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Chapter Text

"Alright, Ovar," Freyja stood up and wiped her brow with the back of her arm, "Your ponies are ready to go. Come back and see me in six weeks."

For the past hour Freyja had been working on Ovar's plow team of four ponies. Their hooves had been in rough shape due to Ered Luin's rough terrain. With a bit of love and the help of a hoof file, Freyja had been able to repair and smooth out their dry and cracking feet.

"Thank you very much, Freyja. You work wonders on these ponies." Ovar complimented as he began to hitch his mounts one by one to the wagon waiting outside of Freyja's barn.

"They will be rather tender for a day or two, so I'd give them some well deserved rest. Be sure to apply that salve I gave you to their hooves every couple of days. It'll help combat the cracking." Freyja advised, wiping her hands on the front of her leather apron as she leaned against the barn door.

"Your price is still ten per pony, correct?" Ovar wondered, digging into his pockets for a pouch of coins. Freyja nodded with a smile. Her prices were significantly lower than many of the other farriers in Ered Luin, but she liked to think that her work was much better. Her many faithful customers, such as Ovar and plenty of other farmers in the town, seemed to think so as well. Being a farrier was only her side job, however. Freyja was also a practiced blacksmith who made her own horseshoes, and on occasion, weapons. "Here you are, my dear. When I see you next time I will be sure to bring you a basket of vegetables as well."

"Oh, you know how much I love your vegetables. Say hello to Dara for me, won't you?" Freyja accepted the pouch of coins and waved as Ovar clucked to his team of ponies, signaling for them to walk on. The ponies did indeed look tender footed as they pulled the wagon down the road, but in a day or two they would be back in good shape.

By then the sun was beginning to set on the horizon and it was time to close up shop for the evening. It had been a long, exhausting day and Freyja was ready to lock up, sink into a warm bath, and indulge in a large tankard of ale. Freyja was a rather young dwarrowdam who lived alone beside her smithy, which was an old barn, at the edge of town. Her mother and father hailed from Erebor, the Lonely Mountain that had been attacked and taken by Smaug the Terrible, a fire drake from the North. When Erebor went up in flames, Freyja was only a small child. Her mother had died carrying her from the burning mountain, and her father had passed decades later after settling down in Ered Luin amongst the rest of the exiled dwarves.

Though her father had been devastated and heartbroken after losing his One, he did not give up hope. He cared for his daughter, raised her to be a hardworking and respectable young woman, and had taught her everything she needed to know in order to be a successful blacksmith so that she could support herself. Freyja missed him every day, but was thankful that her father had finally been reunited with the mother that she had only briefly known.

Her father had always told her that she inherited her mother's looks and his personality. Freyja was a short, curvy dwarrowdam with a mane of long, wavy black hair that fell to her waist. Her eyes were a soft, light hazel green and her skin was fair. Every day she seemed to resemble the portrait of her mother that her father kept on the mantle more and more. Freyja may have looked like a delicate beauty, but she was indeed the opposite. Much like her father, she was tough, independent, and skilled with a hammer. She was not a dwarrowdam who shied away from manual labor. Many dams that were the same age as Freyja were beginning to marry and have children, but she had little desire to follow in their footsteps. Freyja would not be content with settling down so early, for she wished to travel and see what the world had to offer before putting down permanent roots in Ered Luin with a man twice her age.

Freyja had been cleaning up her farrier kit when a rap on the barn door caused her to stop and look over her shoulder. There stood a man, a tall one at that, wearing grey robes and a pointed hat to match. His hair was long and grey, and so was the beard upon his face. He held a wooden staff in one hand and the reigns of a tall, chestnut brown horse in the other. Freyja had never seen the man before in her life, but she did not get an uneasy feeling from the stranger.

"Excuse me, my dear, but would you possibly have time to shoe one last horse this evening?" The man asked in a gentle, kind voice. Though she was tired, Freyja would not turn the man, or his coin, away, "Tomorrow I set off for the Shire and I am afraid that the road is far too rough for my mount to go barefoot."

"You are correct, sir. Bring him into the barn and I will see what I can do for you." She motioned for the man to lead his horse into the aisle way. The horse's hooves clopped over the stone flooring and then came to a halt before Freyja, and she then attached the cross ties to the side of his halter to keep him still and steady. She was not used to working with horses so large, for most dwarves in Ered Luin rode only ponies due to their short stature.

"Thank you. You are most kind to help an old man at such a late hour," He extended his hand, offering it to the dwarrowdam that stood nearly two feet shorter than himself, "My name is Gandalf the Grey."

Freyja accepted his hand and shook it, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Gandalf. I am Freyja. Who is this beautiful boy?"

"Ah, his name is Monty. We've been together for some time now and I know that he does not fare well without shoes when the path gets too rocky." Horses were big, mighty animals, but they were rather frail in reality. The bottoms of their hooves were sensitive and often became bruised when made to walk on hard, rocky terrains.

"Well, Monty, I'll have to go grab some larger shoes for you," Freyja chuckled as she offered the gelding her hand to sniff, "I am not used to shoeing horses with such big feet!" The dwarrowdam entered her tack room and dug through her store of horse shoes. Luckily she was able to find four shoes that would likely fit the horse, but she would soon have to prepare more in case another customer with a larger mount were to stop by.

"Alright, let's take a look at those hooves, shall we?" Freyja set the shoes on top of her farrier kit and ran her hand down Monty's front left leg, slowly making her way down to his ankle. With a cluck she lifted his hoof and set it atop a metal stand in front of him. Freyja immediately went to work with her hoof file, trimming and shortening the gelding's long toe. Thankfully, Monty was very patient and made no move to kick or run out of the barn. Freyja had lost count of the amount of times that an angry pony had struck out at her or stepped on her.

"I must ask, did you make these shoes yourself? They are wonderfully crafted." Gandalf admired, picking up one of the shoes and inspecting it closely.

"Yes, I did. Thank you. My father taught me when I was very young so I have had a bit of practice." Freyja explained as she grabbed one of the remaining shoes and placed it against the bottom of Monty's hoof. It would need a few minor adjustments before it could be nailed in, so she set it on the stand and bent it into shape with her hammer. A bead of sweat broke out above her brow as she worked.

"I hope I am not keeping you from your family this evening, my dear. I apologize."

"No, there is nothing to be sorry for," She dismissed his apology as she worked on nailing the shoe into Monty's hoof, "My father passed a few years ago, and my mother long before him when Erebor was attacked by the dragon. I am alone out here."

"Erebor, you say? You lived there, then?" Gandalf inquired as Freyja moved on to shaping the next hoof. Though she was born and lived in Erebor briefly, she did not remember much about it at all. The only memories she had of the place were the old, faded scars upon her back that she received on the day Smaug had descended. When she thought of Erebor she could only picture fire and destruction.

"I was only a tiny dwarfling when my family lived there, but yes. My father and I came here after the attack to make a new life for ourselves. He started this smithy and passed on his knowledge to me so that I would be able to take over the business after his death."

"I am truly sorry for your losses," Gandalf apologized with sincerity. When Freyja gave him a soft smile in return he continued speaking, "Perhaps you know of my friend that I am meeting in the Shire, then. Does the name Thorin Oakenshield ring any bells?"

"How could it not? He is the heir to the throne of Erebor. He lives here in Ered Luin himself, though I have never formally met him, only seen him in passing. I hear that he charges an arm and a leg for his smith work."

Gandalf chuckled as he watched Freyja work on his horse. Thorin Oakenshield indeed had moved on to Ered Luin with his younger sister, brother, and father; Lady Dis, Prince Frerin, and King Thrain, after the dragon attacked Erebor. Much like Freyja, he had lost the majority of his family in the fire and the Battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin's only true remaining family were Lady Dis and her two sons. He had been very skilled in black smithing, even more so than Freyja's father, and specialized in weapon crafting. Thorin's creations were reliable, beautiful, and worth every coin.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your business here in Ered Luin if Thorin is not here? Why has he gone all the way to the Shire?" Freyja wondered as she nailed in the second shoe. Thorin lived there in the Blue Mountains, it would make much more sense for Gandalf to meet him there after he returned instead of trekking so far.

"I am here to collect his two nephews, Fili and Kili, and some other friends while Thorin is visiting his cousin in the Iron Hills, discussing business. The Shire is the home of his company's final member, so we shall meet and depart from there."

"This all sounds very secretive, but it is not my business so I shall not pry." Freyja began to shape the third shoe for Monty. By then she was nearly drenched in sweat and her back was beginning to ache from the constant bending over.

"Actually, my dear, it very well could be your business," Gandalf said with a twinkle in his eye, "Thorin is in need of as many people as he can find, and he has made it my mission to find members for his company. We have warriors, a healer, a wizard, a leader, and will acquire a burglar in the Shire as I mentioned, but we do not have someone so skilled with ponies and their care."

"What exactly does Thorin need a company for?" Freyja nailed the third shoe in and moved on to the fourth. To be honest, Freyja felt as if she already knew what was afoot. There was only one reason that Thorin Oakenshield, the exiled prince of Erebor, would be gathering an army, and that was to retake the mountain from Smaug.

"It is time for the dwarves to return to the mountain." Gandalf answered simply. Freyja couldn't help but let out a laugh as she filed Monty's front right hoof. It was a foolish mistake to return to the mountain, wasn't it? Smaug had killed hundreds, perhaps even thousands of dwarves when he attacked the mountain, and Thorin thought he could slay the beast with only a small company? It seemed as if the only remaining heirs of Durin would perish in this fool's endeavor.

Freyja finished her work in silence. Monty had been wonderfully patient and well behaved, which had made her job quick and easy. The sun had finally set, so only the hanging lanterns illuminated the barn. "I believe we are finished, my dear Monty." Freyja patted his neck and began organizing her farrier kit, packing her tools away in the rolling metal cart. She stripped out of her heavy leather apron and hung it on the tack room door, relieved to be rid of the extra weight.

"You think us to be foolish, do you not?" Gandalf wondered as he untied the cross ties and took hold of Monty's reigns.

"Many dwarves died by the fire of that worm, my mother included, so I do think you to be a bit mad. What is even more crazy is that the only remaining heirs of Durin are going into that mountain. What if all three of them die while attempting to slay the beast? Who will take the throne then?"

"Dain Ironfoot, the very man that Thorin is currently meeting with in the Iron Hills, would be the next in line for the throne, if he survives, that is. That is why Thorin has gone to visit with him; he is hoping to talk Dain and an army of men into accompanying us to Erebor." Gandalf explained.

"I fear that he will refuse." Freyja admitted plainly as she wiped her brow with the back of her arm. Dain would surely not risk the lives of his men, or his own life, to take back the lost mountain. Especially when he had a kingdom of his own to rule.

"That, my dear Freyja, is why we need every sword that we can get," Gandalf clucked to his mount and led him out of the barn doors and into the moonlight. Freyja followed behind the gelding at a safe distance and then leaned against the barn door as she had done before when Ovar departed. "There will be fifteen ponies on this journey, perhaps sixteen, and they will surely need to be taken care of as we travel across this unforgiving terrain. I have seen your craftsmanship and the way you work with these animals. You are truly gifted and would be an asset to Thorin's company. Tell me, can you wield a sword?"

"Yes, it was another thing that my father taught me before his passing." Freyja answered, watching the old man climb upon his horse and dig a pouch of coins out of the saddle bag. He tossed it to the young dwarrowdam and she caught it in her fist.

"Even better. Perhaps if you feel like taking an adventure and seeing the mountain you once called home, you will join us in the Shire. You will be paid handsomely at the end of the journey, should it be successful, and you will return home with as much gold as you can carry."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I will have to give the matter a little more thought before deciding. I do have a business to run and a home to take care of here."

"Indeed you do, but if you should decide to take me up on my offer, look for the Hobbit hole with an emerald door and a blue marking. I hope to see you soon, my dear Freyja."

...

Freyja sank into the steaming water with a sigh, leaning back against the wooden wall of the tub. A hot bath after working on ten ponies was a must, for her muscles were sore and aching. She reached for the tankard of ale sitting atop the edge of the bathtub and took a long sip of the cold fluid. Never had an ale tasted so good.

Freyja did not emerge from her bath until the water had run cold and the tankard had gone empty. She had spent the majority of her time thinking of Gandalf's offer, running the pros and cons of joining the company through her head over and over. "Let's see. Pros: An adventure, as much gold as I could possibly want, my name written in history books, new friends, and a home in Erebor. Cons: A long journey, no hot baths, no ale, a sore bum from riding, a sore back from shoeing sixteen ponies, and possible death." It was no doubt that the cons outweighed the pros, but by the time she had finished washing, she was leaning towards accepting Gandalf's offer.

Freyja had no real reason to remain in Ered Luin. Yes, she had a successful business and a cozy home, but she had no family and no true friends besides the pony in her pasture. Joining Thorin Oakenshield's company would allow her to finally get out and see the world, and would connect her with other dwarves that had once lived in the Lonely Mountain.

Freyja stepped out the tub and patted herself dry with an old towel, then stepped through the doorway into her bedroom where the crackling fire and warm bed were waiting. The dwarrowdam discarded the towel and replaced it with a fresh nightgown before sliding beneath the soft sheets and resting her head upon her pillow. Due to having such a long, exhausting day of work, Freyja had thought that she would fall asleep quickly after getting into bed, but it was quite the opposite. Instead she found herself gazing up at the ceiling, watching the shadows of the fire flicker there.

Freyja tossed and turned for what seemed like forever until she finally made a decision. She would pack her things in the morning, saddle her pony, and ride to the Shire where she would meet Gandalf and join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. It felt as if it were the right decision to make. Erebor had been her home, the place where her parents had been born and raised, and she would do all that she could to help Thorin and his friends take it back from the dragon that had exiled them all.

Chapter Text

Freyja woke when the sun began to peek over the horizon. The dwarrowdam rose from her bed and neatly made up the blankets. She then went on to dress in a pair of breeches and a light tunic, but made sure to pack a few extra garments including a fur lined coat for when the weather began to cool. Freyja wove her dark locks into a simple braid, for it was frowned upon for dwarrowdams to walk about with their hair undone. Hair was very sacred in dwarvish culture. Touching another's hair was seen as an act of intimacy, and only when courting is it appropriate to braid the opposite genders. Freyja had yet to meet her One, her soul mate, but she was content with being on her own for now. Though she couldn't deny that she was curious to know what it felt like to be so in love.

Soon enough Freyja had laced up her boots and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. She had everything that she could possibly need: extra clothing, the sword that her father had given her, and some extra coin just in case. She gave her home one last check and then locked the front door, hiding the key in a flower pot on the front stoop.

Freyja strode over to the barn where she then packed her farrier tools into a separate bag. She would need them, for her farrier work was the very reason she had been asked to join Thorin's company. She made sure to pack extra horseshoes, clips, her file, and a large jar of hoof salve for the ponies. Once her packing was complete it was time to saddle her dappled grey pony, Fritz, and be on her way. Freyja called to her four legged companion and he came trotting to the gate, hoping for a carrot or perhaps a sweet treat. The dwarrowdam smiled as the pony's whiskers brushed against the palm of her hand as he ate up the sugar cube she had offered him.

Freyja led Fritz into the barn and tacked him up, making sure everything was safely tightened before latching her bags to the saddle. Fritz was a young pony but had excellent manners for his age. He was a quick learner and was always well behaved for his rider, much to Freyja's pleasure. Freyja had had plenty of ponies that had downright refused to allow a rider onto its back, but Fritz was as kind and gentle as could be.

"We're in for a long journey, Fritz. Are you ready?" Freyja asked, rubbing his grey nose with a loving smile. The pony snorted in response as Freyja led him out of the barn door and into the cool morning air. The sun was well on its way up, casting beautiful pinks, oranges, and purples across the dawn sky. Freyja slid the barn door shut and lowered the wooden bar into place, locking it. The dwarrowdam looked over her property one last time, feeling tears begin to sting her hazel eyes.

The old farm house and barn had been her home for nearly all her life. It had been the place that she had grown up, learned how to ride a pony, smith, sword fight, and shoe a horse. It had been the place that her father had passed away, and it was the last connection she had to him. Freyja feared that it would be the last time she saw the property, for the journey to Erebor would be long and dangerous. She could very well die before reaching the mountain, but if she did make it that far the dragon could turn her to ash along with the heirs of Durin.

...

The ride to the Shire was long, as it had taken a couple of days, but quite uneventful. Freyja had no trouble with passer-bys on the road, much to her surprise, for a young dwarrowdam riding alone was a good target for thieves. When she arrived in the Shire atop Fritz's back, the sun had set and the moon was rising. The silver light illuminated the winding pathways, as did the flickering candles in the hobbits' windows. Together Freyja and Fritz navigated through the hills until they came to the top of the tallest one. There she found a round, green door with a blue, glimmering marking carved into the face of it. In the pasture down the hill Freyja spotted a dozen or so ponies grazing and she could hear laughter coming from deep within the hobbit hole. She knew that she had found the place that Gandalf spoke of.

Freyja dismounted her pony and unsaddled him, setting the tack atop the wooden fence lining the path in front of the hobbit's home, for multiple other saddles and bridles sat there as well. The dwarrowdam let Fritz go and watched as he trotted off to greet the other ponies. He knew not to roam too far so Freyja turned and approached the front door with little concern.

Freyja rapped her knuckles against the wooden door three times and waited for a response. When no one came, she knocked again. Suddenly, a voice called from behind the barrier, "Go away! No one is home!" Well, Freyja knew that the claim was false, but perhaps she had the wrong gathering? No, that couldn't be. The home was just as Gandalf had described, and it was obvious that a group of dwarves were inside the hobbit hole for the ruckus was far too loud to be caused by hobbits.

Freyja was just about to knock again, with more force, when the door swung open to reveal a rather frazzled hobbit. His clothes looked rumpled as if he had thrown them on with little thought, his strawberry blonde hair was a bit messy, and he had a look of exhaustion and frustration upon his face. "Freyja, at your service." She greeted with a curtsey.

"Another? How many of you are there? Has all of Ered Luin been invited to my home tonight?!" The hobbit let out an exasperated sigh, reluctantly stepping aside so that Freyja could enter. Had Gandalf invited the entire company to this poor hobbit's home without informing him? Freyja felt terribly guilty if that were the case. The dwarrowdam entered his home and looked around. It was cozy and just the right size for those who were short, such as hobbits and dwarves. There were family portraits hanging on the wall, beautifully carved pieces of furniture sitting in the corners, and hardwood floors all throughout the home. Unfortunately, the hobbit's guests had tracked a lot of mud over his floors and had flung their belongings all about the room.

"Your kinsmen have completely destroyed my home and pillaged my pantry. It is entirely inappropriate of guests to behave in such a manner." The hobbit complained, eyeing Freyja closely as she stepped onto the welcome mat. The dwarrowdam removed her boots and set them neatly on the mat so that she wouldn't further make a mess of her host's home. She then hung her jacket on one of the many available hooks on the wall.

"I apologize. Dwarves do have a habit of making a mess. Thank you for hosting our gathering tonight, though I am not sure that you were even asked if we could meet here."

"No, I was not," The hobbit informed Freyja, taking notice of her manners, causing him to soften up a bit. He extended his small hand and Freyja accepted, shaking politely, "My name is Bilbo Baggins, and this is my home. Your friends are down the hall in the dining room. You'd best hurry before they've eaten all of my food."

