, despite her efforts.

"Go back to sleep my love. I will dream of you when I do next," Thorin said and rose, still holding her hand. She squeezed it tight and he replied with a squeeze too before gently letting her go. He then quickly made his way from the room, not wanting to see her cry and being less and less able to walk away the longer he stayed

Ila lay there, wide awake now, a single tear rolling down her face. She closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, for she could not miss him there, and time would pass while she slept.

Thorin made his way downstairs which was uncharacteristically bustling with movement at so early an hour. Those making the journey were quickly eating breakfast or making their way outside to pack their ponies. Thorin spotted his nephews who had come down to see everyone off and in Fili's case in particular to formally assume charge of Erebor. Thorin strode over to them to speak before he left, and did not even notice that Dwala was up and downstairs herself. She had finally crept to her own chambers some two hours ago, but had not finished saying her goodbyes to Dwalin yet. As such, she was there waiting for him to appear. He soon did, dressed for the journey, his cloak of a deep earthen color already slung across his shoulders.

Dwala peered around a column at him, smiling sweetly.

"What are you doing up? You should be in bed." he said lowly.

"Someone kept me up half the night, so why go now?" she quipped back at him.

Dwalin felt his ears turn red. He would spend many nights doing that, if she said yes in three weeks, he thought to himself.

"Besides, I made something for your journey," she said and he finally noticed the basket in her hands.

"What's that?" he asked, intrigued.

"It's three dozen cookies. In case you need something sweet along the way." She replied and he reached for them.

"But—don't eat them all before you reach Ered Luin. Try to make them last." She said.

Dwalin couldn't help but smirk. She knew him so well.

"No promises, lass." He said smiling and gently kissed her hand.

"I love you," he whispered and she whispered it back, lest anyone overhear them.

She slipped from the room then, their hands slowly coming apart as she moved away and Dwalin watched her go. When she was out of sight he looked down at the basket full of delicious chocolate chip cookies she had baked him. If she refused his proposal, it was going to do him in for sure, if this three weeks away from her didn't do it first.

A/N: In response to the reviewer asking if I will tie this into the movie, do you mean the LOTR movies? Because actually I think I will. The time span that this story will ultimately take will definitely mean that it will run parallel to the events through ROTK. It will be Erebor's view of the events, so some things from the movies/books will only be mentioned in passing, but I will chronicle the story of Ila through to her death. I wasn't going to originally, but the more I write the more I realize I want to write for her.