TW: Pregnancy, Thorin being a big old grump

Chapter 12

"You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming." - Pablo Neruda

Thorin knows it's another dream, though it takes only a moment to know this room. This is the council room, with the great table at which his grandfather and father taught him how to manage Erebor's traders, merchant class and negotiations. Vaulted ceilings with domed skylights made from amber and quartz spilling a golden glow on the dark green-gray marble table and high back chairs made from the same marble. The Durin crest at the top of each, embedded with gold.

Someone has changed the upholstery on the back and seating to a dark, emerald green. The color was a ruby red when he was young. There is a cloth runner down the table, the same green with the Durin crest stitched in gold, silver and bronze embroidery at regular intervals. Gold, silver and bronze braided tassels hang off the edge of the table. A small assortment of foods, some he recognizes some he does not.

He is seated next to his queen.

Mahal. She steals his breath away.

With her hair in braids and her curls piled high, her skin almost glowing with warmth from within, and a pregnant belly of at least five months, he almost does not immediately recognize Erdene Thoroughfare. She is beautiful in a way he could never have imagined. The delicate golden crown his grandmother once wore, the compliment to his grandfather's, sat neatly on her head, surrounded by her curls and braids.

Thorin does recognize the twin amethysts looped into her braids, and several more stones. More than five. There are eight at least. And she is older. There is now sparse silver in her mahogany curls.

They are listening to Balin speak. Her hands are neatly folded on the table but her right leg from the knee down, under the table is pressed against his left. It feels like a familiar thing between them.

Balin finishes, bowing.

Everyone is looking at him expectantly. Thorin dismisses everyone, including Balin. The moment the doors close at the back of the hall, Erdene puts both hands on the top of her belly. He wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"The babe?" He asks in low tones.

She nods silently and leans herself against his chest and shoulder. "You'd think after eight kids this would have gotten a little easier."

Eight. Mahal. Eight? He counts the braids, four with two beads each. Eight dwarflings.

He slides his arm lower, hand pressing against her lower spine. She moans softly, pressing her face into his neck. He kisses her temple, stroking her hair with his other hand while maintaining the back rub. "Are you well enough for our next meeting or would you rather return to our quarters?"

Her cool lips press against his neck. "Just rub my back a little bit longer please. Then we can go."

He cups her chin tilting her head back. Clear honey brown, happiness despite pain. "My wife," he murmurs, pressing his mouth to hers, "you are stronger than most I know."

She smiles, it's watery and pained, but she kisses him back. "I am queen of Erebor, I refuse to look weak in front of our people."

He spends another few minutes breaking the knots in her back. Her whimpers, sighs and moans are both pain and pleasure. His body reacts. Her hand slides between his legs, stroking his hardness.

"Your libido."

He hums, removing her hand. "The sounds you make remind my body I haven't been inside you for a day, wife."

She kisses his cheek, his chin, his pulse. "If I could get away with not messing up my dress, you'd totally get head right now." One of his eyebrows rose in response. "But we both know tongues will wag if I am seen returning to our quarters with white stains on my dress because you spilled out of my mouth and down my bodice."

He growls, low in his throat and kisses her again, their tongues warring. He pulls her into his lap, her fingers stroke his beard, the sides of his face. She grinds down into him.

And then she whimpers.

He can feel their child kick her hard. Mahal. May this one calm before its birth. It took months for her lower ribs to heal from Theren's birth. The bruises she carried weeks afterwards. The boy kicked like an angry mule inside her. Afterwards, he was by far the calmest of their children.

Thorin would rather the child be calm inside her rather than calm once born. His one did not deserve this kind of abuse.

"Cock blocked by our own baby." She grumbles, sliding out of his lap to stand.

He too stands, one hand on their child inside her and one at the back of her neck. He kisses her forehead. "Later my love."

She sighs, fixing his clothes and her own, "fine, but I expect you to fuck me senseless later."