"I will see if I can scavenge enough for the two of us, Master Baggins. You surely haven't had time to eat a proper supper with all of these dwarves roaming around." Freyja gave the hobbit a friendly smile and found that he returned it with one of his own. The dwarrowdam strolled down the hall towards the loud laughing and conversation coming from the dining room. Bilbo followed closely behind her, guiding her in the right direction so that she would not get lost in the winding hallways.

When Freyja arrived at the dining room she found a large table with twelve dwarves, all males, seated around it. Plates stacked high with food, and tankards overflowing with ale were sitting in the center of the table. The dwarves were cheerfully drinking and stuffing their mouths with bread rolls, meats, vegetables, and sweet desserts. Each dwarf varied in age, shape, and size, but they all seemed to get along as if they were a large, happy family. However, when they caught sight of the young, pretty dwarrowdam in the doorway, the conversation ceased and all eyes fell on her.

"Who might that be?"

"Did the wizard invite her along?"

"I sure hope so, laddie."

"Thorin won't approve of this."

The dwarves whispered back and forth as they eyed the young dwarrowdam. Some seemed as if they disapproved of her presence, but all of them appeared curious. Gandalf was the one to break the awkward, tense silence.

"Ah, you have decided to join us!" Gandalf exclaimed from behind Freyja and Bilbo. The old wizard had a hobbit sized glass of red wine in his hands as he shuffled into the doorway. He had to crouch down so that his head would not hit the low ceilings, which looked awfully uncomfortable for such a tall man, "It is a pleasure to see you again, my dear Freyja. Allow me to introduce you to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Meet Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bofur, Bifur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, and Gloin." Each dwarf raised their hand and nodded as Gandalf announced their names.

Fili and Kili were rather handsome, Freyja noticed. They were by far the youngest of the group, even younger than herself, she guessed. She remembered Gandalf mentioning that they were the nephews of Thorin himself, but their uncle was nowhere to be found.

"Thorin will not be happy." The tall, intimidating bald one, Dwalin, said blatantly. It was obvious that he was one of the dwarves who did not want Freyja to join the company. Why, she did not know. Suddenly, three loud knocks came from the front door.

"Now that he has arrived, he can decide that for himself." Gandalf made his way to the front door with Bilbo in tow. Freyja quickly decided that she would rather follow the wizard and her new hobbit friend than sit in silence with twelve pairs of dwarves eyes on her, and so she did.

...

"I thought you said that this place would be easy to find," A deep voice said after the door was opened, "I lost my way twice. I would have never found it if it were not for the marking on the door."

The owner of the voice soon came into view. It was none other than Thorin Oakenshield, the rightful king of Erebor. Freyja had only laid eyes on him in passing until that very moment in Bilbo's front entryway. Thorin stood tall for a dwarf, perhaps a few inches taller than Freyja. He had a set of broad shoulders and when he removed his fur coat she could see that his body was well muscled from top to bottom. His hair was a dark, raven black with streaks of silver throughout, for he was no longer a young dwarf prince. His beard matched in color but was trimmed much shorter, which was rather unusual for a dwarf his age. The most captivating thing about Thorin's appearance, however, were his deep, cerulean blue eyes. They roamed over his surroundings, taking in every detail of his host's home, and then fell on Freyja herself.

When their eyes met, Freyja was not sure of what to think. Thorin did not seem angry to see her like Dwalin had been, though he did not seem pleased either. Actually, it was nearly impossible for Freyja to read his face, for his expression did not change when his gaze fell upon her. She, however, was a bundle of nerves, though she would not show it.

"Marking? There is no marking on that door, I painted it myself just yesterday!" Bilbo exclaimed.

"Yes, there is a marking. I placed it there this morning," Gandalf informed the frazzled hobbit, "Thorin, this is your burglar, Master Baggins, and this is Miss Freyja, an excellent smith and farrier from Ered Luin."

Thorin briefly looked over Bilbo and quickly decided that he was not impressed with the tiny hobbit. Gandalf had promised him a burglar, and Bilbo looked as if he had never set foot outside of the Shire. The king needed someone who was quick, nimble, and smart enough to sneak into the mountain, avoid being incinerated by a dragon, and escape with the Arkenstone in hand. The Arkenstone, also known as the King's Stone and the Heart of the Mountain, rightfully belonged above the throne and Thorin would not take his place there until it was returned. A hobbit such as Bilbo would surely flee before entering a mountain in which a dragon slumbered, if he were even to survive long enough to reach the mountain.

"I thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." Thorin said darkly.

The dwarrowdam, however, was a different story. The dwarf women that Thorin was used to encountering were often of noble status and had not worked a day in their lives. Most of them were quick to avert their eyes and curtsey before the rather intimidating prince, but Freyja held his gaze without hesitation. She looked tough, and confident. The moment that her hazel eyes had met his blue, something strong and unfamiliar clicked deep inside of him. He had never experienced such a feeling after meeting a dwarrowdam and it terrified him that he did not understand it.

"I asked for one burglar, not a hobbit and a farmhand." Thorin said simply, confirming Freyja's worries. Dwalin had been correct in saying that Thorin would not be pleased.

"Hobbits are small and their scent is unfamiliar to a dragon. Bilbo will make an excellent burglar. You trusted me to select one for you and I have made my decision."

"I doubt that he will leave the comforts of his home. Hobbits are too fond of their gardens and hearths to give them up for a journey such as this." Thorin walked past the hobbit, wizard, and dwarrowdam, making for the dining room where his company eagerly awaited his arrival. The trio followed behind him; Gandalf gave Freyja's shoulder a comforting squeeze, knowing that she was beginning to have her doubts about joining Thorin's company.

As they made their way to the dining room Freyja became increasingly irritated with Thorin's disrespectful comment at the door. How dare he appoint Gandalf to find members for his company and then turn the people that had been recruited away? Bilbo was no burglar, that much was obvious, but Freyja trusted Gandalf's judgement and would not question his choice. Thorin did not even have the courtesy to hide his disappointment as he sulked down the hall and into the dining room.

The dwarves were silent when their leader took a seat at the head of the table. Each of them watched, eagerly waiting for him to share the news he brought from the Iron Hills. Balin, the old white haired dwarf, placed a bowl of stew, a slice of bread, and a tankard of ale in front of Thorin and gave him a pat on the back. It was clear to Freyja that each of the dwarves seated at the table had great respect and love for their rightful king. She had always heard that Thorin was a noble, strong leader, but his earlier behavior made Freyja think otherwise.

"Please, have a seat, lass. You can take my chair down by Fili and Kili. Forgive us, for we have forgotten our manners it seems." Balin pulled out his chair and motioned for Freyja to take a seat. With a friendly smile and a respectful nod, Freyja sat and allowed the old dwarf to scoot her chair in. Fili and Kili, Thorin's young nephews, greeted her with warm smiles and a wink, causing the dwarrowdam to blush and return her attention to the dwarf at the head of the table.

"What news do you bring from the Iron Hills? Will Dain join us?" Dwalin called from across the table, demanding answers. In order to be a successful journey the company would need as much help as they could get. Without Dain Ironfoot and his army the quest would surely fail.

Thorin began picking apart his bread and dipping it into the stew, "My cousin will not help us. We are on our own." The king dug into his meal, for he surely had to be starving after such a long, fruitless journey from the Iron Hills.

The room broke out into nervous, angry chatter. Freyja knew that Thorin would not bring good news and it seemed that the others had suspected the same. It was upsetting that Dain would not send any help with his own cousin but he did have his own kingdom to rule and defend, after all.

"So this is all we get, then? A hobbit and a woman?" Dwalin shook his head as he eyed the dwarrowdam. Freyja would not just sit there and allow these dwarves to talk about her in such a way, so she spoke up for herself.

"This woman can out-wit, out-fight, and out-drink you, so I'd suggest you watch your mouth." Freyja crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. The company went quiet, their jaws hanging open at Freyja's insult.

"Oh, I like her already!" Fili, the eldest of the two nephews, gave Freyja a pat on the shoulder with a laugh. Though Fili and Kili were brothers, they looked very different. Fili was taller with a head of long, blonde hair and a beard to match. His eyes were a deep blue like his uncle's. Kili was shorter and both his hair and eyes were a dark brown. The younger brother had not yet grown a beard, but that did not make him any less handsome, "What is your weapon of choice? An axe? A bow?"

"I prefer a sturdy long-sword." Freyja answered, which caused a burst of laughter to break out across the room. Freyja immediately recognized her mistake and felt a hot blush form on her cheeks. She had unknowingly spoken a sexual innuendo to a group of men.

"I'll give you a sturdy long-sword, Miss." Kili winked and took a sip of his ale. Even Dwalin let out a laugh at that. She couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Please, brother, the only thing you have to offer her is a dagger and you hardly know how to use it." Fili countered. Freyja chuckled as the brothers argued back and forth about swords and daggers until Dwalin piped up from across the table.

"Someone get the lass an ale, I'd like to put her to the test!" The dwarves cheered as the hefty red haired dwarf, Bombur, slid a foaming tankard down the table for the young lady. Freyja happily took it into her hands and tossed it back, taking long, large gulps of the cold liquid. Just as she had promised, Freyja finished her ale a fraction of a second sooner than Dwalin and slammed the empty tankard down on the wooden table.

"I seem to have misjudged you, my lady," Dwalin chuckled, leaning back in his seat with a grin upon his face, "If you can fight as well as you can drink, we are lucky to have you!"

"Then you are lucky indeed, Master Dwalin." Freyja had been practicing swordsmanship since a very young age. Her father had always believed that even dwarrowdams should know how to defend themselves, which Freyja agreed with entirely. Sword fighting had not been an easy skill to master; it had taken many long years of practicing footwork and sparring with her father and practice dummies, but it had been well worth it.

"Do you think that you could best Thorin?" Kili wondered. Freyja had heard many great things about not only Thorin's smith work, but his fighting as well. Thorin Oakenshield was one of the greatest warriors in Ered Luin, perhaps the best in all of Middle Earth. He was fierce, merciless, and often emerged victorious even when the odds were against him. His epithet came from the Battle of Azanulbizar where he used a branch of oak as a shield against Azog the Defiler, the most feared orc in Middle Earth. In truth, Freyja knew that Thorin would be able to best her with little effort, but she would not say so.

"It is possible. Perhaps he would like to challenge me as well?" Freyja looked to the head of the table. Thorin lifted his gaze from the bowl of stew and raised one thick eyebrow. It would be an interesting match up to say the least. Freyja would give it her all but it would not be enough to beat such an experienced fighter. Thorin would no doubt have her pinned within seconds. The dwarves stared wide eyed at the young dwarrowdam, their gazes shifting between her and their leader, waiting to see how he would respond. For a moment it looked as if Thorin had a playful glimmer in his eye, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Another time. We have business to discuss now that you are finished fooling around," Thorin directed his comment at both Dwalin and Freyja, "This journey will be long, tireless, and much more difficult to complete now that Dain has refused to offer us any help, but it will go on."

"How do we get inside of the mountain? More importantly, how do we plan on slaying this dragon once we get inside?!" The dwarf with the funny hat, Bofur, inquired. It was a question that Freyja had been asking herself as well.

Gandalf placed a large iron key in front of Thorin, answering the former question, "How did you get this?" Thorin asked the wizard as he inspected the key. Thorin recognized it, no doubt, for it had once belonged to his own family. It had disappeared shortly after Smaug attacked, along with the Arkenstone, and Thorin had assumed it to be lost for good.

"Your father gave it to me, and now I am giving it to you. The key unlocks a hidden door on the side of the mountain that will be revealed during the last light of Durin's Day," Gandalf explained, "As for the dragon, Master Baggins will be taking care of it, for he is our new burglar."

"Um, dragon? I never agreed to host this meeting, I never agreed to join this company, and I absolutely did not agree to slay a dragon!" Bilbo exclaimed with frustration. The hobbit seemed to have been chosen for this role without giving consent, which Gandalf was surely responsible for.

"Balin, draw up the contracts for Master Baggins and Miss Freyja, if you will. The rest of you clean up the mess you have made of our host's home." Thorin ordered, rising from the table.

Chapter Text

Bilbo and Freyja adjourned to the sitting room while the dwarves merrily cleaned up Bilbo's dining room. They sang, danced, and tossed the dishes across the hall as they worked. Freyja's contract was rather simple. In order to receive her fair share of the reward she would need to care for the ponies, which included untacking them, shaping and shoeing their feet when needed, and occasionally taking the night watch to look after them.

"I am being expected to sneak into the mountain and steal a gemstone without being detected by a dragon. What is this about funeral arrangements?!" Bilbo paced back and forth in front of the crackling fireplace with the contract in hand. Bofur appeared from the hallway with his smoking pipe in hand, taking a seat next to Freyja on the love seat.

"You could very well die in there, Master Baggins. Dragons are dangerous creatures. He could step on you and crush the life outta ya, or swallow ya whole, or incinerate ya!" Bofur said between puffs of smoke.

"In-incinerate?" Bilbo gulped.

"Think furnace with wings!" Bofur exclaimed, causing Bilbo to outright faint on the carpet in front of the fireplace with a loud thud.

"Bilbo!" Freyja jumped out of her seat and rushed to the fallen hobbit. Though he was slightly smaller than her, it was difficult for her to lift him from the floor. "Bofur, some assistance please?"

"At your service, Miss." Bofur set down his pipe and helped the dwarrowdam hoist Bilbo into the armchair beside the fire. Freyja immediately went to work, fluffing a pillow and placing it behind the poor hobbit's head, then throwing a blanket across his lap. The dwarrowdam had a strong feeling that if Bilbo could not even stand reading the contract, he would not be able to face a dragon in person.

"Bofur, would you be a dear and go fetch Master Baggins a cold washcloth and a cup of tea? Thank you." Freyja asked politely. The dwarf went on his way to the kitchen to acquire the requested items, but soon after the rest of the company began to file into the sitting room.

"What's happened here?" Kili wondered, leaning over the comatose hobbit. Freyja shooed him away, telling the young dwarf that Bilbo needed his space, so he took a seat next to his brother beside the fire.

"Master Baggins was reading the contract and felt...a little overwhelmed by it." Freyja explained to the curious group of dwarves. Soon enough Bofur came trotting into the room with a washcloth and cup of tea as requested. The dwarf brushed past Thorin, who was leaning against the doorframe and watching Freyja tend to the hobbit. Freyja took the washcloth from Bofur and placed it against Bilbo's forehead, his eyes starting to flutter open. Bofur passed the tea to the hobbit and encouraged him to take a few sips.

"What say you, then, Master Baggins? Will you sign the contract?" Thorin wondered from his spot in the doorway. The room went silent as they waited for his answer, though they all knew what it would most likely be.

"I am no burglar. I have no desire to leave my home, my books, or my garden for a mountain containing a dragon. Forgive me, but you will have to find yourself someone else." Bilbo answered finally. The dwarves seemed disappointed, especially their leader. Thorin did not stay a moment longer; he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway. A moment later a door slammed.

"Tell me, do you remember the story of your great uncle, Bandobras Took?" Gandalf asked the hobbit between puffs of smoke. Bilbo nodded and rolled his eyes as if he had heard the tale a thousand times over, "Bandobras stood nearly as tall as a man and was even able to ride a full grown horse instead of a pony. He was a very brave hobbit, for he lead the charge in the Battle of Greenfields atop said horse. Your great uncle knocked the goblin Golfimbul's head clean off with a wooden club and sent it flying one hundred yards through the air, straight down a rabbit hole, thus winning the battle and inventing the game of golf all at once!"

"I am not so sure that the tale is true, Gandalf." Bilbo admitted.

"All good stories deserve a bit of embellishment," Gandalf smiled, "The point I am trying to make is that you are not just Bilbo Baggins, a normal hobbit from the Shire. You are a Took. I remember when I would visit this place decades ago, when you were only a tiny lad, you spent your time sword fighting with wooden sticks and exploring the forest for uncharted lands. You were a brave hobbit, my dear Bilbo, but you have lost your courage. It is time to find it again."

Though Bilbo did not seem to be buying it, Freyja was inspired by Gandalf's story. This adventure could very well pass into legend someday and be told to young children by their parents. Their names would be forever remembered whether they succeeded or failed in taking the mountain, though Freyja hoped that they would achieve the former. The dwarrowdam would sign the contract and do whatever she could to help the dwarves take back their home. Her home.

...

When Bilbo had excused himself to his bedroom and the dwarves had begun to settle down for the night, Freyja made her way down the hallway towards the room Thorin had shut himself inside of earlier. With the signed contract in hand she knocked on the wooden door, waiting for an answer. She hoped that Thorin was not asleep, for if she awakened him he would surely be even more upset than he had been before.

Freyja heard footsteps approaching the opposite side of the door. She quickly brushed over the front of her tunic and pulled her long braid over her left shoulder, making herself look more presentable for the king. Facing him with Gandalf at her side had been a lot less nerve-wracking than standing before him alone. The knob turned and the door opened wide, revealing a tired, bare chested Thorin. Wonderful, Freyja thought. She had roused him from his sleep and he was half naked.

"My apologies, I did not mean to wake you. I can speak with you in the morning." Freyja moved to turn and retreat down the hall, but Thorin stopped her before she could run off and hide in embarrassment.

"You are already here. Come in," Thorin stepped aside and made room for the young dwarrowdam to enter. She hesitantly walked forward into the cozy guest bedroom and took in her surroundings. There was a quilt covered bed large enough for at least two hobbits, a small table and armchair in the corner, and a stone fireplace built into the wall across from the bed. Thorin had already lit himself a small fire bright enough to light the bedroom, and the quilt atop the bed had been pulled back, "Have you come to tell me you will not sign the contract as well?"

"Quite the opposite, actually." Freyja unrolled the contract as Thorin cracked the door shut and made his way to the bed, where he then took a seat on the edge of it. There at the bottom of the parchment sat three signatures; Balin's, Thorin's, and then Freyja's. Surprisingly enough, Thorin's signature had been the neatest and the cleanest out of the three. Freyja turned the parchment and presented it to her new employer with a smug smile upon her pink lips.

While Thorin looked over the contract, Freyja looked over him. The king was indeed as broad and muscular as she had thought; it was much more evident without his fur coat. There was a light dusting of dark hair upon his chest that thinned as it traveled down his abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistline of his trousers. His skin was scarred from the many battles he had fought in, and he had a large tattoo on his outer bicep. It was a dark ink tattoo of a crown being pierced by a sword, and the hilt of the sword was surrounded by a horseshoe shaped circle. Each piece of the tattoo represented an important part of Thorin's life; the crown his royal lineage, the sword his warrior status, and the horseshoe his mastery of blacksmithing. Freyja herself had a horseshoe tattooed on the back of her neck that was only visible when her long locks were pulled into a pony-tail or bun.

Thorin was perhaps the most attractive dwarf that she had ever seen, Freyja decided. Male dwarves were not known for their good looks, but Thorin and his two nephews seemed to be the exception. The young dam felt like a fool for drooling over the king, for he surely already had plenty of female callers waiting for him back in Ered Luin; ones who were beautiful and of noble birth. Thorin would never look at her as more than a member of his company, perhaps not even that, but that would not stop Freyja from admiring his appealing qualities.

