She stood and stretched out in the early morning sun. They had been on the road for nearly three weeks, pausing for a few days every week to allow for some rest. Yesterday was laundry day and her back was sore from scrubbing the children's clothes. This time they had not travelled as far south as Edoras, cutting through the great plains of the Wold and Emnet in stead. Rarely, they would come within sight of a small settlement or village, but would never stop. Rather, Thorongil would pass on, make camp within an hour's ride, and ride in to town to gather supplies before moving on. He was very much on guard now. And everyday the boys, Dwalin and Thorongil would train. Finally even she and Lola had started learning to use the bow.
Yesterday had been particularly beautiful. The weather was much improved, and all the laundry had dried in the sun while the children played, ate and played some more so that they went straight to bed by six o clock!
In the distance she could see the white mountains to the south.
They had made camp in a small meadow by a set of trees for shelter away from the road. The trees also provided cover so that other travellers would not have seen them, even when they made a small camp fire in the evening.
Again she stretched out and made her way over to the fire, which had died out, carefully placing some firewood in the centre and some dried grass and twigs inbetween to get the fire started for breakfast and warm drinks. The weather was warming up, but there was still a chill in the mornings and the nights were cold, so everyone slept inside the caravan. And while they had taken turns on watch by the fire, even Thorongil would move to watch from inside the caravan by the time the fire had died out in the early hours of the morning.
They had another ten days or so of travel, depending on the weather. But they were close to the borders of Gondor now and she could feel it.
There was something about the whole journey she had been on over these many years: from the moment she had met Thorin that day in Wales, to her arrival in Middle Earth to join their quest to reclaim Erebor and everything that had come to pass since. It had changed her.
Letting her gaze drift off into the distance again, she couldn't help but wonder what Thorin was doing now...
...
His fist connected with the man's jaw, sending him stumbling back. It was a clean hit, but apparently this man was stronger than he anticipated, given his stature. The brute faltered for a few moments before he stood up straight again, squaring back up to Thorin and smirking.
Then he began to approach. They were careful steps forward. He swung heavily this time, and then again. The oaf was clearly tiring.
After ducking the first and blocking the second, he returned a blow. He was not nasty enough to knock him from beneath. In fact this time Thorins fist landed on the opposite side of his face, such that tomorrow he would have two good bruises.
And that was it. The man stumbled again and landed on his left side, blood trickling out of his mouth as he snored.
The crowd gathered around them erupted in a loud cheer.
But in that moment he seemed to snap out of his wild rage. He could have just as easily been laying on the floor like his opponent.
He took a tentative step closer, to see whether the man was badly hurt, but several other men, crossed his path and sat the man up.
"He'll sleep it off," the tavern owner grumbled pushing a weighty pouch of coins into Thorins chest. "You have been most entertaining. You see, Bulger over there wins all the time and he's taken down some pretty large men - so you have come in as a surprise. And earned me plenty in wagers too."
Thorin took the pouch after a moments hesitation. He was not interested in the coin. He wanted the feeling that came with the thrill of it all. Just to feel something was a marvel after so long of feeling completely numb ever since SHE left.
"Theres a little extra in there. A cut from me winnings in wagers," the man continued. "Only fair...and perhaps if you ever wanted to come back and fight...?"
Thorin nodded silently and listened to the man carry on for some time until he was distracted away. Finally, he turned to move back through the crowds to Balin who sat there smoking his pipe with an amused look on his face.
"How long will you keep doing this then laddie?" He stood up quietly and handed Thorin back his shirt and jacket.
"I would have left several days ago, had all matters been ready," he muttered, getting dressed roughly. "They did not recognise me. And none of these menfolk shall..."
"All it takes is one who has met you before..." Balin advised patiently. He would not push the matter, since few dwarves would ever see sense when it came to a stubborn matter of the heart.
"Then let us make ourselves scarce." Thorin pointed, moving out of the Tavern into the cool night air. He was sweaty and thirsty, but his greatest desire to feel something once more had been quenched, at least for tonight. "When will we have supplies ready?"
"Everything is ready Thorin. We are simply waiting on Fili. And he arrives from the Blue Mountains in a few days, or so we expect. Then once you had over rule to him, you will be ready. Or...I have drawn up all the official paperwork surrounding that also..."