His hands slide down her arms to take her hands. He brings them to his lips, kissing the back of her knuckles. She has a preference for the darker, rougher quality he takes with his voice when they are intimate. "With pleasure."

She flushes pink. He never gets tired of making her turn pink for him.

He woke once more with a hardness between his legs that took longer to resolve itself than the last had. He had a suspicion there would come a day when the only satisfaction he would have would be found between his one's thighs. Thankfully today was not that day. Though… That day may never come. Not after what he said last night to Erdene. His one. Mahal. His one. She is his one.

And she is a child of men.

And he hurt her.

He scrubbed one hand over his face, the other going to the back of his neck. Mahal, Aulë, Valar, why? Why is she a woman? Aye, she could pass as a dwarrow-dam, perhaps, but…but he is the heir to the throne. Even if his father were to return now, to be found whole and alive…Thorin would still be heir apparent. He would still be required to marry a dwarrow-dam with title and ties to nobility.

Mahal. This was a mess.

Getting out of bed this morning had been a chore. Dragging herself down to dwarven district, equally a chore. Christ almighty, even opening the door to the shop was a chore it felt so dang heavy. She slept later than normal too. Even after her mother and Wilhelm had dissipated she had trouble sleeping.

Erdene walked in with a small sigh at her own tiredness and turned her attention to the counter.

It had been so much of a chore she had absent-mindedly walked into Zarin's instead of Valis'. Well shit. Harjl, who raised his head from his work on some very lovely golden gilded slippers to call out welcome, scowled at her.

Meekly she gave him a wan smile in return and said, "hi…um…just checking in about my boots?"

He muttered something in a language that she didn't know the name of and called rather loudly to his wife. Ery could hear Zarin coming by the gentle click-tap-clack of her hair beads. Unlike her husband, Zarin broke into a pleasantly surprised expression upon seeing Erdene.

"Your ears must have been ringing, lass, I just finished them this past evening." Zarin waved her hand at the chair by the fitting area. "Sit, I'll bring them. Won't be a tick."

It felt like more than a tick with Harjl glowering at her from under his bushy eyebrows like she stole his favorite puppy. He either really didn't like humans or he had terrible customer service skills. Either way, Erdene was relieved when Zarin returned. Zarin smacked his right shoulder with the back of her hand as she passed, "wipe that looks off your face if you don't want me to fetch the switch." Then she gave him a look that had him turning a dull red shade.

"Away with your threats you harpy." Harjl, now that he spoke clearly for the first time, actually had a very nice voice. Not too baritone, with British overtones, but a vaguely north Irish brogue. And the way he looked at his wife. The glance Zarin gave him over her shoulder.

Oh. Wow.

Despite being tired, sad, lonesome and homesick, it warmed Erdene a little to see the happy couple teasing one another.

Did she ever look at Caleb like that? Did he ever look at her like that? Maybe she should have just said yes to him back then. It would have been at least two years before they even got married. He would have moved up at NASA by then. Maybe she would have gotten a job there too. Maybe they would have had a baby.

God. The baby she had in her dream with Thorin the other night. That felt so real. And twins. Twin girls with curly hair and tiny button noses. Their eyes would be blue just like his. And they would grow up with parents that loved them with everything and-

Thorin.

Why, why, why did she keep coming back to fucking Thorin Oakenshield of all the fucking people in this entire fucking world. Dead dwarf walking. Handsome, built like a brick wall, voice made of sin, rude, capricious, dick.

A strong hand came down on her right shoulder along with Zarin asking gently, "Lass, are you well?"

"Sorry, sorry," Erdene sniffed, "I'm sorry. Just, rough night and then I had this dream about my ex boyfriend and it brought up all these old feelings." Erdene shook her head, sniffling and wiping at her face and nose. "Just give me a second. I'll be okay."

She didn't expect a handkerchief to appear in front of her face with a slightly less grumpy looking Harjl holding it out to her. She took it with a small, "Thank you, but I'll be okay. I still have to go pick up my coat from Valis." She gave them both a small, sheepish if downturned at the edges grin.