When Freyja's gaze met Thorin's her cheeks began to blush a bright red. He had surely noticed her staring but made no move to put on his tunic or otherwise cover up. Thorin rolled up the contract and handed it back to the dwarrowdam, "Why do you want to do this?"

Freyja was slightly taken aback by the sudden question, for she had not expected it. Was it a trick question or was the king truly interested in her reasoning for joining his company?

"Erebor was once my home as well," She answered simply, holding his gaze with her own. Thorin's brows raised in surprise. Gandalf had not told him, then, "My mother and father were born and raised there. I was only a small thing when Smaug attacked the mountain."

"Though I did not know your parents I do recognize the name. Your father was a smith?"

"Yes, he taught me everything that I know."

"And what of your mother?"

"She did not make it out of the mountain."

"Forgive me. I did not realize." Thorin apologized sincerely. The king knew loss as well, for his grandfather and younger brother had died in the Battle of Azanulbizar.

"There is nothing to be forgiven, Thorin. No one but the dragon is at fault for the death of my mother and the other dwarves," Freyja assured him, "To answer your question, I want to help you all take back your homeland."

"It is also your homeland, as you previously stated. Should we succeed in taking Erebor back, will you make your home there with us or return to Ered Luin?" Thorin inquired, rising from his seat on the bed and motioning for Freyja to take his place there. The king retreated to the back of the room to retrieve the small armchair and place it beside the bed. He took a seat in the chair and leaned forward so that his elbows rested atop his knees, only a couple of feet separating him from the dwarrowdam.

"I am not sure yet, to be entirely honest with you. I do have a house and a business to run back in Ered Luin, though I could relocate if I wished."

"Do you realize that the chances of our success are slim, Freyja?" The dwarrowdam felt a shiver run down her spine at hearing the king say her name in such a low tone, "This will be no leisurely stroll through the forest. There will be danger at every turn and it is likely that some of us may not even live to see the mountain again. I fear that this company is no place for a woman."

Freyja would not hear it. She stood up from the edge of the bed with the contract in hand and walked around Thorin's chair, making for the bedroom door. Freyja was not a child and would not be babied by anyone. Before she could get out the door, Freyja felt a large hand grab ahold of her bicep and gently pull her backwards. The slight tug was enough to set her off balance and crashing against Thorin's solid chest.

"I suggest that you release me unless you wish to lose your hand!" Freyja spat, pushing against Thorin with little luck. His grip was like a vice from which she could not escape.

"If I let you go will you allow me to finish what I was saying?" Freyja stilled, mulling over Thorin's offer. If she did not comply there was no way she would be able to wiggle free. The king was not hurting her by any means, but she was annoyed with the fact that he had doubted her. Freyja finally nodded, causing Thorin's hand to open and release her arm.

"I am sure you know that for every three dwarves there is only one dwarrowdam. You are a rare thing to come by and I would not wish for you to die while accompanying us to the mountain. You have a home in Ered Luin and a successful business, a chance to find your One, settle down, and start a family. Why give that up for this?" Thorin wondered, his hand still lingering on Freyja's arm.

"I have no desire to settle down with a man twice my age and-,"

"Well, that sure sounds like a lie to me. What do you think, Kili?" A familiar voice called from the hallway. Freyja turned to find Fili and Kili standing in the doorway with mischievous grins upon their lips. The dwarrowdam could feel a hot blush forming on her cheeks. Though she and Thorin had been doing nothing scandalous, the position they were in looked that way. Thorin was still half naked and in such close proximity to Freyja that it looked as if they were about to engage in something rather naughty.

"Well, brother, it looks as if our dear Freyja is about to settle down with a man thrice her age!" Kili joked. The brothers chuckled back and forth as their uncle frowned in annoyance.

"Is there a reason for the two of you lurking outside of my door or are you just here to pester me?" Thorin demanded, removing his hand from Freyja.

"We've simply come to tell Miss Freyja that we have saved her a place on the love seat in the sitting room. Everyone else has claimed a guest bed or an armchair for the night." Fili explained. As long as she would not have to sleep on the floor, Freyja was content.

"Off to bed with you. We leave at dawn and I will not wait a moment longer if you two cannot be ready on time." Thorin waved his nephews out of the room and they reluctantly went on their way. It was obvious that Thorin deeply cared for the brothers despite his annoyed expression. Freyja knew that she would get along well with the two; it was their uncle that worried her.

"If this is what you truly want I will not stop you," Thorin finally said after the brothers had disappeared down the hall. The king grabbed his tunic and pulled it over his head, making his way to the bedroom door without taking the rest of his belongings, “But I cannot promise that you will survive, nor will I be responsible for your fate."

"Understood. Where are you going, if I may ask?" Freyja moved to follow him.

"To the sitting room to retire for the evening."

"But this is your-,"

"You may have the bed, Miss Freyja, unless you would like to share it."

"Oh, um.."

"I thought as much. Good night."

Thorin was out the door and closing it behind him a moment later, leaving the dwarrowdam alone in the dimly lit bedroom. Freyja stripped out of her tunic, trousers, and socks until she was left in only her smallclothes. She folded her discarded clothing and placed them on the armchair where Thorin's fur coat hung, then made her way to the bed. Freyja climbed beneath the quilt and rested her head upon the pillow. There was a scent of pine and musk on the cushion and sheets, and Freyja easily deduced that it belonged to Thorin, for when he had grabbed her he had smelled the same way. She drifted to sleep that night with the king on her mind.

Chapter Text

Freyja woke to the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. Her eyes fluttered open and found that the fire had gone out long ago and the sun had not yet begun to peek over the horizon, leaving the room in almost complete darkness. The dwarrowdam rolled over and found a figure shuffling slowly into the bedroom towards the armchair that was still beside the bed.

Freyja sat up and leaned over, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes to reveal Thorin standing there. She found that Thorin was looking over her appearance, though the room was a bit dim to see her completely.

The quilt had slipped and pooled around Freyja's waist, revealing her smallclothes. Blushing, she pulled the fallen quilt upwards to cover her chest, but it had been too late, Thorin had noticed.

"Is it already time to wake?" Freyja wondered, breaking the awkward silence between the two of them. She felt as if she had hardly gotten any sleep at all; could it truly be time to leave?

"Nearly, but there is still a bit more time if you would like to keep resting. I simply rise earlier than the others," Thorin explained as he placed Freyja's pile of clothing on the bed so that he could sit in the armchair, "I did not mean to wake you so soon."

"Ah, so you came to admire the view then?" Freyja teased, immediately regretting her words. She hardly knew Thorin, but she did know that he was not one for joking from what she had seen of him so far. Surprisingly, her joke had drawn a soft, tired chuckle out of the king.

"I came to retrieve my belongings," Thorin answered, "The view was just an added bonus." It seemed as if Freyja would have a permanent blush upon her cheeks around the king, for every time they spoke her face went red, especially now that he had complimented her.

"Well, I am rather adorable when I wake, so I've been told." Freyja grinned, remembering the times that her father had called her a troll after waking. Every morning the dwarrowdam found her dark hair in a frizzy, tangled mess that often took forever to comb out. She could only imagine what Thorin thought of her appearance.

"May I inquire as to who has given you such a compliment?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Whoever it is must have been blind, is all," Thorin said in a perfectly serious tone. Offended, Freyja's eyebrows knitted together as she opened her mouth to argue, until she noticed that playful glimmer in his blue eyes, "What I see is a very small mountain troll."

"You sound like my father." Freyja told the king, who had pulled his boots onto his feet and had begun to tie up the laces.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He said I was an adorable mountain troll."

"So he is the blind one, then."

"His eyesight was excellent until he neared the end, I'll have you know." Freyja said as tears began to sting her eyes. Though it had been a few years since her father had passed away, the pain was still there. It hurt to talk about him with Thorin, but she kept a positive smile upon her lips all the while.

"I too know what it is like to be without a mother and a father," Thorin finished tying his laces and met Freyja's gaze, "I grieve with you." Those four simple words meant the world to the aching dwarrowdam. For years Freyja had had no one to go to in times of sadness, and now she felt as if she did. Thorin may have seemed cold and emotionless upon their first meeting but now Freyja was beginning to see that he did indeed have a good heart. This was the very reason that the dwarves in his company respected and loved him so.

"And I with you." Freyja answered quietly. Thorin rose from the armchair and carried it to where it belonged, beside the table in the corner of the room. He transferred his fur coat from the chair back to his own shoulders, covering the royal blue tunic he was wearing.

"I'm off to check on the ponies, go back to sleep for now. I will wake you when it is time to go, unless the rest of them cause a ruckus loud enough to wake you first." Thorin informed Freyja, making for the door.

"No, wait, the ponies are my responsibility, it says so in my contract!" Freyja jumped out of bed with little regard as to what she was wearing. Thorin's eyes widened as he watched the barely clothed dwarrowdam throw her tunic over her head, but he turned away when she went to bend over to pull up her trousers.

Though he was tempted to stare at her backside he forced himself to find something else to distract his eyes with, like the door knob. Thorin had seen dwarrowdams wearing much less than Freyja had been wearing in that moment, but it would have been disrespectful to watch. The king had had a couple rolls in the hay in the past, all of which had taken place before Smaug attacked, but he had been a young prince at the time and had little care for any of the women. Thorin had not taken a lover since being exiled from the mountain, for he had been far too focused on making a life for himself, his sister, and his two nephews. He had not yet found his One, and at his age he wondered if he ever would.

Freyja had not taken a lover at all in her many decades of life. Yes, she had had a couple of smitten dwarves approach her and attempt to court her, but she had little interest and no connection with the men. Her primary focus was her work but someday she did indeed hope to find her One. She had plenty of time left to search for him, unless she was incinerated by a dragon, of course.

"Your contract does not officially start until it is approved by Balin, and from the looks of it, you haven't given it to him yet." Thorin nodded to the rolled up parchment on the bedside table.

"Here is the plan," Freyja pulled on her boots and laced them in record time, "You take the contract to Balin while I tend to the ponies. Simple."

"I am already dressed."

"What a coincidence, so am I." Freyja grinned as she buttoned her coat. Thorin mirrored her expression with a raised eyebrow. The prince contemplated her offer until he finally came to a decision that would appease the both of them.

"New plan. We both take care of the ponies and give the contract to Balin when he wakes. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

...

"Fourteen..fifteen..and Gandalf's horse makes sixteen. They are all accounted for." Thorin declared from the hilltop. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon which meant that the rest of the company was surely awake and preparing to depart. Freyja was excited but a bit disappointed that Bilbo had decided not to accompany them, for she had taken a liking to the hobbit. However, she was sure that she would become fast friends with the dwarves.

"I'll start saddling them up, then," Freyja hoisted two saddles off of the fence and held one on each side of her body, descending the hill towards the grazing herd. Thorin grabbed two as well and followed the dwarrowdam down the hill. He admired her strength and her efficiency. Freyja had the first two ponies tacked in moments and was on her way to grab two more saddles by the time Thorin had finished cinching his first.

"Having a hard time keeping up, old man?" Freyja taunted as she passed him by with a saddle on each hip.

"You sound like my nephews."

"Oh?" Freyja mimicked Thorin's earlier words.

"Yes, and that is not a good thing. They are a nuisance and cause me to age at a quicker rate than what is normal for a dwarf."

"But you love them nonetheless."

"It depends on the day," Thorin caught the dwarrowdam's eye over the top of the pony he was saddling. Her brows were raised in surprise, "It is only a joke. Fili and Kili are like sons to me, of course I love them."

His sister's husband and nephews' father had perished at the Battle of Azanulbizar along with Prince Frerin and King Thror. Thorin was the only father figure that the young dwarves had so he took it upon himself to teach them, train them, and support them as their father would have. Fili and Kili had grown into fine young men and the eldest brother would make a wonderful heir to the throne, for Thorin did not plan to produce an heir at his age. The brothers occasionally acted as if they were still the mischievous children that they had once been, such as pulling pranks or causing trouble, but Thorin did indeed love them still.

"We love you too, Uncle!" Two voices called from the top of the hill. Fili and Kili each grabbed a saddle and began to descend the hill with the rest of the company, including Gandalf, in tow. When Freyja caught sight of the dwarf with the snowy white hair and beard, she pulled her signed contract out of her saddle bag and approached him.

"Here you are, Balin. I've signed it." Freyja handed him the roll of parchment with a smile. He gladly accepted the contract and pulled out a monocle. He held the glass circle over his eye as he inspected the contract briefly, nodding in approval when he reached the end.

"Everything seems to be in order, my dear," Balin tucked away his monocle and the contract, "Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

"Welcome, lass! I'll be looking forward to sharing another ale with ya." Dwalin called.

"We'll be looking forward to watching her go toe to toe with our uncle." Fili and Kili chimed in with smirks on their faces. Freyja couldn't tell if they were referring to her sparring with their uncle or doing something a little more...intimate. Either way, their comment caused a blush to form on her cheeks.

Soon enough the bags were packed, the ponies were saddled, and it was time to depart from the Shire. The fourteen dwarves and one wizard mounted their steeds and formed a line with Thorin at the head and Freyja near the tail beside Fili and Kili. Though it was rather early, the dwarves were all very talkative, with the exception of Thorin. It was strange, Freyja thought, that he had been so open and carefree when the two of them had been alone, but now that the rest of the company had arrived he had gone silent and stoic once again. His nephews, however, would not shut up.

"So you and the old man, huh?" Kili wondered.

"I've never seen him talk to any dwarrowdam as much as he's talked to you." Fili added.

"It's about time he's found himself a woman."

"What're you two on about back there?" Bofur turned his head to look at the trio riding behind him. How embarrassing it would be if the whole company were to hear about the brothers' crazy assumption. Freyja did not want herself or Thorin to be put in an uncomfortable position, especially since they were not romantically involved.

"Thorin and Miss Freyja!" Kili formed a cup around his mouth and whispered his answer. Well, there goes that then. Luckily, Bofur seemed to be the only dwarf that noticed the brothers' conversing. Fili trotted ahead and rode alongside Bofur.

"We found the two of them in one of Bilbo's guest bedrooms last night, and Uncle wasn't wearing a tunic! This morning they both woke up early and were out tacking up the ponies long before any of us were. Suspicious, isn't it?"

"Somehow I don't think that yer uncle would be actin' that way around a lady. It sure doesn't sound like 'im." Bofur shook his head at the young dwarf's claims. Fili wasn't wrong about what he saw, but he was wrong to assume that there was anything more than friendship between Freyja and Thorin.

"He's completely smitten with her, Bofur," Kili chimed in to confirm his brother's findings, "But who wouldn't be? Miss Freyja is very pretty and she can hold her ale!"

"If he's so 'smitten' with me, why did he choose to spend the night on the love seat last night?"

"That's precisely it! He would never give up his warm bed to any of us, but he allowed you to have it." Fili countered.

"He was simply being polite, Fili, I promise you. Wouldn't you have given up your bed for a dwarrowdam?" Freyja inquired, confident that this would end the discussion altogether.

"No. I would have shared it with her." Fili gave Freyja a flirtatious wink, causing his brother to burst out laughing. Bofur shrugged his shoulders.

"Thorin may have just been bein' kind, but it does seem as if he's takin' a liking to ya, lass." Bofur pointed out, not helping the situation at all. Fili and Kili continued to exchange smirks while Freyja rolled her eyes. She would let them believe whatever they wanted, for she and Thorin both knew what was true and what was false.

After only a few moments of riding a voice called out from behind the line of dwarves. It was a familiar voice. Freyja looked around herself, counting the dwarves to make sure that they hadn't forgotten anyone, but all of them were there.

"Wait! Wait!" A small figure came running down the hill and through the trees with a piece of parchment whipping behind him. Master Baggins had come. The hobbit was dressed in a tan pair of trousers, a green vest covered by a maroon velvet coat, and no shoes. Bilbo ran to the front of the company towards Balin and shoved the parchment into his hands. "I've-I've signed the contract!" He exclaimed, out of breath.

Balin pulled out his monocle and eyed the parchment just as he had done with Freyja's contract. A wide smile spread across the old dwarf's face as he rolled up the parchment and tucked it into his saddlebag. "Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield."

"Get Master Baggins a pony!" Thorin ordered. As the resident pony caretaker, the task fell to Freyja. The dwarrowdam dismounted Fritz and untied the only riderless pony from Bofur's saddle. She checked the girth, making sure it was properly cinched, and led the small horse to Bilbo.

"Oh, no, I will walk." Bilbo shook his head, looking terrified of the harmless animal.

"You will be fine, I promise. Let me help you up." Freyja knelt down and offered the hobbit her knee. Confused, Bilbo stepped forward and up onto her knee, placing one foot in the stirrup hesitantly. Freyja hoisted his other leg over the pony's back, causing his butt to land in the saddle abruptly. The hobbit took hold of the reigns clumsily, holding his hands high in the air.

"Lower your hands. Yes, now do you see how much slack you have? You won't be able to steer properly, so slide your hands further up the reigns," Freyja placed her hand over Bilbo's and guided him until he was in a good position to steer, "There you go. It is tempting to raise your hands up to balance yourself, but you will only end up pulling on your pony's mouth and telling her to stop instead of go forward. Keep your hands low and grab her mane if you feel unbalanced. Good. Ready?"

"I suppose." Bilbo sighed, following Freyja's advice. With a smile the dwarrowdam walked back to her pony, placed her foot in the stirrup, and lifted herself into the saddle with ease. Bilbo was nervous now but would feel more confident after a couple days of riding. Freyja trotted ahead of Fili and Kili to ride beside Bilbo in case he needed any coaching.

Thorin called for the company to ride on, and so they did. As they continued down the forest path small pouches began sailing through the air over Freyja and Bilbo's heads. The dwarves were throwing and catching the pouches, which seemed to be filled with coins.

"Did you place bets on me?" Bilbo asked the old wizard, who was riding in front of him.

"Some of us thought that you wouldn't turn up." Gandalf admitted as Bofur tossed him a pouch of coins as well.

"And what about you? What did you think?"

"I never doubted you for a moment."

Chapter Text

The first few days had been quiet and rather uneventful for the company, much to everyone's surprise. Further into the week when the sun began to lower, Thorin called for his companions to halt their ponies and set up camp for the evening nearby an old, burnt down farmhouse. Gandalf did not approve.

"There is still a good amount of daylight left. I believe we should continue riding until we find a more suitable place to camp." Freyja trusted in the wizard's words, but it seemed as if Thorin and his men did not. The dwarves were hot, tired, and sore from a long day of riding beneath the pounding sun, so they would not be convinced to mount their ponies again.

"No, we will camp here for the night." Thorin ordered firmly, sticking to his original plan. Clearly frustrated, Gandalf continued to argue his case.

"This place is not safe."

"It will do just fine."

Thorin and Gandalf bickered back and forth as the rest of the company untacked their ponies and began to set up temporary tents. Eventually, Gandalf turned on his heel and began to make his way past the group of dwarves in the direction from which they had come.

"Where are you going?" Bilbo called.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who has any sense."

"And who's that?"

"MYSELF, Mister Baggins!" Gandalf disappeared. None of the dwarves or Bilbo had ever heard the wizard so angry, for he was usually very composed. Despite Gandalf's warning Thorin ordered his company to continue setting up camp.