Thorin quirked his eyebrow in silent question of his advisor.
"They are declarations for Fili and Kili to take the throne..." Balin hesitated at first. "Well...you know... in case you never return..."
"Aye." Thorin agreed quietly. "I thought this was already agreed to and signed?"
"Fili felt that rule should go to the young Princes..." Balin explained. "So we changed it."
"Oh." He fell silent again. He regretted that he had not spent enough time with the lads already. If they were out travelling, he would have wished that he had taught them to defend themselves better. He could only hope that Dwalin would reach them fast, for he was now certain his friend had set off on what he believed was their trail.
"All things otherwise are in hand. So I shall meet with you as soon as Fili has arrived," Balin concluded as they arrived at the great entrance of Erebor. "In the mean time, I hope you are able to resist the pull of brawls..."
"I shall do my best," Thorin paused, reluctant to give his absolute word, for it was certainly one he could not promise to keep. So he reached out and tapped Balin on the arm before they both turned to return to their studies. "But should I feel the need..."
"Then I shall accompany you." Balin smiled sympathetically. Some weeks ago he had been of the same mind as his brother, believing that the woman was better off making her way back to her land. But now, however late Thorin was in his realization and remorse, he seemed determined to finally fight for the ones he loved. And as long as there was hope, perhaps it was not too late.
Thorin nodded in silent thanks. Balin had been there since the first night he had first ventured out in disguise looking for a fight without open judgement, although he was now sure that everyone else had seen the pain in his wife's heart, long before he had.
His feet had found their way back to their apartment without thinking. So he had paused a moment outside the door with his hand hovering over the doorknob, before he decided he would get cleaned up in his study without facing the emptiness of the their chambers, where the ghosts of his family still lived on silently.
Finally reaching his study, he let himself in immediately stripping off and tossing his sweat and blood stained shirt into a corner.
Then crossing over to his desk he picked up his pipe and began tapping it out, when a quiet knock at the door came.
It was late, so he imagined it was either Dis or Gloin. But when he opened the door, he found Lana standing there.
She was dressed in a softer gown, although not quite a nightgown, it was not her usual heavy velvet. The soft material was more silky and flowing, clinging to her curvy form.
He rubbed his forehead. It was late. Very late.
"Lady Lana...are you... well..?"
"My Lord! I have been so worried about you!" She exclaimed throwing her arms around his neck in a wild embrace. "I had not seen you for some days now.. and wanted to check on you."
"I have...been...busy..." He patted her back gently in reciprocation. "There is no need to worry..."
"Oh but my Lord, you look as though you have not slept, nor eaten properly..." She pulled back to examine his face. "By Mahal! What happened to your face?!"
She reached up to the bruises.
"Allow me to clear the blood and clean the blood from your face..."
"There is no need, my lady, it was merely a few minor injuries while sparring," he explained stepping away from her and wiping his face with a handkerchief to wipe away any residual blood. "How may I help you, Lady Lana?"
"If I may be so bold...I worry about you, my Lord..." She spoke quietly. "You are not being looked after as you should...as you deserve...after so many years of duty to your people, and then reclaiming your great kingdom..."
He seemed to halt at his desk, his handkerchief in hand, although he was not facing her, he was clearly listening intently.
She didn't want to specifically mention his poor choice of wife or his mixed race children, who clearly looked more man than dwarf. No, that would only rile a stubborn dwarf unwilling to see truth. Instead she would be gentle. She had after all been entirely patient for a long time, and he took had willingly spent more time with her and her son than his own family of late. And certainly there was no need to mention the gaping absence of his consort and children either. She imagined and hoped that they had been sent away somewhere, as some of the talk in the mountain had gone.
"My Lord...let us look after you..." She continued softly.
He suddenly felt terribly self conscious for being alone with her in his study so late at night...and he was still bare-chested after he had thrown his shirt off earlier.
He turned to find her standing close.
She looked up at him through her lashes, offering him her most inviting smile. The tops of her breasts heaved, as she could feel her breath falling faster from the excitement. Her porcelain skin glowed by the warm light of the candles.
"Let me look after you..." She whispered the words.
It was now or never.
And so standing on tiptoe, placing her hand on his chest, she leant up to kiss him...
...