"I'll walk with you lass." Zarin offered.

"You'll not walk her. I will." Harjl harrumphed at them both.

Zarin, both hands on her hips, and now that Erdene took a better look, there was a little plumpness there that wasn't there the last time. "I can take her, it's less than a block!"

Hands on his hips, leaning into his wife's space, "you'll not. You're lucky I let you come down the stairs today!"

Erdene, glancing between them both, oh. Well. Shit. "You're too early in your pregnancy to get your blood pressure up, sugar."

The dwarrow-dam, blinked at her, the argument with her husband stopping outright. "Sugar?"

"Sorry." Erdene apologized quickly, "Zarin."

Then she put her hand over her small belly. "Aye, suppose you're not wrong, but how did you know? I only found out two days ago."

Didn't she see how her body had changed? Weird. "Um…you're rounder, hips and belly." Erdene motioned to both areas. "Last time I saw you, you were a little more muscular. Now you're softer. And you've got pregnancy glow."

Which earned her twin stares of what now?

Oh my god. "During your first term there is an increase in blood flow to support the growth of the fetus," Harjl's brow drew together hearing her, "baby, that it's increasing your sex drive and making your skin glowy and flushed."

Zarin's skin reddened at her neck and apples of her cheeks. "Hear that, my love?" She elbowed her husband. "I'm supposed to want you."

Harjl, without missing a beat replied, "Aye, Rin, and I'll give you what you want, after I walk the child to Valis."

Rin. How adorable he called her Rin. Stifling a small giggle, Erdene wiped again at her still leaking eyes. "I'm thirty Harjl. Haven't been a kid for over a decade."

His quasi-scowl dropped completely in exchange for a furrowed brow. "You're a daughter of man?" He sounded so genuinely surprised.

It was shocking enough to stall her tears. "Um, yeah, human."

The furrow between his brows eased too. "I thought you'd be at least a quarter."

"Everyone says that." Erdene told them both, "but I'm just a little human woman." She added a small shrug for their benefit.

Zarin elbowed him again, nodding at Erdene. "Go on."

He sighed, "my apologies miss. I thought you were one of us and your brothers and father weren't protecting you as they should."

Oh. Oh. Harjl didn't dislike her because she's human. He didn't like that she was walking around by herself. She'd read something about male dwarrow protecting their female counterparts by shielding them from the public eye. But…then, why did Zarin work in the front of her shop and why did Valis have her own shop? Was it okay because they were in the dwarven district?

Zarin held out the boots, "Alright, you try these and make sure they fit. Then my ass of a husband will walk you over, yeah?"

Try them on she did, and once Zarin seemed pleased with the fit, Erdene paid her balance and began walking the short distance to Valis' shop with Harjl. They didn't talk, but, as she observed, he was actually quite protective of her. He had her stand on his left, out of the traffic of other dwarves passing. The one or two dwarves who gave her a once over got an almost hostile look from Harjl before he moved into their line of view, blocking their view of her. He opened the door to Valis' shop for her, waited until Valis greeted them, and then took his leave.

Erdene watched him walk past the single window and out of sight before saying, "that had to be the weirdest thing anyone has ever done for me. Ever."

Valis, who had been sewing the last toggle into Erdene's new cream and brown coat, raised one eyebrow. "Hmm?"

Approaching the counter Ery waved at the door. "Harjl, he got all hostile at any guy that gave me a once over while we were walking."

Sniggering, "lass, get used to it. If you ever win over that fella you fancy, it'll be just the…" her voice died as she looked up from her work to see Ery's young face having fallen. Poor thing almost looked ashen. "Mahal's hammer, what's happened?"