Soon enough the tents were erected for the first time since their journey began, as it was becoming increasingly colder each night, which made sleeping in the open unbearable. A couple of the dwarves began working on starting a fire at the center of camp. A few of the others scavenged some logs to use as makeshift benches as Bombur prepared stew for supper. Freyja, following her contract, checked over each pony to make sure that each of them were healthy and had all four shoes upon their feet. All of them were in the clear, so she released them to go graze in the field beside their camp. Thorin quickly decided that his two nephews would be responsible for watching over the ponies that night.

By the time the sun had set supper was ready and the company had surrounded the fire. Bombur passed around bowls of stew with chunks of bread to each member of the company. Freyja immediately dug in and groaned when the warm stew hit her taste buds. Bombur was an excellent cook and she could only imagine what he could produce when given a proper kitchen and ingredients.

The company chatted and joked amongst themselves well into the night, until the moon had risen high in the dark sky. It was time to retire for the evening.

"There are not enough tents for all of us, so we must pair up or half of us will have to sleep under the stars." Thorin announced as he rose from his seat. The dwarves quickly worked out the situation and decided who would share with who until only Freyja remained. Bofur and Bifur had been kind enough to welcome Bilbo into their tent, but no one had offered Freyja a place. The only one who had not been paired was Thorin himself.

"Very well. Freyja, you are with me." Thorin turned and made for one of the tents surrounding the fire. Freyja thanked Mahal that Fili and Kili were not present to hear the news, for they would surely be giggling and spreading rumors around the camp. The dwarrowdam would have had to share a tent with a man no matter what, for she was the only woman, but the fact that she would have to share with Thorin is what made her nervous.

"Master Baggins, would you please deliver Fili and Kili their supper before retiring for the evening?" Bombur asked, holding out two bowls of stew for the hobbit. Bilbo reluctantly accepted the bowls and made for the pasture where the brothers were watching over the ponies. Freyja was tempted to join him if it meant delaying her arrival at Thorin's tent, but she was growing tired and wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest.

By the time she entered the tent Thorin had already removed his fur coat and boots. There were two bedrolls laid out upon the ground, each with a blanket placed on top for the two dwarves. Thorin stretched out on top of his bedroll as Freyja removed her boots and cloak. The silence was a bit awkward, and it was clear to Freyja that Thorin was tense about something. The dwarf had his arms crossed over his chest and his jaw was clenched as he stared up at the low ceiling of the tent. Freyja did not know whether he was upset at what had transpired between him and Gandalf earlier in the evening, or if he was just uncomfortable with sharing his tent with her.

When Freyja was stripped down to her tunic and her breeches she lowered herself onto the empty bedroll beside Thorin. She pulled the fleece blanket over her legs and laid flat on her back like her tent mate. After a few moments of silence Freyja turned her head to look at Thorin and found that he had not moved an inch. His cerulean eyes were still fixed on the plain, tan cloth of the tent above them.

"If you aren't comfortable with me sleeping here I will move my things outside." Freyja spoke quietly so that she would not disturb their neighboring companions. Thorin still did not move.

"Your presence here does not make me uncomfortable," Thorin assured her, "If it did, I would be the one to move outside."

"You gave up your bed for me a few nights ago. I would not have you give up your tent as well."

"I am happy to share it with you."

"What seems to be the problem, then? You don't look happy," Freyja turned on her side and propped herself up onto her elbow, looking down at Thorin, "Well, you never truly look happy, but tonight you look especially grumpy." She attempted to lighten the mood.

"There is much on my mind." Thorin answered simply, moving an arm to rest beneath his head. He looked up at Freyja and met her gaze for the first time since she entered the tent. The inside of the tent was dark, but the cracking fire in the center of camp leaked through the fabric just enough to provide a dim light. Freyja could see the dark circles beneath Thorin's eyes as if he had not gotten much sleep the night before, and she hoped that his thoughts would not keep him tossing and turning tonight.

"I will not pry, but perhaps it would do you some good to talk about it with someone."

"Perhaps, but I would not wish to burden you with my troubled thoughts."

"It would be no burden, Thorin. I am happily offering to listen, and I will always be available to you should you change your mind." Freyja lowered herself back onto her bedroll and tucked her arm beneath her head, still facing the restless dwarf beside her. Thorin seemed to contemplate her offer for a few moments, his eyes holding hers all the while. Freyja was a beautiful dam, Thorin thought, even in the dark her hazel eyes were shining at him.

Thorin, much like every other dwarf, did not often speak of his troubles with others. He kept his worries and his problems to himself, but for some reason he felt comfortable enough to share everything with the young woman lying beside him, the dwarrowdam he had only known for a few days. The connection that he felt between himself and Freyja was undeniable, and he couldn't help but wonder if she could possibly be his-

"Uncle! We have a problem. It's Bilbo!"

...

"What trouble could the hobbit have possibly gotten into?" Thorin grumbled, sitting up in his bedroll. Fili and Kili were peering into the tent with looks of panic on their faces. Thankfully, Freyja thought to herself, they had not seemed to notice or care about the fact that she was sharing their uncle's tent.

"He came to deliver us our supper, and then we noticed that two of the ponies had gone missing from the herd," Fili explained hurriedly.

Kili picked up where Fili had left off, “Naturally we investigated the surroundings and found a rather large tree that had been trampled over by something huge. We followed the trail and-,"

"Mountain trolls took the ponies, so we sent Bilbo in to work his burglary magic, but the trolls noticed him sneaking about and now they're going to eat him!" Fili interrupted his younger brother's explanation.

Thorin growled something low in Khuzdul, throwing the blankets covering him aside. He quickly pulled on his boots and coat, and then grabbed his sword from the ground. His nephews had already begun waking the other dwarves and telling them to arm themselves.

"It may be best that you stay put for now. Mountain trolls are a little larger than what you're used to dealing with, I would wager."

"No, I'm coming," Freyja argued, "The ponies are my responsibility."

"There is no time to argue. Stay close to me." Thorin pushed through the tent flap with Freyja hot on his heels. The dam clumsily pulled on her coat as she followed the line of dwarves through the trees. Ahead in the distance an orange glow illuminated a circle of trees and a familiar voice was calling for help.

Thorin barked an order in Khuzdul to his men. The dwarves stealthily began to circle around the trolls' campsite, hoping to catch them by surprise. Through the brush Freyja caught sight of the ghastly beasts. They were tall, fat, and terribly ugly. One of them was holding Bilbo in its large, gnarly hand, nearly squeezing the life out of the poor hobbit.

"Stay hidden," Thorin commanded in a voice so low that Freyja had hardly heard it. She opened her mouth to argue, for she wanted to help in whatever way she could, but he interrupted her before she could get a word out, "That is an order, Freyja. Stay put. If anything should happen to us run back to camp, get on your pony, and find Gandalf."

"I am not helpless, Thorin. I am a capable swordsman and-,"

"I have no doubt that you are, but even I am no match for an opponent so large. Do as I say." Thorin unsheathed his sword and charged through the brush with a mighty cry, leaving Freyja alone in the shadows.

...

Perhaps an hour later, the entirety of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, with the exception of Freyja, was tied up in individual burlap sacks. The dwarves had put up a good fight, and Bilbo had even been able to free the ponies from their ties, but the trolls had bested them all. Luckily, no one had been eaten, but it was only a matter of time before they were all roasted on a spit over the blazing fire the trolls had built, for two of them were already being rotated over the flames as it was.

Freyja should have listened to Thorin's orders to run and get as far away from the trolls as she possibly could, but she could not simply leave her new friends, or the heirs of Durin, to be eaten alive in the middle of the forest. Gandalf was nowhere to be found, so it was up to Freyja to save the dwarves and hobbit. Without another thought she burst through the brush and into the illuminated clearing.

"Wait!" Freyja yelled, causing the trolls and the dwarves to silence their chattering and pleas. Her hazel eyes quickly scanned over the group of dwarves piled together beside the fire. Some of them had a look of hope in their eyes, but Thorin was clearly angry. His dark brows were drawn together and his lips were set in a hard line. Freyja had blatantly disregarded her leader's orders, but she was only trying to help.

"What's that? Another dwarf?" The troll who seemed to be the smartest of the three wondered, squinting to get a better look at the tiny woman.

"Aye, looks like it. Shall we tie her up with the others or roast her over the fire?"

"No! You can't eat us like this!" Freyja cried out as one of the trolls reached for her tiny frame.

"Why not?" The troll retracted his hand and leaned down to take a better look at Freyja.

"She's right," Bilbo struggled to his feet in the loose burlap sack he wore, "You don't have the right herbs to prepare dwarves." The hobbit gave Freyja a nod from across the clearing, picking up on her idea to distract the trolls long enough for someone to devise a plan of escape.

"Then why don't we simply eat them raw?" The third troll said with a smirk. He leaned over and took Bofur into one of his large, gnarly hands and lifted him high into the air. The troll dangled the helpless dwarf over his open mouth as the others yelled in protest.

"Stop! Are you daft? You can't eat those dwarves!" Bilbo called above Bofur's terrified cries.

"We have parasites!" Freyja chimed in, causing the troll to squeal and release Bofur from his grasp. The dwarf hit the solid ground with a painful thud.

"What?!" Kili argued, "We do not!" Freyja and Bilbo both rolled their eyes, knowing that the youngest prince may have just blown it for all of them. Luckily, Thorin caught on to what Freyja and Bilbo were trying to do, so he roughly shouldered his nephew. At last Kili and the others understood. Their only hope of getting out of the situation was to somehow trick the trolls into not eating them, for no one was coming to save them and Freyja could not defeat three mountain trolls on her own.

"I've got loads of parasites!"

"My parasites are huge!"

"My parasites have parasites!"

Unfortunately, the trolls caught on to the game that was being played rather quickly. Though trolls were not known for their wits, they weren't stupid enough to believe that each and every dwarf in the company had parasites in their tubes, especially after Kili's outburst.

"Enough of this! Prepare them for eating!" The smartest of the three demanded, continuing to turn the spit above the fire over. The dwarves cried out in fear as they hovered directly above the roaring flames.

"Freyja-," Thorin growled only to be interrupted by a booming voice from above.

"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf announced from atop a large boulder. The wizard raised his staff high above his head and then brought it down on the solid rock with a mighty yell, causing the boulder to split directly in half. The rising sun shined through the newly formed crack and spilled into the hidden campsite, causing the trolls to screech in agony. The giant, ghastly beasts slowly began to change into solid rock, much like the boulder Gandalf stood atop. In a matter of seconds the trolls were statues and the company was saved.

Freyja hurried over to the fire and extinguished it with the bucket of water on the ground beside it. She then unsheathed her sword and cut down the dwarves on the spit, freeing them from their confines. Gandalf had already begun to free the others from their sacks, including an angry looking Thorin Oakenshield.

"Were my orders unclear?" Thorin asked Freyja, well knowing the answer already. Freyja shook her head, "Do you have a hearing impairment that I was not aware of?" Freyja shook her head again, "Then why did you disobey me?"

"I wasn't going to abandon you all and allow you to be eaten by some dim witted mountain trolls." Freyja answered simply.

"You very well could have been roasting over that fire because you did not listen to me." Thorin's tone was dangerously low. Freyja had not seen him in such a state during their time on the road thus far. He had been quiet and brooding, sure, but never angry.

"Yet here I stand, alive, and perfectly unharmed." Freyja crossed her arms over her chest and held Thorin's icy gaze. She would not be intimidated by Thorin, even if he was her rightful king. She had gone out of her way to save his and the rest of the company's lives.

"But you could have been dead along with-,"

"Thorin, if it was not for Freyja and her quick wit, you and the rest of your company would be sitting in the bellies of three mountain trolls. You are all alive." Gandalf interrupted, coming to stand behind the dwarf king.

"No thanks to your burglar." Thorin grumbled, shifting his eyes over to the small hobbit across the camp.

"Freyja and Bilbo distracted those trolls long enough to keep you all from being eaten. None of you thought of that, did you?" Gandalf countered. Freyja smiled up at the old wizard in silent thanks. Gandalf gave her a wink of his eye and then went to investigate the trolls' camp. Thorin followed him and the two of them disappeared into a cavernous like opening, leaving Freyja and the rest of the company to begin packing up their own camp.

"Don't listen to our uncle, Freyja. What you did was very smart and you saved us all." Fili gave the dwarrowdam a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile.

"A beautiful, intelligent, ale drinking dwarrowdam," Kili wrapped his arm around Freyja's shoulder and pulled her against his side, "The perfect woman for me."

"Please, brother, you are far too immature for a woman the likes of Miss Freyja, here," Fili wrapped his arm around her other side, "She wants a man, not a boy. Perhaps a man who is next in line for the throne of Erebor?"

"Your uncle still has plenty of good years left in him. You won't be sitting upon the throne for quite some time, Fee." Freyja grinned up at the blonde, elder brother.

"Aha, so it is Thorin that she wants. I knew it from the moment we caught them in Bilbo's guest bedroom!" Kili exclaimed. Freyja's cheeks began to blush a bright red.

"I think you're right, Kee. Look at how she's blushing." Fili pinched her side playfully, causing her to yelp in surprise. Though Fili and Kili were both young, handsome dwarves, she couldn't help but to feel drawn to their uncle, despite the grumpy, brooding man he was. Perhaps it was his silver streaked raven hair, or his sparkling blue eyes, or his natural born ability to lead. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but Freyja felt something strong and deep inside of her when she looked at the dwarf king.

"I think uncle needs a pretty young thing such as yourself to lighten his mood. We see the way he looks at you when you're working with the ponies," Kili said in Freyja's ear, "And the way he spoke to you a moment ago? He wouldn't have shown so much concern for your well being if he did not care for you."

"Right again, brother. I think we will have an Auntie Freyja by the time this quest is over." Fili added, causing Freyja to blush even more brightly.

"Oh stop it, the two of you. We need to get packing. Help me with the ponies before your uncle starts barking at us all to get moving."

Chapter Text

By the time Thorin and Gandalf had emerged from the cave, the camp had been cleaned up and the ponies tacked. The company would continue riding onward despite the short amount of sleep they had gotten the night before, much to everyone's displeasure. If they were to arrive at Erebor by Durin's Day, they needed to keep riding.

Gandalf had found a variety of old, elven made swords inside the trolls' hole, which was a rare treasure indeed. Thorin seemed reluctant to use a weapon created by elves but Gandalf urged him to carry it with honor, for it was one of the finest swords he would ever use. Even Bilbo now had his own dagger, though he didn’t have the first clue how to use it.

Suddenly, as the company was preparing to depart, the brush surrounding the camp began to rustle violently, and out burst a man on a sled pulled by a dozen rabbits! Thorin and his dwarves unsheathed their weapons, preparing to defend themselves if need be, but Gandalf assured them that this man was a friend of his that could be trusted.

"Radagast, what brings you here?" Gandalf wondered. The man upon the sled looked to be a wizard as well, for he wore robes similar to Gandalf's and a funny hat, though they were in brown, not grey. Radagast seemed frazzled, and a bit crazy, to be truthful. His hair was absolutely wild and there were bird droppings on the side of his bearded face.

"Gandalf, the forest is sick. There is a darkness spreading," Radagast admitted to his friend, "I went to Dol Guldur. There is necromancer living there, for the dead have risen."

"What do you mean? Dol Guldur is abandoned. No one has lived there for ages." Gandalf dismissed Radagast's claims, clearly not believing them.

"I saw the witch king of Angmar and a shadow necromancer. They nearly killed me, but I escaped with this," Radagast pulled something wrapped in cloth out of his bag and handed it over carefully to Gandalf. Without touching the object itself with his bare hands, Gandalf pulled away the fabric to reveal a sword. The weapon itself looked as if it were enchanted with dark magic, and the look of Gandalf's face confirmed that something was indeed dangerous about the blade, "You must take it to the White Council and present it to them."

Before Gandalf could respond, a loud howl sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo wondered, looking panicked. Freyja had never heard a wolf howl quite so strangely.

"That is no wolf. It is a warg scout, which means a pack of orcs is not far behind." Thorin deduced, his companions nodding in agreement. Suddenly, a large, wolf like beast that could only be the warg Thorin had just spoke of, leapt through the trees and into the clearing, causing each of the ponies to spook and gallop off with the supplies still tied to their saddles.

Thorin, acting quickly and gracefully, put his newly found sword through the warg's large head and ripped it back out, causing the beast to drop dead to the forest floor.

"Who did you tell about your quest, Thorin? Who did you tell?!" Gandalf demanded.

"No one, I swear it. Why?"

"The orcs must know of our intentions of taking Erebor. We need to get moving."

"I'll draw them off." Radagast decided, hoping that he would be able to distract the orcs long enough for the company to get to safety.

"These are Gundabad wargs. They will outrun you." Gandalf countered.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits," Radagast said with a twinkle in his eye, "I'd like to see them try." He clucked to his team of rabbits and disappeared through the brush.

"Radagast may have his rabbits, but we no longer have ponies. They spooked and took off when the warg attacked." Freyja said, feeling rather worried about her position in the company. The ponies had been her responsibility, so now that they were gone, what purpose did she serve?

"We will have to run on foot," Gandalf answered, "Let's go."

Gandalf took the lead and the rest of the dwarves, and Bilbo, fell into a single file line behind the wizard. Beyond the trees was a large, open landscape with rolling green hills. In the distance Freyja could see Radagast and his rabbits leading a large pack of orcs upon wargs on a wild goose chase, trying to keep them distracted. Though she would never admit it, she was afraid. The company was clearly at a disadvantage, for they had no mounts, unlike Radagast and the orcs. She prayed to Mahal that they would make it to safety before the orcs discovered Radagast's rouse.

"Freyja and Bilbo, stay close!" Thorin ordered from the front of the group as they sprinted through the clearing. Freyja found herself behind Kili and in front of Fili, which was as safe of a position as any. Everyone was sprinting at full speed with weapons unsheathed, their heads whipping around constantly, trying to keep tabs on the pack of orcs.

When Radagast appeared overtop of a hill, Thorin ordered the company to hide behind a large rock formation. The brown wizard whipped around said rock formation, leading a group of orcs straight past the hiding company. Knowing better than to immediately leave cover, Thorin looked to his youngest nephew, Kili, and then glanced upwards, signaling for him to check on top of the rocks they hid behind. Kili nocked an arrow and took a deep breath before quickly jumping away from the wall of rocks and into the open. There stood a warg with an orc upon its back.

Kili let his arrow fly, and it sunk deep into the warg's shoulder, causing the beast to roll down the side of the rocks and on onto its rider. The orc recovered from the fall quickly and stood up, lunging forward to strike at the nearest dwarf, which happened to be Dwalin. The tall, balding dwarf brought his weapon down on the orc with a mighty swing while the rest of the dwarves tore into the warg. The beast let out a loud, pained cry, which surely caught the attention of the rest of the orc pack.

"Let's go!" Gandalf ordered, taking off at a run. The company bolted across the open fields until they came upon a slightly wooded grassland where another small rock formation sat.

"They're coming!" Fili called, warning the rest of the company. Sure enough, orcs and their warg scouts were quickly approaching the company from all sides, cornering them against the rocks.

"This way, you fools!" Gandalf shouted from behind the group. He had found an opening in the rocks that seemed to lead somewhere, which was a much safer bet than trying to fight the orcs. Thorin began to guide his dwarves down the hole while Fili, Kili, and Freyja stood watch with their weapons drawn. The orcs were upon them.

Kili continued to let arrows fly, managing to knock some of the orcs off of their mounts, while Fili began to run for the opening in the rocks. Thorin called for Kili and Freyja, telling them to follow Fili, and so they did. As Freyja followed the youngest prince she heard someone yell her name in warning, but it was too late for her to react. Something sharp dug deep into her thigh and yanked her to the ground.

The dwarrowdam wailed in pain, and then fear when she realized that her leg was clenched between the teeth of a warg, "Ithmir!" Freyja screamed in the dwarvish tongue.

Kili whipped around and quickly nocked another arrow, launching it through the air where it then sank into the head of the warg. When the beast's jaws released Freyja's leg, she rolled over onto her back and met the eyes of its orc rider. Its face was evil and disfigured, with a pair of glowing eyes and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. The monstrous looking creature loomed over Freyja, preparing to spear her with his weapon, but the dwarrowdam acted first. She raised her sword and pierced it through the orc's belly with the little strength she had, but it was enough to save herself.

Suddenly, Freyja felt a pair of hands grip her beneath the arms and hoist her up off of the ground. It was Thorin that had come to save her. Once she was on her feet, Thorin bent over and wrapped one muscular arm around her waist and lifted he over his shoulder, quickly sprinting back to the hole the rest of the company had disappeared through before another warg could pounce on them. With little grace, Thorin jumped down into the hole with Freyja on his arms, where they then tumbled down the severe decline and came crashing down onto the hard ground beneath.

When they finally landed, Freyja found herself lying on top of the dwarf king, his arms still wrapped securely around her. Both of them were sweaty, out of breath, and in a great deal of pain; Freyja due to the warg's bite, and Thorin due to the fact that Freyja had landed on top of him after such a long fall. Freyja, who was far too weak to lift herself from the dwarf king's body, rested her head against his shoulder. Thorin's hand wandered down to her right thigh and came away covered in blood from the warg's puncture wounds, "Oin!"

The grey haired dwarf pushed through the crowd and knelt down beside the bloodied and bruised pair. The healer helped roll Freyja off of Thorin and onto the cold, hard ground of the cave where he could inspect her wounds, "All I can do right now is wrap her leg. I don't have the necessary means to prepare a salve in this cave since the ponies took off with my ingredients." Oin informed Thorin, who was now tearing a strip of fabric off of the tunic he wore beneath his heavy fur overcoat.

Outside of the cave, horns and galloping could be heard. Someone was up there hunting down the remaining orcs, and it surely was not Radagast. One of the ugly creatures came rolling down the steep, rocky slope and landed at the dwarves' feet. The orc was dead; a beautifully crafted wooden arrow was lodged in its skull.

"Gandalf has led us to the elves' doorstep," Thorin handed Oin the fabric with a frown upon his lips, "I am sure they will have everything you need."

Oin wrapped the cloth around Freyja's thigh gently but tightly enough to stop the bleeding and then tied it off with a secure knot. It would do for now, but Freyja hoped that the journey to the elves' home would not take too long. She felt dizzy and feverish; she was sure the bite wounds would become infected if they did not act soon.

"Fili, Kili, help her up. Let's get moving."

...

With the help of the brothers, Freyja was able stumble along behind the rest of the company through the cave. As they neared the exit, beautiful orange sunlight began spilling onto the rocky walls and ground. When they finally stepped out of the darkness of the cave and into the shimmering rays, an audible gasp could be heard from various members of the company.

"Rivendell." Bilbo broke the silence, his eyes wide and mouth agape. There sat the city of elves, and it was just as gorgeous and mystical as Freyja had pictured it to be. The intricately carved stone buildings were set into the side of the mountain; numerous waterfalls cascaded down the walls and off of the edge of it. It was something from a dream. Not even Ered Luin could rival Rivendell's beauty.

The throbbing in Freyja's thigh began to come harder and faster, causing her to let out a pained groan. Thorin tore his gaze from the city below to look back at Freyja and his nephews, who were still holding her upright between them, "Uncle, we need to get down there." Fili said. Thorin was reluctant to turn to the elves for help but he had no choice. His company was out of supplies and Freyja was injured.

Kili leaned down and scooped the dwarrowdam carefully into his arms, pushing through the crowd of dwarves with Fili hot on his heels. The company followed and descended the rocky path towards the city of Rivendell. Freyja, feeling completely drained of energy and blood, let her head fall against Kili's shoulder, "Kili..."

"Just rest, we'll get you taken care of and you'll be back on your feet before you know it." Kili's words were the last thing Freyja heard before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Freyja didn't know how much time had passed or where she was when she finally woke. She slowly sat up, causing the soft, silken sheets that had been covering her to fall and pool around her waist. She was in a bed large enough for the whole company to fit in comfortably, though she was happy that none of them were around, for someone had stripped her down to her smallclothes to treat her injury.

Freyja tossed the sheets aside and inspected her thigh. It was wrapped in fresh cloth and already felt a hundred times better than it had when Kili was carrying her. Oin's salve must have been magic if it had already begun to heal her wounds. Testing the waters, the dwarrowdam slowly slid off of the side of the bed until her feet made contact with the stone floor. Before she could stand completely, the bedroom door swung open to reveal a tall, beautiful elven woman with a pile of towels in her arms.

"Oh, mellon! You're awake!" The elf smiled, setting the towels down on the foot of the bed and coming around to help Freyja onto her feet, "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, um...better, I think?" Freyja allowed the elf to take her by the arm. The dwarrowdam put some weight onto her injured right leg and there was not nearly as much pain as there had been before, much to her surprise. "It still hurts but it's bearable." Freyja informed the elf.

"Wonderful, mellon. Perhaps if you are feeling well enough I can assist you in bathing and dressing for dinner?"

"I wouldn't want to trouble you, Miss...?"

"Eloen, and it would be no trouble at all. It is my job to help you however I can. I'll get the bath water running for you." The elf, Eloen, disappeared into the bath chamber and soon the sound of running water could be heard. Freyja slowly wandered into the adjoined room, where Eloen was pouring wonderfully scented soaps into the quickly rising bath water. The room began to smell of sweet vanilla.

"That smells divine. For the past couple of weeks I've only smelled dirt, camp fire smoke, and the sweat of thirteen dwarves!"

"Oh, that must be dreadful! Thankfully my Lord Elrond provided your friends with their own bedchambers so they surely will be bathed before dinner," Eloen turned off the faucet and stirred the water with her hand, "Whenever you are ready, mellon."

Freyja wasn't used to undressing in front of anyone, but Eloen was a handmaiden and she was friendly enough, it seemed. Freyja quickly stripped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the tub, lowering herself into the water. She was sure to keep her right foot propped up on the edge of the tub so that her wrapped thigh would not get wet.

"I have never seen a female dwarf before. You are quite beautiful," Eloen told Freyja as she began pouring water gently over her head, "But you will be breathtaking when I am finished cleaning and dressing you. You'll have those stinky dwarves swooning over you."

"Thank you, Eloen, but I don't think any of them will be too concerned over me." Freyja admitted, enjoying the feeling of the elf's fingers running through her dirty hair. Eloen squeezed a fair amount of soap into her hands and began scrubbing it into Freyja's scalp as gently as she could in order to wash the grime away.

"I would have to disagree, mellon. A couple of them were rather worried for your well being," Eloen explained. Freyja assumed she meant Fili and Kili, for they were truly her only friends in the company, "Especially the one with black hair. I think he is your leader?"

"Thorin?"

"Yes! He checked on you rather often."

Freyja suddenly felt herself blushing. Thorin had come to see her while she was recovering? Oh, Mahal, had he seen her in her smallclothes again? How embarrassing!

"I've had a lovely blue gown altered for you. He simply won't be able to resist you when he sees you in it." Eloen rinsed Freyja's long locks with clean water and then began to scrub more soap into them, for they weren't nearly clean enough yet.

"He is royalty and I am a horse-shoer from Ered Luin."

"That means nothing, mellon." Eloen countered politely, rinsing Freyja's hair once more. When she was completely clean of dirt and grime, Eloen pulled the plug and allowed the water to drain from the tub. She helped Freyja to her feet and patted her dry with one of the plush towels she had brought into the room after the dwarrowdam had woken, and then wrapped it around her body.

For the next hour Eloen pampered Freyja. She wove the dwarrowdam's long, dark locks into a beautifully intricate braid and then adorned it with fresh flowers from Rivendell's gardens. Though hair braiding was a sacred and intimate act that was supposed to be reserved for courting dwarves, Freyja made an exception for the friendly handmaiden. Eloen then helped her into the deep blue dress she had personally picked for Freyja. After tying off the laces, securing the dwarrowdam inside of it, they were finished.

"Beautiful, and just in time for dinner," Eloen looked over Freyja and smiled in approval, "Are you ready?"

"Let's go."

...

Eloen guided Freyja through the winding stone halls with one hand on her arm and the other around her shoulder. Though her leg felt much better, walking was still a slow and painful process. Eventually they came upon a balcony overlooking the city where a long table filled with food and surrounded by the company sat. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, causing vibrant orange and pink sunlight to wash over the seating area. It was just as, if not more, breathtaking than Freyja's first glance at Rivendell.

When Eloen and Freyja approached the table, the company went silent and all eyes fell on them; similar to what happened when they first saw her in Bilbo's dining room.

"What did I tell you, mellon?" Eloen whispered in Freyja's ear as she guided the dwarrowdam around the table to the empty seat beside Thorin. The dwarf king rose from his seat and pulled the chair out for the injured dwarrowdam. Eloen helped lower Freyja into her seat and then leaned down to speak into her ear once more, "And you thought he wasn't interested."

Thorin returned to his own seat, his eyes not leaving Freyja for a single moment. As she looked around the table, Freyja noticed that all of the dwarves still had their eyes trained on her, even Bilbo.

"If no one else is going to say it, I will," Kili broke the silence at the table, "Freyja, you're stunning."

"Absolutely radiant." Fili added.

"A true beauty!" Dwalin called from the other end of the table.

"A beautiful sight for these old eyes." Gandalf chimed in.

"Oh, stop, you'll make me blush," Freyja laughed, reaching for the glass of wine sitting in front of her and taking a sip. It was not as good as the ale she normally drank but it served its purpose. The dwarrowdam wouldn't be feeling any pain at all if she had enough, "It is Oin we should be complimenting. His salve has worked wonders on my wounds."

"I'm afraid not, lass," Oin replied, "Lord Elrond had an elf healer see to your injuries. Elf healing is truly magical."

"How are you feeling?" Thorin finally asked after the company continued to complain about the green, leafy foods that Lord Elrond had provided for their dinner. The dwarf king was not often speechless, but after laying eyes on Freyja, he could not find any words. She had been breathtaking the first time he'd see her, but now even more so.

"I am well, thank you. I would be in much worse condition if you hadn't stepped in after that warg sunk its teeth into me."

"Well enough to take a walk with me after dinner? There are some things I would like to discuss with you." Thorin leaned back in his chair and sipped on his own glass of wine, his eyes not leaving hers.

"You may have to help me along, but yes, I would be glad to."

"Excellent."

...

When the dwarves had finally decided that they had had enough of the elves' vegetarian dinner they excused themselves from the table to head to their bedrooms. The sun had set and the silver moon was beginning to climb up into the darkening sky, and the city was even more beautiful than it had been during the day.

Thorin and a Freyja were the last ones seated at the dinner table, for Gandalf had gone off to present the sword Radagast had found to the White Council and Bilbo was roaming the gardens. The king rose from his chair and extended a hand to Freyja, which she gladly accepted. He helped her out of her seat and onto her feet, promptly offering her his arm. The two walked side by side out of the dining hall and down the stairs leading to the moonlit pathways of Rivendell.

The city was peaceful; the only noises to be heard were the waterfalls cascading down the side of the mountain and the dwarf couple's footsteps. The silence between Thorin and Freyja was not awkward or tense. It was comforting, though it was eventually broken by the king's low voice.

"Do you want to continue onward with us or will you stay here in Rivendell with Lord Elrond?" He inquired.

"Why do you ask?"

"Your sole purpose for joining my company was to tend to the ponies, and now we have none. I assumed that perhaps you would prefer to stay here or return to Ered Luin. Especially now that you are injured." Thorin admitted. He was not forcing Freyja to stay or travel home, he was asking what she wanted. The dwarrowdam was surprised that he was not demanding her to stay put while he and his company continued traveling to Erebor.

"My purpose for joining your company was to help you take back our homeland, and I will not give up now, even if I am injured." Freyja answered, her voice stern.

"I thought as much," Thorin chuckled, gazing down at the dwarrowdam on his arm. He admired her determination, even if it did put her in danger more often than not, "If that is your choice, then the company will stay here in Rivendell for another day or two until you are in better shape to travel. Lord Elrond has kindly offered to allow us to stay here as long as we need."

"We need to get to Erebor before the last light of Durin's Day. We cannot afford to spend any more time-," Freyja argued, only to be interrupted.

"You need to heal, and the others need some time to rest. It will be fine. I don't want to hear any more arguing from you."

"Who are you and what have you done with Thorin Oakenshield?" Freyja pulled back slightly and looked up at the king skeptically. She had never seen him quite so relaxed and easy going, "He would be demanding that we pack our things and hit the road right now so that no more time is wasted. Where has he gone?"

"I think he is standing next to me, for you certainly sounded like him a moment ago." Thorin answered, that playful sparkle in his eyes. Freyja laughed, looking away from the king and gazing at the moonlit city around them.

"Rivendell is certainly beautiful. I can't remember the last time I've seen such a breathtaking view." Freyja sighed, her thumb mindlessly rubbing against Thorin's forearm.

"This place will be all but forgotten when you see Erebor again."

"I don't remember what it looked like. I'm not sure if that's because I was so young when I was last there, or if it's because my mind has wiped those terrible memories away."

"It is a sight to behold. A lone mountain standing tall, surrounded by forests, rolling green hills, and crystal clear streams. I long to see it again." Thorin spoke softly, looking off into the distance as if he were trying to picture it there in front of him.

"What happened that day, Thorin?" Freyja wondered. Thorin did not speak right away, making the dwarrowdam wonder if she had crossed a line by asking such a question. She was simply curious, but she couldn't blame the king for not wanting to speak about that tragic day.

"I was out on one of the balconies overlooking the city of Dale, speaking with Balin about something. This was before his beard had turned white as snow and my hair began to grey," Thorin finally spoke, "Then the winds began to pick up speed; faster, stronger, and warmer than the usual gusts. The grasses whipped and the pine trees cracked. It was then that I realized something was coming,"

"I called out to those around me, warning them that a dragon was on its way, and then it was there, swooping down over Dale. It breathed flames over the city, killing those who could not escape, and then it turned its attention to Erebor. It approached the very balcony Balin and I stood on and spewed its fire at us as well, but I was able to pull Balin behind a stone pillar before the flames could reach him. By then the mountain had begun to evacuate, but only a fraction of us made it out alive,"

"There was no fighting the dragon. It killed everyone and everything in its sights. I helped as many as I could out of the mountain. Running was our only option. As we made for safety, the elves appeared from the west, but when I called for their aid, they turned and left us to die. I led the survivors to Ered Luin, and that was it. For the past few decades I've worked as a smith to support my sister and my nephews, until Gandalf found me and urged me to take back Erebor."

"My father and I were amongst the group you led to Ered Luin, I would wager, though I have little memory of it. You must have been rather young at the time, too." Freyja added.

"I was only twenty four."

"You are not as much older than me as I thought you were."

"Perhaps my constant worrying has aged me. You, however, do not look a day over eighty. There is not a silver hair on your head or a wrinkle upon your face." Thorin complimented.

"You don't have any wrinkles either, Thorin. Though you do have quite a bit of silver in your hair. It only adds to your looks."

"It will not be long before silver is the only color I will have." He admitted.

"You will be a silver fox, I promise you." Freyja grinned up at the king, only to be given a similar smile of his own. Oh, how her heart fluttered upon seeing him look at her in such a way. Freyja's cheeks were positively blushing.

"And you will be a raven haired beauty for many years to come. Now, let's get you back to your bed chambers and off of that leg, shall we?"

"Yes, please."

Chapter Text

Thorin escorted the hobbling dwarrowdam through the halls of Rivendell until they finally arrived at her bedroom door. The rooms in that specific hallway were all currently occupied by members of the company; Thorin's was only a few doors down. The king kindly opened her door and motioned for Freyja to enter.

"Would you like to come in? It looks as if Eloen has left me some tea and biscuits." Freyja invited her escort in, but he polietely shook his head.

"Forgive me, but I must leave you. I have a meeting with Lord Elrond and Gandalf. When your handmaiden returns, have her tend to your wounds and dress them in fresh cloth, understood?"

"Yes, sir. I won't disobey orders this time," Freyja assured the king, "Thank you for the lovely evening stroll."

"Thank you for accompanying me," Thorin lifted Freyja's hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, "I will see you in the morning at breakfast." He reluctantly let Freyja's much smaller hand go and went on his way, leaving the blushing dwarrowdam standing in the doorway of her bed chambers. Oh, she was smitten.

Eloen suddenly appeared from around the corner of the hallway and rushed to Freyja's bedroom, first aid supplies in her arms, as if she had known that the dwarrowdam would be requiring them. There was a knowing smile upon the elf maiden's lips when she reached the red cheeked dam.

"What did I tell you? Now, let's take care of your leg and get you into bed for the night. You'll need your beauty rest for tomorrow."

...

After a night of wonderfully restful sleep Freyja woke to her newfound elven friend preparing a bath for her. Eloen repeated the process from the night before; washing Freyja's hair, braiding it beautifully, and then helping her dress. Today the dwarrowdam opted for a pair of breeches and a simple tunic instead of a gown, much to Eloen's disappointment, but the elf maiden still complimented her beauty nonetheless.

"Shall I escort you to breakfast?" Eloen asked as she folded Freyja's discarded towel and hung it over the side of the bathtub.

"No, thank you, Eloen. My leg is feeling so much better this morning. I think I will be able to walk there myself."

"Excellent, my lady. I will clean up here, then, and see you this evening."

Freyja made her way out of the bedroom and into the hallway, following the path Eloen had taken her down the previous evening. Soon enough she found herself at the balcony where the dining table was located and encountered the majority of the company minus Thorin, his nephews, and Dwalin. Disappointed that the king was not seated at the head of the table, Freyja sat beside Bilbo and poured herself a glass of water.

"Good morning, Freyja. Are you feeling any better today?" The hobbit inquired in between bites of bread.

"Oh, yes, thank you for asking, Bilbo. How were the gardens? I bet they were beautiful beneath the moonlight." Freyja grabbed a roll of bread for her own plate.

"Absolutely amazing. Lord Elrond has been kind enough to allow me to take a few seeds with me so that I may plant them in my own garden back home." Bilbo informed the dwarrowdam, who was chewing on her breakfast.

"That was very generous of him. I'm sure they will make a fine addition to your garden, though it already looked quite beautiful to me."

"Thank you. My garden was the one thing that managed to avoid being damaged by you lot when you invited yourselves into my home a couple of weeks ago."

"Aye, laddie, but we cleaned up after ourselves, didn't we?" Bofur said with a mouthful of food.

"Only after Thorin ordered you to pick up your mess," Bilbo rolled his eyes at the hat wearing dwarf, "It's impolite to chew with your mouth full, Bofur."