The girl picked at a small dent in the wooden counter. "Doesn't matter. He's not…" The breath she took was hard and harsh and her voice caught when Ery managed, "he snapped at me last night and I genuinely don't want to be around him today. I was thinking of just going home after this." Even if Cathy gave her big worried eyes and Warren took thinly veiled pot shots at her.

That man was getting on her last damn nerve. She'd been raised as a lady. A southern lady was many things. Hospitable, graceful, demure, polite and kind to a fault. But damn if he didn't make her want to lose her religion and smack him one. Honestly.

Valis on the other hand, pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Never let him cow you. Ever. You're the female, our males occasionally need to be reminded their stubbornness and bullheaded behavior won't be taken in stride." She spared Erdene a significant look, one she hoped conveyed the importance of her words.

Erdene wished she had half as much spine as Valis had right then.

Once the coat was done, Valis tried another series of pep talks that fell on somewhat deaf ears before ushering Erdene out of the shop.

And for a few minutes, Ery really did start walking toward her spot in the plaza. Her coat was warm and it fit so well. Her pockets were wool lined. It almost made her feel a little closer to normal. Then she thought about showing it off to Thorin and then, again, she remembered the way he treated her last night and she stilled on her walk.

I don't want to be around Thorin. Erdene set herself off to the side, allowing the foot traffic to go unimpeded by her stalling. Breathe. The stinging in her palms and limbs, a familiar anxiety based reaction. Breathe. The stone building is dirty off white around her. People going to and from their destinations. Humans like her.

Dwarves like Thorin.

Damn it. Her palms stung something awful and her breathing was threateningly quick. No. No. No. That spot in her chest pinched. The spot right below her breastbone that alway pinched right before she stood on the edge of an anxiety attack.

Breathe.

She turned away from the people, put her hand against the tight spot and tried to breathe normally. Tried to massage the area. Tried to tell herself to calm down. To breathe and count the cobble as stones at her feet. Leaves, wet from the short storm they had last night, clung to the gray stones making them slicker. The alcove she turned into wasn't very wide or long but-

This is where that asshole attacked me.

The shock of realizing it was enough to distract her from the anxiety threatening to take hold. She blinked at the walls, at the cobblestones beneath her feet. This alley that seemed so much bigger in the moment. Where every second of ten years of training went out the window because she tried to rely on a taser. Because her fight or flight kicked into overdrive.

Where Thorin, a complete stranger, cared enough to save her life. Sky-blue eyes so much darker in the evening than in the day. Pools of navy blue in the moonlight. And he'd been so warm. He'd been nice. He gave her a hand to help her up.

Something happened last night. Something big. Before she came into the shop. Or maybe just after? Something that put him so on edge that he let that infamous temper of his take hold.

It couldn't have been something she did. She was gone all day. Or maybe it was because she was gone all day? No. That's not it.

But then, really, she'd only known Thorin for about a week. They met last Thursday. Right here in this little alley.

This shouldn't hurt at all.

Erdene blinked and felt the burn of tears. Except it did hurt. Stupid crush. Stupid me.

Eventually she finished her walk to her spot in the small plaza. It was later than she normally arrived, the hustle and bustle of life going on around her. She didn't even spot some of her regulars. Okay. Like always she opened the makeshift violin case and removed her instrument. She set her empty purse on the ground.

She could hear the steady hammering of Thorin across the short distance between them. Erdene had to tell herself silently not to look over there. Don't wave. Don't smile. Don't.

Just play.

She felt eyes on her.

Breathe.

Don't look.

Breathe.

Play.

It took her a moment, with the nervous pressure of eyes on her and the proximity to the one person she really did not want to see today. She had practiced a little this morning before she got up. Despite her perfect recall, the names and chords were taking a vacation from her memory. Fucking anxiety. Erdene, holding the violin under her chin, closed her eyes and breathed out.

The words of her violin tutor came, When in doubt sweetie, play what you know.

What she did know, the way she won competitions, was Disney music.

"I've never seen a female minstrel." A familiar voice called from six or seven feet away some time a little after the first afternoon bell.