"Speaking of Thorin, where is he this morning? And Kili, Fili, and Dwalin, for that matter?" Freyja wondered, hoping she didn't sound to desperate to see the dwarf king. Luckily, none of the dwarves really seemed to notice.

"Ah, they're down on the beach sparring." Balin answered, his nose stuck in the pages of a book. It looked as if Lord Elrond had opened his library to the company as well.

"Oh, well I think I might go watch, then." Freyja excused herself from the table after she had finished her bread and glass of water, strolling down the stairs toward the sand. As she neared the beach, the four dwarves came into view. Thorin and Fili were currently facing off. They both had a sword in hand; Thorin was holding Orcrist, the elven made blade that Gandalf had found in the troll hole. Though the weapon was new to Thorin he handled it flawlessly.

Freyja stepped off of the stone steps and onto the warm sand, enjoying the feeling of the coarse grains between her toes. The sun was shining overhead, warming her and causing the calm river to glitter. When Kili caught sight of the dwarrowdam approaching them he flashed a smile and waved her over.

"Good morning, sunshine," Kili wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, "I can't decide if I like you better in a dress or in trousers. You're beautiful either way."

"I'd prefer her in nothing!" Fili called, looking over his shoulder to wink at the dwarrowdam. Thorin, taking advantage of his nephew's distraction, swept Fili's feet out from underneath him and sent him tumbling onto the sand. Freyja looked at the dwarf king up and down, taking in his appearance. Thorin was breathing hard after such exertion, and his blue tunic was sweat soaked.

"Oh, Fili, do you really want me to come over there and kick your arse?" Freyja taunted, knowing full well that she shouldn't be sparring while healing from an injury. She was almost completely better, however, and felt like having a bit of fun. Fili grinned up at her from the sand.

"Aye, the lass could beat you even with a bum leg, I'd wager!" Dwalin laughed, crossing his arms over his burly chest.

"She will do no such thing," Thorin commanded, "She should be resting that leg."

"Do you want me to kick yours as well, my king?"

"Careful, lass." Dwalin warned, though there was a smile on his lips.

"Oh, I think uncle wants you to do a lot of things to him, though I'm not sure kicking his arse is one of them." Kili answered Freyja.

"KILI." Thorin growled.

"The same could be said for you, brother." Kili smirked at his older sibling.

"KEE!" Fili responded similarly to his uncle.

"Well, which one of you wants to go first, then?" Freyja asked after her giggling had subsided, "Afraid to fight a woman?"

"More like afraid to be chopped into pieces by a woman," Fili said, finally rising from the sand to stand on his feet. He handed his sword over to the dwarrowdam, "Uncle can go first."

"How is your leg?" Thorin asked Freyja as she stepped away from the brothers and Dwalin and approached him, testing the weight of Fili's blade in her hands. It was a little heavier than she was used to, but she could make it work.

"Fantastic. Don't you see me walking on it without any help? It looks as if nothing has even happened to it." Freyja answered, trying to convince him that she would be good to spar. She did feel fine, and the wounds had already disappeared. There was little pain left, and by tomorrow she would be ready to get on the road again.

"I suppose the elves are good for something after all, then."

"It seems like you're trying to stall, oh mighty King Thorin. Are you afraid?"

"Never. I am ready when you are," Thorin gripped Orcrist's hilt and raised the sword into an on guard position, preparing for Freyja's first strike. Freyja mimicked Thorin's position; feet shoulder width apart, her right foot slightly further forward than her left, her knees bent, and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The dwarrowdam and dwarf king stared each other down, though Freyja had a smirk on her lips all the while, "You won't be so cocky after I've knocked you on your backside."

"Is that a threat?" Freyja chuckled, tightening her grip on her sword's hilt.

"It's a promise." Thorin answered without hesitation.

"Don't let him intimidate you, Freyja!" Kili called.

"Aye, he's an old man!" Fili added.

With that, Freyja lunged forward, hoping to catch the 'old man' off guard and land a jab. Thorin, though seemingly distracted by his nephews' insults, was more than ready enough to deflect her attack and sent her staggering backwards. Surprised, but not discouraged, Freyja recovered and slowly began to circle Thorin. His head turned to follow her, but he did not change the position of his body. Once Freyja was out of his direct line of sight, she went in for another attack. The dwarf king gracefully spun in the sand and deflected Freyja's sword with his own once again, causing her a bit of frustration. Though Freyja was a skilled swordsman, she was not as skilled as Thorin in actual combat.

"If you would allow me, I would offer you some words of advice," Thorin broke the silence, lowering his sword. Constructive criticism would do nothing but benefit Freyja, especially when it was coming from none other than Thorin Oakenshield. The dwarrowdam nodded, accepting Thorin's gracious offer, "Your stance is excellent and needs no tweaking, but it is obvious that you aren't very familiar with fighting a living, breathing person. Let's start with your grip. You're holding the hilt a bit tight and it's causing your attacks to be messy and not as fluid; it'll also cause you to tire quicker. Grip the sword with your thumb, pointer, and middle finger, and let the other two curl around the hilt loosely. Good, how does that feel?"

"Much better, thank you. What else needs fixing?"

"Your mechanics are good. You clearly know what you're doing. All you need to do now is practice applying your knowledge and skills to live combat."

"So, just to be clear, what you're saying is that I need to spar with you until I'm bloody and bruised?"

"Precisely."

Chapter Text

Freyja did just that. The pair spent hours on the beach until the sun was beginning to lower. Fili, Kili, and Dwalin came and went as they pleased, checking in on Freyja's progress every so often. Some of the other members of the company came down to the beach to cheer Freyja on as well, which brought a bright smile to the exhausted dwarrowdam's face.

Thorin was a patient and kind instructor, much to Freyja's surprise. He spent hours beneath the hot sun sparring with Freyja and helping her improve without complaint. By the time they had decided to call a quits they were both absolutely drenched in sweat and Freyja had a painful amount of blisters on her palms. Her entire body was sore and aching due to the amount of times Thorin had sent her tumbling to the ground, but her injured leg had held up surprisingly well.

"I hope to Mahal that Eloen has a bath ready for me when I get back to my bed chambers," Freyja dropped Fili's borrowed sword and fell to her knees on the sand, then flopped onto her back, finally taking a proper rest, "I smell worse than you, if that's possible."

"Is that your subtle way of telling me that I need to bathe?" Thorin chuckled as he made for the edge of the river. He lowered himself to his knees slowly and peeled his tunic away from his sweat soaked skin, tossing it aside.

"You're looking a bit arthritic over there, old man." Freyja teased as she watched the dwarf king lean forward and dunk his head into the water. Oh, he looked the opposite of an old man in that moment. Thorin's muscular body was even more impressive now that it wasn't hidden beneath a tunic, and Freyja's mouth was practically watering while looking at it. His skin was glistening with sweat and lined with scars of all shapes and sizes from past battles. Freyja wanted to crawl to his side and simply run her fingers along those raised scars, or her tongue.

"First I smell and now I'm old? You're beginning to sound an awful lot like my nephews." Thorin's voice shook Freyja out of her deeply naughty thoughts. After removing his head from the river his hair was drenched and dripping down his back. The cool river water certainly looked refreshing, and it was tempting Freyja to strip down to her smallclothes and jump in, but she was much too shy to do that. She would settle for a warm, soapy bath in the comfort of her bedchambers.

"Please tell me you're actually going to take a bath instead of just dunking your head in river water. That's hardly enough to mask the stench of sweat."

"Some of us were not given our very own servants to bathe us and tuck us into bed," Thorin retreated from the edge of the water and sat beside the dwarrowdam sprawled out on the sand, "After sparring for the majority of the day I'm rather exhausted, and I'm not sure if an old man such as myself will have the energy for a proper bath."

"Shall I send Eloen your way? She has excellent taste in soap and her hands are heavenly."

"As tempting as that sounds, I will have to decline. I am not fond of elves."

"Eloen is wonderful. You cannot judge her without having met or spoken with her. She is not one of the elves that left us to die the day Smaug attacked." Freyja sat up, not caring that her back was covered in sand.

"That may be true, but I still do not have the time to be distracted by some elf maiden when I have such an important quest at hand. My focus, as well as yours and the rest of the company's, needs to be completely on the journey ahead if we are to be successful." Thorin countered. What had happened to the kind, carefree dwarf that Freyja had taken a walk with last night? Perhaps the wine at dinner had loosened him up and after sobering he'd returned to his regular, uptight self.

"Fine, I'll keep Eloen to myself, then."

"Are you and the elf maiden..?"

"No, though she has been a very kind friend to me since our arrival here."

"Good. I think my nephews would be rather disappointed if it turned out that you were interested in females instead of males."

"They know that I'm interested in males." Freyja said blatantly without thinking.

"How so?" Thorin raised an eyebrow in curiosity, assuming that she could only mean that she had told his nephews that, or shown them.

"Oh, Thorin, don't worry," Freyja smiled, "I'm not 'distracting' Fili or Kili from the quest. Much like Eloen, they are only my friends and I will always only see them that way," She reassured him, "In fact, they are more like brothers to me now."

"They may be even more disappointed to hear that." The king chuckled.

"Please. Once we've taken Erebor and beautiful, young, noble dwarrowdams come flooding into the mountain, I will be all but forgotten." Freyja said, knowing that she was right. She hoped that Thorin would not forget her as well, but she knew that he would. A king needed a queen and Freyja would never be one.

"If we are successful, will you stay?" Thorin asked for the second time. He had asked the very same question in Bilbo's gust bedroom that first night but Freyja had not given him a true answer. After getting to know the company better she found herself wanting to remain with them once they reached Erebor. The ragtag group of dwarves, and Bilbo and Gandalf, had become like a family to her in the time she had known them.

"I would very much like to. I have no family in Ered Luin. What purpose would I serve in Erebor, though, I wonder?"

"You could be whatever you'd like. There will be many roles to fill."

"Even the stablemaster?" Freyja wiggled her eyebrows, trying to persuade the king. If the dwarrowdam knew anything, it was horses. She would be a perfect fit for the job. Perhaps she could even do some smith work on the side, for Erebor was known for the many jewel and metal mines inside of it. She would have an endless amount of resources to work with.

"You will be plenty rich after we take the mountain. You wouldn't rather lounge in your bedchamber, wearing silk robes, counting your every coin while servants tend to your needs?" Thorin wondered. Though it sounded heavenly, Freyja would not be content with sitting around and accomplishing nothing all day every day. She was young and able to work, so she would.

"In the evenings, perhaps, but I would still like to contribute in some way when I'm not sitting on my pile of gold like a dragon."

Thorin once again found himself admiring Freyja's commitment. She was beautiful, a strong warrior, and a hard worker. Though she could be foolhardy at times, she was perfect in Thorin's eyes. He didn't often find himself thinking about the opposite sex or what he would want in a potential mate but now he certainly was. Freyja was indeed the dwarrowdam for him, and if she was his, he wouldn't allow her to work a single day in Erebor. Thorin would dress her in the finest gowns, adorn her in jewelry crafted by his hands alone, and take her to a bed large enough to fit the entire company each night. She would complain that he was pampering her too much, yes, but he would never cease treating her like the queen she is.

What was he thinking? Thorin scolded himself and looked away from the dwarrowdam at his side. Freyja would never want him. He was old and had nothing to promise her at the moment, and the quest to retake Erebor could very well fail, so he may never have anything to promise her at all. She would want someone like his nephews; young, charming, and carefree. Thorin was quite the opposite of each of those traits. But she had said she would never want Fili or Kili romantically...what about him or the rest of the company?

"Thorin, you look like you are somewhere very far away." Freyja placed a hand on his bare shoulder, but thought twice about it when she remembered the blisters covering her palm, so she pulled back. The brief touch was enough to bring Thorin out of his head.

"Forgive me, I was lost in thought."

"You had an exceptionally grumpy scowl on your face for a minute there," Freyja chuckled, wanting to reach out and smooth the crease between his dark brows, "You hardly ever smile. You should do it more often."

"You and my nephews smile enough for me and the rest of the company."

"Yes, but it looks better on you," Freyja admitted, causing her cheeks to warm up and turn pink. Now would be a good time to excuse herself to her bedchamber for a bath, "I'm going up to bathe. I'll see you at dinner, yeah?"

She was up and climbing the stone steps towards the city before Thorin could speak a word, though he couldn't even if he had tried. He was too busy grinning down at the sand.

...

"Oh, Eloen, I've made such a fool of myself!" Freyja exclaimed as she sat in the bubbly bath water, the elf maiden's hands washing her sweat soaked mane of hair.

"You complimented him, mellon," Eloen laughed airily as she scrubbed, "There is nothing wrong with that, now is there?"

"I was being flirty and he has no interest in me romantically whatsoever. He probably thinks me to be a nuisance." Freyja splashed her hands against the surface of the bath water in frustration, causing her open blisters to sting. The dwarrowdam recoiled with a pained hiss.

"From the sounds of it you got up and scampered off before he could say anything. You cannot see how he truly feels about you, but I certainly can."

"He will never want me, Eloen. I'm some dirty, low born stable girl he met a couple of weeks ago, not a noble beauty. He needs and wants a queen; someone elegant, proper, and royal."

"I would want someone as intelligent as she is beautiful, someone who knows the value of hard work, someone light hearted to keep me on my toes, someone brave who faces their fears, someone who isn't afraid to pick up a sword and fight alongside the strongest of men," Eloen spoke softly, "I would want someone like you, mellon. Why can't you see that he wants you, too?"

...

Eloen would not allow Freyja to leave for dinner in anything other than the stunning scarlet dress she had picked out for her, so she patiently waited for the elf to tie up the painfully tight corset. Oh, the sacrifices women make for beauty. When Freyja was secured into the gown Eloen moved on to braid her dark hair.

As Freyja sat on the bench at the end of the bed and waited for Eloen to finish, she found herself beginning to feel sad, "I will miss you when we leave tomorrow, mellon."

"Ah, you've been practicing your elvish I see!"

"It's the only word I know, so I wouldn't say that," Freyja admitted, "I asked Gandalf what it meant at dinner last night."

"I will miss you too, but we will meet again someday," Eloen assured the dwarrowdam, though Freyja doubted it. Even if the company was successful in retaking Erebor Freyja wasn't sure if she'd ever be back to Rivendell, "When you become Queen Under the Mountain I will have to pay you a visit, after all."

...

Freyja asked Eloen to escort her to dinner that evening simply because it would be the last time that they would see each other, until Freyja became Queen Under the Mountain, as the elf reminded her. When the pair arrived at the doors of the balcony they gave each other a soft smile and a hug, though it was a bit strange seeing as how Eloen was much taller than Freyja.

"Thank you for all of your help, advice, and kindness. I hope to see you soon." Freyja released the elf maiden and reached for the doorhandle, turning it and opening the door to reveal the entire company waiting for her at the long dining table.

"Farewell, mellon." Eloen closed the door behind Freyja and made her way down the hall to see to her other chores.

Tonight the table was stocked with more than just green, leafy vegetables and wine. The elves seemed to have scrounged up some meat and ale for their dwarven visitors! Freyja's eyes scanned over the table, looking for an available seat, and found one beside Thorin yet again as if he had been saving it for her. The dwarrowdam gave the king a smile and made her way to the head of the table where she found an unfamiliar elf sitting on the other side of Thorin.

"Freyja, it is a pleasure to finally speak with you. I'm afraid you were a bit out of sorts at our first meeting," The dark haired elf greeted her, "I am Lord Elrond."

"I was wondering when I would get to meet you. I hear that it is you I owe my thanks to for healing my leg." Freyja took a seat across from the elf king and kiddy corner to Thorin.

"It was no trouble. I am glad to see that you have recovered. Warg bites can tend to get nasty if they go untreated for too long."

"Eh, if it's alright with you down there we would like to eat! We were polite enough to wait for the lass, but we're starving!" Bombur called from his end of the table. The rest of the dwarves grumbled in agreement.

"You didn't have to wait on my account, dig in!" Freyja answered, "I see that the menu is a little different tonight."

"Yes, it came to my attention that dwarves don't quite enjoy the vegetarian lifestyle as much as we elves do, so I sent out a hunting party earlier today to fetch you all some meat. I hope you find it satisfactory." Lord Elrond leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his wine.

The company seemed to find it more than just satisfactory. The dwarves were absolutely wild as they grabbed for the food and piled it into their plates. Dwalin seemed to be building a mountain of meat on his own! It had been a while since the company had had a meal so fresh and filling, so it was no wonder that they were scarfing down the food like wolves.

"Eat your fill. We leave at dawn, so there will likely not be enough time for breakfast." Thorin finally spoke as he reached to fill his own plate with food, though he was not nearly as messy or greedy as their companions.

"I have supplies ready and waiting for you. They should last you a good while." Lord Elrond informed Thorin as the dwarf king ate.

"That is very kind of you. Thank you for the supplies and your hospitality." Freyja said between bites. She hoped that they would be able to last until they reached Erebor, but it was highly unlikely. Especially because they had no ponies so they were limited as to how much they could carry.

"You are welcome, Miss Freyja. Now, I have some things I must attend to, so I must take my leave. Safe journeys, Thorin Oakenshield." Lord Elrond rose from his seat and excused himself from the rowdy table full of dwarves.

"I like him. He's friendly, like Eloen."

"He does not think we will be able to retake the mountain." Thorin answered shortly, clearly irritated.

"Well, it does sound a little insane, doesn't it? Fourteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard want to take Erebor from a fire drake. I certainly thought you were all crazy when Gandalf invited me to join your company."

"Do you not believe in us? Do you think we will fail?" Thorin practically interrogated the dwarrowdam. His voice was low, his dark brows were drown together, and hips lips were turned downward in a disapproving frown. Freyja would not be intimidated, and frankly, she was tired of his hot and cold attitude.

"I wouldn't be coming with you tomorrow if I didn't believe in the company. In fact, I wouldn't have accepted Gandalf's offer in the first place, so you have no right to ask me such a question," Freyja tossed her cloth napkin onto her dinner plate and rose from her seat abruptly, sending the chair to slide across the stone floor loudly, "I've lost my appetite. I will see you all in the morning."

Freyja stormed past the dining table and through the double doors into the hallway, making her way to her bedchambers for the evening. If this was how Thorin was going to continue to act for the remainder of the journey she wanted nothing to do with him.

Chapter Text

Freyja was tucked into her large, comfy bed when a knock came from the door. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, the dwarrowdam told whoever it was to go away and let her sleep, for she had already changed into her nightgown and cocooned herself into the silken sheets.

Whoever was on the other side of the door had either not heard what Freyja had said or they had chosen to ignore it. The door swung wide open and revealed none other than Fili and Kili with a try of food between them, "You're in bed already? The sun hasn't even set yet!" Kili said as he shut the door behind him and his brother.

"You left dinner without touching your food, so we saved enough to make a plate for you," Fili rounded the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, setting the food piled plate on the bedside table, "I fought Dwalin for that chicken leg, I'll have you know. I nearly lost my hand."

"I'm not hungry, but thank you anyway." Freyja grumbled, pulling the sheets over her head.

"We don't know how long it will be 'til we have another meal like this, so you should eat up," Kili said; Freyja could feel him take a seat next to his brother on the bed, "Come on, I snagged you a honey cake!"

"I said I'm not hungry!" Freyja practically growled at the brothers. She couldn't see their faces due to being hidden beneath the sheets, but she knew that they were probably wearing a look of surprise. Freyja was the most even-tempered member of the company so it was quite out of the ordinary to hear her speak that way. Fili and Kili knew that something had to have happened at dinner to put her in such a mood, but they had been at the opposite end of the table so they hadn't seen or heard anything until Freyja up and left.

"Are you feeling ill?" Fili inquired, pulling the sheets back to reveal the grumpy dwarrowdam. He placed his hand against her forehead, feeling for any signs of fever.

"I can go fetch Oin for you if that's the case." Kili offered.

"I'm not sick." Freyja assured them, gently pushing Fili's large hand away from her forehead. The golden haired prince kept her hand in his, a look of concern in his sparkling blue eyes. They resembled his uncle's, but the last time Freyja had looked into Thorin's eyes she had found nothing but anger.

"What's wrong then, Freyja. What's happened?" Fili wondered. It troubled Fili and Kili to see their friend upset, and Freyja knew that they would remain at her bedside all night until she finally told them, so she gave in.

"Your uncle. That's what's happened," Freyja released Fili's hand and sat up, propping the soft pillows up against the headboard to make a comfortable backrest. She reached for the plate of food the brothers had brought her and set it on her lap. They had managed to get her a chicken leg, a large scoop of vegetables, a roll of bread, and a fresh honey cake for dessert, "He was rude to me at dinner."

"What do you mean? He did nothing but sing your praises when he came from sparring to wash up. You should have seen the smile on his face." Kili informed the dwarrowdam, who was picking at the food they had brought her.

"I can't imagine why he would have acted that way," Fili added, "I don't think it was your fault, though. Something else must have set him off. Once he's in a mood he takes it out on everyone, I'm afraid. Just like our mother."

"Oh, I know what set him off," Freyja said with a mouthful of bread. Oh, how Bilbo would have scolded her if he could see her talking with a mouthful of food, "Apparently Lord Elrond made it clear to your uncle that he thinks our quest will fail. He was angry before I even sat down at the table."

"Yep, that'll do it." Kili decided, swiping a piece of the bread roll off of Freyja's plate and popping it into his mouth.

"Well, what did he say to you that made you leave?" Fili inquired, sending a glare over to his brother.

"I told him that it does sound a bit crazy to an outsider looking in, and then he asked me if I doubted us as well," Freyja said between bites, "I told him that I wouldn't have joined the company in the first place if I didn't believe in us, and I was offended by his asking, so I got up and left."

"He must have felt sorry, then, because he's the one who told us to make you a plate and bring it to you so you wouldn't starve." Kili informed the dwarrowdam.

"Aye, consider this his apology, then." Fili added.

"Sending you two buffoons with a plate of food doesn't count as an apology." Freyja finished off the chicken and started on the honey cake.

"There are plenty of ladies that would be delighted to be served dinner by two young, dashing dwarves such as ourselves!" Kili argued, snatching the dessert out of Freyja's hand before taking a bite out of it.

"Perhaps Miss Freyja would prefer to eat her dinner off of our bare-"

"That's quite enough, Fili!" Freyja giggled, setting the plate aside. Feeling full and in a much better mood, she relaxed against the headboard.

"Look at that, she's smiling again. I'd say our job here is done, brother." Kili slid off of the edge of the bed and made for the door.

"Goodnight, Freyja." Fili scooped the plate off of the bedside table and followed his brother out, leaving Freyja alone in the darkening room to rest.

For the first time since being in Rivendell the dwarrowdam ran herself a bath on her own and sank into the steaming water with a contented sigh. Tomorrow the journey would continue, but for tonight, Freyja would relax.

...

"Thank you again for your hospitality, Lord Elrond. I hope to see you again someday in the future." Freyja said as she hoisted a bag of supplies over her shoulders. The company was beginning to file out of the city in a line, minus Gandalf. He still had business to discuss with the White Council, but he would surely catch up later. He had a habit of disappearing, only to reappear when you all needed him most.

"You are very welcome, my lady. Safe travels to you and your friends." Lord Elrond bowed his head as Freyja followed behind Bilbo. The company exited Rivendell along a mountain pass, which was narrow and rather dangerous looking, but it was the quickest way to get back on track.

At first it was quiet and peaceful as Thorin lead the company along the rocky ridge. Freyja tried hard not to look down into the crevice below, for it was a long, long way down. After a few hours, as the company moved forward, the sky began to darken and fat raindrops began to fall from above. The sun had completely disappeared behind a mass of dark, dangerous looking clouds. Lightning began to streak through the sky in bright flashes, and loud claps of thunder followed.

A short distance ahead, on the other side of the crevice, a gigantic figure emerged from the side of the mountain, as if it were peeling away from the vast wall of stone. The being towered far above the dwarves and hobbit and was made completely of rock, as if it were part of the mountain itself.

"Stone giants!" Thorin yelled from the front of the group, warning the company. Freyja had never seen such a thing before, and she found herself wondering whether stone giants were friendly or dangerous. The creature looked threatening, yes, but it hadn't done anything to try and harm the company yet. Until it grabbed a large piece of rock off the mountain side and hurled it at them.

The stone crashed against the mountain far above the company, causing it to shatter and send shards of rock falling below. Some of the pieces nearly knocked the dwarves off of the ridge they stood upon. Thinking they were safe to move, Thorin ordered the company to go forward, but suddenly the very mountain they stood upon began to move. They had been standing on another stone giant!

The ridge the company was standing on separated as the stone giant pushed itself away from the side of the mountain. The dwarves and hobbit were standing on its kneecaps, so when the stone giant's legs began to spread, half of the company was on one, and the other half was on the other. Kili nearly went tumbling over the side and down into the crevice, but Freyja and Bilbo caught him just in time. As Bilbo leaned down to haul Kili to safety, he lost his footing and fell over the side. Luckily, he had grabbed the ledge just in time to save himself from falling to his death.

Thorin lowered himself over the edge and boosted the hobbit up and into Freyja's arms. The dwarf king lifted himself back up with little issue, though he looked rather irritated with Bilbo even though he had just saved one of his nephews from falling.

The stone giants went back and forth in a deadly game of throwing boulders at one another while the company jumped off of the creature's legs and onto a stable, nonmoving platform of rock. They moved away from the battling giants until they were at a safe distance, and then a Thorin called for the company to stop and hide inside of a cave until the storm cleared.

The company unpacked their bedrolls and spread them out over the hard, rocky cave floors so that they could catch a bit of sleep while they waited out the raging thunderstorm and the noisy battle of the stone giants in the distance. Freyja found herself beside Bilbo, but he looked as if he had no intention of going to sleep. Perhaps he was still a bit shaken after his near death experience only moments ago.

The dwarrowdam looked to the front of the cave where Thorin was laying out his own bedroll. She wanted to go speak with him but she wasn't sure what would happen if she did. Fili and Kili had told her that bringing her dinner last night was his idea, but why didn't he deliver it himself if he wanted to apologize? Maybe he was too proud, or perhaps the brothers had simply told Freyja that to make her feel better. Either way, the dwarrowdam wondered if her and Thorin would ever be able to go back to their friendly talks and sparring, or if they would simply leave each other alone for the remainder of the journey. The latter made her heart ache. Freyja had come to like Thorin very much in the past weeks; he had become a good friend and mentor to her, and she had been hoping that he would become more than that someday.

Freyja laid down on her bedroll and pulled a blanket over her shivering body, for her clothes were still soaked from the rain. Eventually she was able to warm up enough to fall into a light sleep, but the sound of someone shuffling by roused her. Bilbo had his bag of supplies on his back and seemed to be preparing to leave the cave.

"Are you going somewhere, Bilbo?" Freyja whispered, for the dwarves were all asleep.

"I think I'm leaving." He answered, gazing out of the cave at the pouring rain.

"Where will you go?"

"Back to Rivendell, I think, and then home to Bag End."

"It's dangerous out there."

"Yes, but I don't belong here with all of you. It was a mistake to come."

"If this is what you want, I won't stop you," Freyja assured the hobbit. It was his decision whether he stayed or went, even if she would miss his companionship, "Safe travels, Bilbo."

The hobbit stood up and began to tiptoe through the group of snoring dwarves when his dagger began to glow a bright, blinding blue. Gandalf had mentioned in the troll hole that elven made swords tended to glow blue when goblins were nearby...

"Wake up!" Bilbo yelled, his voice echoing through the cave. Most of the dwarves were sitting up instantly at the sound of the hobbit's voice, "Goblins!"

Before anyone could act, the very floor beneath the company opened, sending all fourteen dwarves and Bilbo falling into a deep, dark hole. This was it, Freyja thought to herself, this would be their end.

Chapter Text

Freyja thought 'the end' would be falling onto some rocky stalagmite and being impaled, but it turned out to be landing on top of a pile of dwarves, specifically Bombur's round belly. Luckily, she had been the one to land on top of the company and not the one to land beneath them.

Freyja slid off of the mound of dwarves with a groan while the rest of them recovered from the hard fall. The dwarrowdam rose to her feet and took in her surroundings. They had fallen onto a circular platform at the end of a long wooden walkway, which was suspended high into the air. Before the dwarves could prepare themselves, a horde of goblins appeared from around the corner, nearing the platform at a quick pace. The company was cornered and had nowhere to run.

The goblins were on them in a flash, picking them up off of the wooden planks and surrounding them entirely, forcing them to walk along the path to some unknown location. Freyja could only assume that they were being taken to their deaths, for goblins didn't strike her as the type to keep prisoners. The nasty little creatures led the dwarves through the large, open cavern until they came upon a much larger wooden platform in the very center. The company was completely surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of goblins on all sides, and in front of them sat the largest goblin of all, the Great Goblin.

As Freyja looked around with her hazel eyes open wide in fear, she noticed that Bilbo was missing from the group. He had either managed to slip away unnoticed or had missed the platform when they had first fallen.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is; Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain," The fat, boil covered Great Goblin taunted, "Oh, but I'm forgetting; you don't have a mountain, and you're not a king, which makes you...nobody, really."

The goblins laughed at that but Thorin was not amused. His dark brows were drawn together and his blue eyes were trained on hideous creature before him. If looks could kill, the Great Goblin would be lying dead before the company.

"I know someone who would pay a pretty price to have your head," The Great Goblin leaned over to speak with a smaller goblin beside him, "Send word to Azog the Defiler. Tell him that we have his dwarf king."

Azog the Defiler, also known as the Pale Orc, was quite possibly the most feared orc in the history of Middle Earth. He lead the orc army in the battle of Azanulbizar at the gates of Moria, and he was the one who had beheaded Thorin's grandfather. It was believed that after Thorin had taken Azog's arm he had died, but it seemed as if he had not. Why else would the orcs and warg scouts have been chasing the company just days ago? It was all beginning to make sense.

"That monster died of his wounds long ago." Thorin countered, his voice raised.

"Did he?" The Goblin Goblin let out a loud laugh, "Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung! You will die down here and never be found! Down in the deep of Goblin Town!"

Suddenly, goblins surrounded the company again and began to rip their weapons out of their hands and off of their belts. One particular goblin snatched Orcrist from Thorin and unsheathed the blade, revealing the magnificent blue glow that it emitted when goblins were near. The creature dropped the blade with a hiss as if it had harmed him.

"He possesses Orcrist, the Biter! Seize them!" The Great Goblin commanded, practically shrinking back in his seat at the sight of the sword. Before the goblins could act on their leader's orders a flash of white appeared from thin air and sent the horde of goblins surrounding the dwarves staggering backwards. When the smoke began to clear, Gandalf was revlealed, holding his own glowing blue sword, Glamdring. He had come to save the company.

...

"Run!" The wizard commanded, taking off at the head of the group. The dwarves snatched their weapons back and fought off the goblins blocking their path. They followed after Gandalf, who was leading them down an unfamiliar path. Freyja sure hoped that he knew where he was going. If they ended up trapped or cornered they would surely be killed.

As Gandalf and his group of fourteen dwarves ran across the rickety wooden pathways of Goblin Town they were met with obstacle after obstacle. Goblins attacked them from all directions, planks of wood deteriorated beneath the dwarves feet, and they even had to cross a large chasm by swinging on a mobile bridge; luckily no one had fallen off. Freyja was feeling hopeful that they would actually manage to escape in tact when suddenly the Great Goblin himself burst upward though the wooden planks in front of the company, causing them to slide to an abrupt halt.

"So you thought you could escape me! What are you going to do now, wizard?" The ghastly creature taunted Gandalf as the goblin horde that had been chasing them grew nearer by the second. In a matter of moments the company would be dead if they did not devise a plan of action. There were no other pathways to take other than jumping off of the walkway and into the chasm, but that would surely end in death, for it was a long fall to the bottom. The only option was to get the goblin king out of the way, and Gandalf seemed to recognize that rather quickly.

The wizard lunged forward and sliced open the Great Goblin's belly, causing the beast to hiss in pain, "Well, that'll do it."

Clearly not satisfied, Gandalf slashed its throat as well, causing the massive goblin to fall dead onto the wooden walkway. The rickety structure wasn't able to support the weight of him, though, and it began to groan in protest. Before the dwarves could jump to safety the walkway beneath them collapsed and began to fall into the chasm below. Freyja felt a pair of strong arms surround her and pull her against a solid chest as she screamed in fright. For the second time that night the dwarrowdam thought that they would die without even seeing Erebor.

...

"You've got to be jokin'!" Dwalin said between clenched teeth. No, the company hadn't been killed on impact after falling into the chasm, for the wooden walkway that had collapsed beneath them had cushioned their fall. However, the Great Goblin's fat, lifeless body had also fallen into the chasm and had landed directly on top of them. The dwarves, being the strong, resilient folk that they were, were able to take the brunt of the Great Goblin's weight without being absolutely crushed to death.

Freyja had closed her eyes in fear when the walkway collapsed and she hadn't opened them since. She could still feel someone's arms tightly wrapped around her and her face was pressed into the very same person's chest, as if whoever it was that had grabbed her was trying to shield her from any falling debris. When she opened her eyes and looked up, she found none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself holding onto her. His blue eyes met hers and then scanned over her face, checking for any signs of injury, "Are you alright?"

"Yes...I think so." Freyja honestly couldn't tell, for they were still pinned beneath a ton of wooden planks and a heavy dead goblin, so she couldn't really move any of her limbs. She felt sore and terribly dirty, but that was to be expected after what had just happened.

"Dwalin!" Thorin called, "Get us out of here." Dwalin, who had managed to free himself from the debris, began to dig through the pile and pull the dwarves out one by one, until Freyja finally felt the wooden planks being pushed off of her and a pair of strong hands pulling her up and away from Thorin.

"I'm glad to see ya in one piece, lass!" Dwalin set Freyja on her feet and gave her a firm clap on the back. Dwalin offered Thorin a hand and pulled him to his feet as Freyja dusted herself off. Everyone had been rescued from the debris unharmed but a bit shaken up. Three near death experiences in one day was quite enough for Freyja.

"We need to keep moving. We aren't to safety just yet." Gandalf said, waving the dwarves over to an opening in the cavern wall. The goblins were surely devising a plan of action far above them, for they weren't about to let Thorin Oakenshield run free when there was such a large bounty on his head. Without argument, the dwarves moved to follow their wizard leader through the opening and into a narrow pathway.

"Stay close to me," Thorin instructed under his breath as he passed in front of Freyja, "I don't want you getting lost."

Lost. Freyja suddenly remembered that Bilbo hadn't been among the group since they first fell into Goblin Town and they were about to leave him behind. The hobbit surely had to be somewhere in the caverns, dead or alive, though Freyja hoped it was the latter. Where could he have gone?

The company followed the pathway until sunlight became visible, spilling into the mouth of the cave. One by one the dwarves emerged from the darkness into the beautiful evening sun, as the storm clouds had cleared during their time in Goblin Town. They descended the forested hill until they felt that they were a safe distance from the cave and then gathered up into a circle for a headcount.

"Bilbo is gone," Freyja informed the dwarf king as he counted the dwarves, "He's been missing since we first arrived in Goblin Town."

"He's abandoned us to go home to his books, his armchair, and his garden, no doubt." Thorin said with venom in his voice. Freyja knew that she had seen him fall when the cave floor had opened beneath them, but she had no memory of seeing him while they were being taken to the Great Goblin. She decided that she would not tell Thorin that she had seen Bilbo preparing to leave them before the whole mess had happened. Freyja looked to Gandalf, who seemed to be equally as worried about the small, defenseless hobbit.

"No, I haven't." A familiar voice spoke up from behind the group. The dwarves turned around to see that Bilbo had indeed survived the ordeal and hadn't abandoned them in the slightest. Freyja gave the hobbit a warm smile as he approached the company.

"What happened to you, Bilbo?" She asked.

"I fell to the bottom of the cavern, but I found my way out eventually." Bilbo answered. It seemed as if the company had had luck on their side today. They had all survived Goblin Town.

"Why have you come back?" Thorin stepped forward, glaring down at the hobbit, "Why do you want to help us?"

"I have a home. I have my books, my armchair, and my garden," Bilbo answered simply, "But you don't have a home; it was taken from you, and I will help you take it back, if I can."

Bilbo's heartfelt confession seemed to win over the majority of the company, though Thorin still seemed unimpressed. The dwarves greeted the hobbit with pats on the back and warm, welcoming smiles while Thorin stood back with his arms crossed over his chest.

Freyja wandered over to the dwarf king and stood before him with her arms outstretched, reaching up to wrap them around his neck. Thorin stiffened briefly, confused as to what the dwarrowdam was doing, but then relaxed into her warm embrace. This is what he wanted, after all, wasn't it? He simply hadn't been expecting it.

The dwarf king uncrossed his arms and wrapped them around Freyja's waist, pulling her closer against his chest. He buried his sharp nose into her hair and allowed his eyes to fall shut briefly, enjoying the feeling of being held by her. Thorin could feel her fingers combing through the ends of his silver streaked hair; his arms closed more tightly around her as she whispered in his ear, "Remember what I told you on the beach."

Thorin pulled away slightly so that he could meet the dwarrowdam's gaze. Freyja was delighted to see that the corners of his mouth were drawn upward just barely. Mahal, he was gorgeous. Freyja was tempted to take it a step further and place a kiss on those grinning lips of his, but then she realized that twelve dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard were directly behind her and most likely staring at the two of them.

"Thank you for looking after me today, and last night in Rivendell. Your nephews tell me that it was you who had dinner delivered to me in bed." Freyja said, speaking a bit louder than when she had whispered to him but still low enough that the company wouldn't hear.

"It was the least I could do after what I said to you," Ah, so it had been an apology, then, "I considered bringing it to you myself, but I assumed that you would have shooed me out of your bedchambers if I had."

"No, I think I would have done the opposite actually.." Freyja grinned up at the dwarf king with a blush on her cheeks. Even Thorin himself turned a bit pink at that!

Before another word could be spoken between the embracing pair, a familiar howl sounded in the distance. No, it was not a wolf, but a warg. The orcs had caught up to them. The playful glimmer in Thorin's eyes disappeared and was replaced with concern. He released Freyja but kept her close by his side as he looked to Gandalf.

"Out of the frying pan.." He started.

"And into the fire." Gandalf finished.

Chapter Text

There was no escape for the company. The orcs had chased them to the bottom of the forested hill to the edge of a cliff. The only place to go was up, so they did just that. The dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf climbed into the trees high enough that the wargs wouldn't be able to reach them, and then waited.