Erdene, who had been double checking her bow - it felt strangely tight during the last song - watched Dean O'Gorman, otherwise known as Fíli in this world, cross his arms over his chest. He wore his blonde hair in braids, just like she remembered and his almost buttermilk colored leather coat to block the cold. He had a cocky little smirk on his stupidly pretty face.

Raising an eyebrow at him. "At your age? How sheltered are you?"

His answering grin was playful and unrestrained. Dear God if she wasn't absolutely bonkers for his uncle she would give Fíli the time of day. Maybe more than that.

The best way to get over somebody is to get under someone else.

But that might be weird.

Or not.

No. It would be. And kind of felt gross?

"I wouldn't say sheltered, my lady." He winked, and stroked his beard and-

Oh. My. God. He's flirting.

With me.

And then the stupid traitors she had for eyes strayed to see if Thorin was paying attention. Which, it seemed he was because she definitely caught him as he was turning back to his work rather than staying focused on his work. Was he looking at her or at his nephew or the interaction or-

Fíli caught it, the quickest of glances toward his uncle and the small frown that went with it. Now what was that about? Did the lovely lass know his uncle? She might, they worked no more than a few yards apart.

"If not sheltered," she drew his attention back to her and the laughing grin she directed at him while batting large innocent blue-green eyes, "then voluntarily inexperienced?"

Oof. Ow. Vicious vixen. He put one hand over his heart. "You wound me lass."

"Oh, dear," she touched the fingers of one hand to her mouth for just a moment, as if she were truly worried, then followed with, "a wounded male ego, however will you cope?"

His mother would adore someone with a quick wit and an equally fast tongue. "And here I was thinking how lovely and sweet you looked playing that last song."

Neither of them noticed Thorin looking up as she laughed, "Didn't anyone ever tell you, never to judge a book by its cover?"

Mahal. Let me dream of her. Fili begged the maker silently.

He took a handful of steps to close some distance between them. He bowed, one hand over his heart, "Fíli, son of Dís." He looked up at her in her pretty blue-gray dress, "may I please know your name fair lady?"

He said please. Don't look at Thorin. Don't look at Thorin.

Don't. Look. At. Thorin.

He made himself clear. He doesn't want you around.

Biting her lower lip, a move that drew his attention to her mouth and made his lips part, Erdene stepped down from her box. He was a little shorter, though she was smaller than him through the shoulders, hips, legs. She held a hand out to him. "Erdene Thoroughfare, daughter of Evelyn."

Fíli caught her hand with one of his, bringing it to his lips for a kiss on the back of her hand that sent the most becoming flush of pink over her. All over her. Cheeks, ears, neck, the hand he was holding. Boldly he pulled her hand and placed it on his chest. Let her feel how his heartbeat began to race for her. The pink of her skin became a scarlet, the fingers of her hand curling on his chest. Then, Mahal, she bit her lower lip and looked at him from beneath a fringe of dark lashes.

"Tell me how I can see you again?" He begged, watching her eyes shift colors from blue-green to almost gray.

It's a horrible feeling. Looking into warm velvet brown eyes when you want them to be sky blue. Looking at a smiling face that has no idea you have zero interest. He doesn't deserve to be strung along and she has never been that woman. She had her hand on his heartbeat, she could feel the skip of it in his chest. And she didn't feel a goddamn thing.

The hand on his chest removed itself quickly. He caught an almost guilty glance from him to the shop before she stepped backwards putting distance between them.

"I'm here every day except Sunday." She told him before one more glance, a longer one this time, at his uncle who was now hammering away at something far harder than he needed to.

Fíli whistled to himself as he walked into his uncle's chosen place of employment. The blacksmith his uncle chose to work for was absent. Fíli glanced over his shoulder, "She's a pretty thing, isn't she?"

His uncle did not pause for a single breath. "I hadn't noticed." And yet, his jaw ticked like it did whenever he had more to say and was cutting himself off. His uncle had a temper, most of their family did. His uncle's tended to burn hotter than most. His words would come quick, vicious and cut to the bone.

"Shame," Fíli said, allowing his gaze to roam over her once more.

Thorin's jaw ticked again.

For the briefest instant, Thorin's gaze also flicked to the female minstrel and away just as quickly. If Fíli had not been watching, he wouldn't have seen it. There was almost a hint of longing there. From both of them.

Fíli decided to keep on tugging the string of the lead he found. "I've never seen one of them look like one of us before. Do you think-"

His uncle's gaze was icy. "She is of men, Fíli. You cannot-"

"I can," he shot back with a smirk, "and I just might. After all, your one is found, is she not? I'll be replaced as heir in thirty years, mayhap less." His uncle said nothing, though his jaw ticked once more and now the pulse of his neck had doubled in speed. "Amad had Kíli post the invitations," Fíli watched the faintest of winces cross his uncle's face, "this morning. Thirty-five dam will be arriving on the seventeenth to meet with you. I imagine you will be happily courting your one before the end of the year." Fíli rocked back on his heels, turning his attention back to Erdene Thoroughfare who might be part of this story he was uncovering. She was playing a slow song with high notes that sounded like remorse.

Was every song today sad?

The one she played when he arrived had been. He decided to tug further, push a little harder. He wanted to have a better idea of what happened. If anything happened. Which, he suspected, something may have. "I wonder if Mistress Thoroughfare might agree to spend some time with me this evening."

Thorin nearly threw the cooling metal he'd been working into the bucket beside him. "You will not."

Fíli's answering grin was victorious. "Why? Unless she is yours, there's no harm in my spending time with a pretty young lady."

The dark, angry glare his uncle leveled on him was no doubt meant to make him shrink.

If Fíli hadn't been raised as his uncle's successor and heir, he just might have. But the thread he had been tugging on was unraveling now. He had a better idea of what last night had been about.

Something between his uncle and the young minstrel. Something that left her glancing at his uncle with longing. Left her with a sad gaze. Equally something that set his uncle off to demand to meet every eligible dam in the district.

Now who was at fault?

Knowing his uncle, and the nature of dwarrow, probably his uncle. He didn't know the young minstrel well enough to say she wasn't at fault, but, if he was to bet money on it. A shame. If he's right, and he thinks he is, he'll never get to see where things could have led with the lady minstrel.

"Amad said to let you know tonight's meal is roasted lamb." Fíli told his uncle, changing the subject entirely before Thorin could get any further riled up. "And roasted rosemary potatoes."

The change of subject seemed to deflate his uncle's posture, if only a little. "Aye, I'll be home by dinner." Thorin replied gruffly.

Fíli nodded, wisely holding his tongue until he was just outside the archway of the shop. He called back in Khuzdûl, "I'm sure amad won't be too angry if you're a little later like you have been lately."

Thorin said nothing as his sister's son walked away. The lad stopped before Erd- Mistress Thoroughfare and tossed a few silver in her purse before walking off, no doubt to find his equally troublesome brother. If the boy wasn't his heir… Their mother would have Thorin's head if anything happened to them. Either of them.

The hum of a violin playing much too sadly drew his attention yet again. Mahal. He should have known a few harsh words wouldn't chase his one off. Stubborn as the nights were growing long.

The coins he brought with him this morning weighed heavy in his pocket and on his mind most of the day. The custom for wrongfully harming one not kin was payment in value of the harm done. Yet, what does a dwarrow give his one when he has harmed her?

He gathered fifteen coins. He went to his place of employ and waited for her to arrive. When she didn't appear at the normal time, he'd been all but certain he scared her off. Then she did appear and spared him not a single glance.

Mahal. The mess he'd made.

If you hadn't already figured it out, I like writing spice. Spice is fun. If you're not a fan, you should probably stop reading this story. There will be LOTS of spice in about ten chapters.