The pack of orcs appeared through the trees moments later with a large, white warg at the head. Upon its back sat an equally pale orc; Azog the Defiler. Freyja looked up to Thorin to find his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Though Azog was clearly missing the arm that Thorin had cut off all those years ago, he was still living and breathing, and he wanted the dwarf king dead.

The wargs approached the trees the dwarves were occupying and leapt as high as they could, their mouths salivating and jaws snapping. This could very well go on for hours if the dwarves did not figure out a way to escape or fight the orcs off.

"Here!" Gandalf exclaimed, lifting the end of his staff to meet a large pine cone he was holding. The pine cone lit on fire and the wizard handed it off to Kili, who then threw it down below at the circling wargs. The pine cone exploded as it made contact with the ground and lit the surrounding leaves and pine needles on fire as well. Gandalf continued to create more of the makeshift explosives and handed them off to the rest of the company to throw. The flames began to create a barrier around the trees and forced to wargs to retreat. However, it also caused the surrounding trees to begin burning.

The fire had scared off the wargs, yes, but they would wait around for the flames to die off or for the trees the dwarves sat in to fall. The company was trapped and would surely die either way. The bright, hot flames began to climb up the trees, forcing the dwarves to gather into one single tree at the very edge of the cliff. One dwarf, however, descended from the tree and unsheathed his sword. Through the smoke Freyja recognized the familiar shape of Orcrist. Thorin was going to fight Azog.

The dwarf king walked through the dying flames with his weapon in one hand and an oaken shield in the other, approaching Azog and his white warg without fear. Thorin had thought that the Pale Orc had died in the battle of Azanulbizar, but he hadn't, and now he would finish off the monster for good. The white warg snarled, saliva dripping from its wicked teeth as Thorin neared. Azog simply smirked.

Thorin charged at Azog with a loud battle cry as the orc dug his heels into his warg, sending the beast lunging forward. The warg knocked Thorin flat on his back and then circled him as he began to lift himself up and off the ground. Azog gave Thorin no time to recover and was charging at him again before he was even on his feet. The orc slammed his mace into Thorin's chest and sent him sprawling onto the ground again.

"No!" Balin cried out. The tree was beginning to fall off of the side of the cliff and the dwarves were struggling to hold on to the branches. The company watched as the white warg took Thorin into its mouth and clamped down, causing the dwarf to yell in pain. Dwalin yelled Thorin's name desperately, moving to go help his dear friend, but the other dwarves held him back knowing that he would likely meet his death if he attempted to take on Azog.

"Thorin!" Freyja cried out, scrambling to haul herself on top of the tree trunk, which was now completely horizontal and hanging over the edge of the cliff. The dwarrowdam stopped when she noticed a pair of bare feet walk over the tree in front of her eyes. Bilbo was going to help Thorin. The hobbit ran towards the dwarf king, who had just been tossed onto the cold, hard ground by the white warg. An orc was closing in on Thorin until Bilbo attacked him with his short sword. The hobbit managed to kill the ugly creature but the rest of Azog's pack had surrrounded him and Thorin, who was no longer moving.

Bilbo stood over Thorin protectively, swinging his sword at the approaching wargs, and then something large swooped down over the pack and grabbed one of the beasts in its talons. It was an eagle, though it was ten times the size of a normal one. The eagle ascended high into the sky and then opened its claws, releasing the warg and its orc rider, sending them plunging to their deaths. Then another eagle swooped down and repeated the process, and then another, and another.

Then the eagles began to grab the dwarves out of the tree; two of them managed to get Thorin and Bilbo. The company had somehow managed to escape death four times in one day; Freyja was beginning to wonder when their luck would run out. Perhaps the eagles would accidentally drop one of them, or maybe their leader wouldn't make it alive to wherever the gigantic, feathered creatures were taking them. Freyja looked around in search of the dwarf king and found him dangling limply from the talons of another eagle. She couldn't tell if he was breathing or not, but it was clear that he was terribly wounded.

...

The eagles carried the company far away from Goblin Town and the orcs. By the time they had gently dropped the dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf onto a large, flat rock the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon. Freyja and Gandalf immediately rushed to Thorin, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed; he didn't appear to be breathing. The dwarrowdam leaned down and pressed her ear against his chest. His heartbeat was faint and slow.

"Gandalf, you have to do something!" Freyja exclaimed, absolutely panicked. Tears began to sting her hazel eyes and threatened to spill down her flushed cheeks. Without Thorin the company would have no leader and the quest would surely fail; none of the dwarves would know what to do with themselves. What would happen to Fili and Kili if they lost their uncle? Thorin was the one who had raised them from little dwarflings into the men that they had become. It would be like losing their own father. Freyja knew that feeling and it was heartbreaking. Hot, salty tears rolled down the dwarrowdam's cheeks and onto Thorin's still chest.

Gandalf crouched beside the fallen dwarf king and placed a hand over his mouth. The wizard spoke something to Thorin in such a low voice that his words were practically inaudible. Freyja could only assume that it was some sort of healing spell, for Thorin suddenly took a deep, gasping breath. His heart began to beat strong and fast beneath Freyja's ear, causing the dwarrowdam to lift her head from his chest and look down at his face. Thorin's eyes fluttered open and scanned over Freyja's wet cheeks. He slowly reached up and brushed away the tears from underneath her eyes with his thumbs, "Don't cry, ghivashel."

"I thought you were dead." Freyja managed to choke out. Thorin continued to run his thumbs soothingly across her cheeks until she began to calm down. In truth, Thorin had thought that he was dead as well. The white warg had sunken its teeth deep into his flesh and had surely drained a dangerous amount of blood from his body before tossing him about like a rag doll. The last thing Thorin remembered was Bilbo fighting off the orc that had intended to kill him and bring Azog his head.

"But I am not," Thorin began to sit up carefully, groaning in pain, as he had deep warg bite wounds in his sides. Freyja assisted the dwarf in standing up and making his way to the group, who had been anxiously awaiting for him to awaken. The dwarves were smiling in relief, but Thorin was looking at none other than Bilbo. Freyja thought that Thorin was going to scold the hobbit for coming to his rescue after the white warg had nearly torn him apart, but instead he hugged Bilbo and held him close, "If it were not for Bilbo I very well could have been. I have never been so wrong about anyone in my entire life."

The dwarves cheered at Thorin's words and patted both him and Bilbo on the back. The dwarf king and the hobbit had finally made their peace, which was a relief to everyone, especially Gandalf. It was as if the company was finally coming together as one large, loud, cohesive family. The sight of her friends laughing, smiling, and simply being alive brought a smile to Freyja's face.

The dwarrowdam turned away from her celebrating companions and looked at her surroundings. There on the horizon was a single mountain that could only be their destination; Erebor. It was beautiful and mysterious as it sat alone in the distance. Thorin hadn't been lying when he told her that Rivendell would be forgotten once she laid eyes on her homeland again. Freyja felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders and knew right away that it was none other than the dwarf king himself, "You were right. Erebor certainly is a sight to behold."

"Yes, it is," Thorin agreed, tearing his gaze away from the mountain to look down at the dwarrowdam beside him. Freyja's met his eyes and smiled up at him; the corners of his lips curved upwards in return, "But I have found something even more beautiful than the mountain."

"Are you talking about the Great Goblin? I found him rather attractive myself." Freyja joked, causing Thorin to chuckle and shake his head at the dwarrowdam. Mahal, that feeling deep inside of him grew stronger and stronger every single day. He was falling for her, no, he had fallen for her, and he wanted nothing more than to make her his. Thorin was not one for sharing his feelings with anyone but he desperately wanted and needed to tell Freyja his intentions. When and if Erebor was retaken, he wished to court her and eventually make her his queen. He hoped that she would accept. Now was not the time for such a conversation, however, for the company needed to be fed and rested before they could continue onward to Erebor.

"No, she's a little mountain troll, believe it or not," Thorin informed her, referring to the conversation they had had in Bilbo's guest bedroom on the very first night they had met. Freyja did not laugh, though Thorin's comment made her immensely happy. Perhaps Fili and Kili had been right all along, for their uncle was making it rather clear that he felt something more than friendship for her. The thought brought a wide smile to her face. She never could have imagined that she would find love, but it seemed as if she finally had, as Thorin's feelings for her were more than mutual, "Come, the lads are eager to make camp for the day. We all deserve a long rest after what we've been through in the past hours."

Chapter Text

A while later the company had found a nice spot to set up camp. It was a small clearing in the forest that wasn't too far from a stream, much to everyone's delight. They were all eager for a good washing after being manhandled by goblins, after all.

The dwarves immediately went to work setting out their bedrolls, starting a camp fire, and preparing an early lunch. Some of the supplies Lord Elrond had provided for them had been lost when the company first fell into Goblin Town, but they still had enough food to last them for a while. Freyja was ecstatic to discover that the honey cakes had managed to survive; as was Kili.

The company sat around the fire, joking and telling stories as they waited for Bombur and Bilbo to finish preparing their meal. Gandalf was leaning against a tree, smoking his pipe contentedly as he watched over his companions. Freyja was sandwiched between Fili and Kili on a makeshift log bench, though she wasn't paying them any attention as they joked back and forth; she was watching Oin and Thorin converse at the edge of camp. It was clear that Thorin was still in a good amount of pain from his tangle with Azog and his white warg.

Oin sent Thorin on his way and then wandered back into camp to retrieve his bag, catching Freyja's eye as he did so. Thorin disappeared through the trees, surely heading to the steam to clean himself up, "Lass, if you're bored with these two buffoons you are more than welcome to join me."

Freyja was surprised by his offer. The dwarrowdam rarely conversed with the company's resident healer, though she admired his skill and wisdom, "Where are you going, if I may ask?"

"Gandalf's little spell brought Thorin back from the brink of death but it didn't manage to heal those warg bites completely," Oin informed Freyja as he slung his bag of healing supplies over his shoulder, "He's in a bit of pain so I'm going to patch him up. Perhaps you'd like to learn a thing or two about healing now that you've got no ponies to look after?"

"Are you offering me an apprenticeship?"

"I suppose I am. It would be nice to have a helping hand around here."

"That would be wonderful, Oin. Thank you!" Freyja rose from her seat between the brothers and followed Oin to the edge of camp and then through the trees. Freyja had never considered taking up the art of healing before, though it was something that interested her quite a bit. She was eager to learn something new and have an actual role within the company once again.

"Lord Elrond provided me with a great deal of supplies, thankfully, so we should have everything we need. Thorin should be nearly finished washing up, so all we'll need to do is sew him up and apply a salve to the wounds." Oin listed as they walked side by side to the steam. Freyja hoped that Thorin was still partially clothed or else the whole ordeal would be a bit awkward. Not that she would mind seeing him undressed.

"All cleaned up then, laddie?" Oin inquired as they approached the edge of the stream. Thorin's back was facing them and dripping with water; his behind was thankfully covered by his breeches, which he seemed to be just lacing up. As Freyja neared the dwarf king she noticed that his back and shoulders were terribly bruised, and there were a fair amount of large punctures from the white warg's wicked teeth. His back looked very similar to how Freyja's thigh after she had been bitten before they arrived in Rivendell. When he turned around to face Oin she could see that his chest and abdomen were in equally bad shape.

"Oh, Mahal.." Freyja practically whispered as she took in Thorin's battered appearance. She could feel tears beginning to sting her eyes as she remembered watching the white warg nearly tear him to pieces. He very well could have died if it hadn't been for the eagles or Gandalf's quick healing.

"The first lesson of healing is to not get emotional, lass," Oin informed her, "You will see some terrible, heartbreaking things, but you must keep your chin up and do your job. Don't let your emotions get in the way of your work."

"You've found yourself an apprentice, Oin?" Thorin finished tying off the laces of his breeches and stepped away from the water.

"Indeed I have," Oin set his bag down on the grassy bank and fished out a blanket, handing it to Freyja, "Spread that out, dear. Lay down on your back when she's finished." He instructed Thorin. Freyja had never seen Oin at work before, but he clearly knew what he was doing. The dwarrowdam followed his orders and then motioned for Thorin to lay back onto the blanket.

"Look over his wounds and make sure they are clean. It's important to make sure that there's no dirt, otherwise he might get an infection," Freyja got down on her knees beside Thorin, who was now horizontal on the blanket with his arms beneath his head. The dwarrowdam inspected each puncture and found no sign of dirt, for Thorin had surely washed himself thoroughly, "All clean?"

"Yes, all clean." Freyja answered her mentor's question. Oin had just finished preparing his supplies; a needle and thread, some spare cloth, and a small jar of salve. The old dwarf got down on his knees on the opposite side of Thorin and handed the needle with thread tied to it to Freyja. She looked down at the tiny instrument with confusion; surely he wasn't going to let her to do the stitching?

"Go ahead, lass, give it a try," Oin encouraged. Freyja looked down at Thorin with worry in her eyes, though he seemed completely trusting of the dwarrowdam, "It's just like sewing a hole in a piece of cloth."

"I was never very good at that. Couldn't I watch you do it once or twice?"

"The best way to learn is to practice." Oin answered.

"I don't want to injure him any further!"

"Freyja, I will be fine," Thorin assured her, removing a hand from behind his head to gently place it on her bent knee, "Oin will guide you through the process."

"It's alright, lass. Begin at the center of the wound and work your way outward. You'll want to keep about one eighth of an inch in between each stitch." Oin instructed. Freyja leaned down and took a deep breath before gently pushing the needle through the irritated skin surrounding one of the wounds, causing Thorin to squeeze her knee a little stronger than before. Freyja lifted her eyes from the wound to look at his face but found that his eyes were closed and his jaw was set.

"Keep going, I will be fine." Thorin repeated as if he knew Freyja's eyes were on his face. The dwarrowdam returned to the wound and followed Oin's instructions closely. She worked slowly but surely until the first wound was finally closed, and then moved on to the next. Freyja continued the process until all of the wounds on a Thorin's front were completely closed and coated in salve, which took about an hour in total.

"You did well, lass. I'll take over from here. Why don't you go wash up and get yourself something to eat?" Oin helped roll Thorin onto his front so that he could begin working on his back, which would surely take only half the time simply because Oin was much more experienced. Freyja stood up and went to the stream to wash her hands thoroughly. Thankfully she wasn't squeamish or else she would have been throwing up at the sight of so much blood. The water was crystal clear and ice cold; Freyja desparately wanted to strip out of her clothes and clean her entire body of the dried sweat and the stench of goblin, smoke, and blood, but she would have to wait until there was more privacy.

"Can I get you anything while I'm at camp?" Freyja inquired as she dried her hands on the front of her breeches. Surely Oin and Thorin were starving just as she was.

"If there's enough stew left over I wouldn't be opposed to having a bowl. Bring Thorin some as well, please." Oin answered without looking away from his work. Thorin's face was buried in his arms as the healer stitched his wounds back together.

...

Freyja left the pair and made for camp to fetch them all something to eat. Upon arriving she found that half of the dwarves were dozing off on their bedrolls and the rest were still sitting around the campfire swapping tales. The pot of stew was still hanging above the flames, though there was only enough left to fill two bowls.

"How is Thorin doing, Freyja?" Bilbo wondered, standing up from the log bench to assist her in filling the bowls with the savory smelling stew.

"He looks terrible but is in good spirits. He'll be just fine," Freyja answered, "What you did was very brave, Bilbo. I admire your courage."

"Any of you would have done the same."

"But we didn't. You did. You saved him," Freyja smiled down at the hobbit as he placed a spoon in each bowl of stew, "And to think he didn't want either of us to come on this journey."

"He would probably be dead if we hadn't." Bilbo chuckled.

...

By the time Freyja returned to the stream with the bowls of stew in hand, Oin had just finished wrapping Thorin's wounds. The entirety of his torso was practically covered in the white shreds of cloth. Oin was packing up his supplies as Freyja approached him.

"Here you are, Oin." The dwarrowdam handed him the bowl after he slung the bag over his shoulders.

"Ah, thank you, lass," Oin lifted the spoon and took a bite, "You did very well today. I am proud of you."

"Thank you, Oin. It was a pleasure to learn from you and I am looking forward to more lessons in the future. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Before Thorin goes to sleep tonight his wraps will need to be changed. If there are any signs of infection come to me at once and I'll take a look. I'm off to camp. Make sure he eats that stew." Oin instructed before taking off through the trees. Freyja turned to find Thorin still sitting on the blanket she had spread out earlier.

"I've brought you lunch. Well, I suppose it's more like an early supper now." The dwarrowdam took a seat beside Thorin on the blanket and handed him the bowl.

"You weren't gone very long," Thorin noticed, "Did you have a chance to eat?"

"No, there was only enough left for you and Oin."

"You have it, then." Thorin attempted to push the bowl back into her hands.

"Are you kidding? Oin will have my head if you don't eat." Freyja would not take it back.

"Am I going to have to force feed you? I will if I have to." Thorin lifted the spoon from the bowl and went to press it to Freyja's lips but she leaned back just in time to miss it.

"Am I going to have to go fetch Oin and have him force feed you?" The dwarrowdam countered, "He will and you know it. I bet your nephews would get a kick out of seeing you being fed like a child. They would never let you live it down."

"You make a strong argument, but I simply won't eat before you have."

"Then neither of us will eat and the stew will go to waste."

"We could share it." Thorin suggested, surprising the dwarrowdam.

"There's only one spoon, though." Freyja pointed out, looking up at the dwarf king.

"Do you truly think that I would mind using a utensil that has touched your lips when I've been wanting to taste them for myself since the beginning of this quest?" Thorin asked, meeting the dwarrowdam's gaze with his own. A red hot blush began to form on Freyja's cheeks as the dwarf king stared into her eyes. She was at a loss for words. Of course Freyja had been feeling something for Thorin for quite some time, and it was clear that he had been feeling something for her as well, but she had never expected it to come to this. She had never thought that Thorin, being the grumpy, brooding, and strict leader that he was, would say such a thing.

"I-I..I didn't realize," Freyja started. She was surprised that she had even managed to get a word out, "I didn't know.."

"Know what?" Thorin asked softly as he leaned down closer to the dwarrowdam, nearly resting his forehead against her own. Freyja was practically shaking with nerves due to his close proximity. She could feel butterflies fluttering about in her otherwise empty stomach.

"I didn't know that you felt that way about me." The words rushed out of Freyja's mouth so quickly that it was a wonder Thorin was even able to make any sense of them.

"How could I not?" Thorin answered simply, closing the distance between himself and the raven haired beauty before him. He brushed his lips against Freyja's softly and slowly, allowing her the time to pull away if she so wished, but she didn't. Thorin's lips were warm and chapped from the wind, but also soft and tasted of the sun. Freyja had been kissed once or twice in her lifetime, but never in such a loving and gentle manner, and it had never felt quite as good as it had in that moment with Thorin.

Thorin pulled away slightly, giving her a moment to collect herself. Freyja let out a deep breath before reaching up and placing her hands against Thorin's cheeks, bringing him back down to press her lips against his again with a little more force. Freyja felt him set the bowl of stew aside and wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer to his body. His large hands stayed on her waist, though she wished that he would slip them beneath the hem of her tunic and run them along her back. Thorin was a gentleman, however, and wouldn't do such a thing without permission. It was clear to him that Freyja wasn't as experienced as he was and he wouldn't push her any further than she wanted to go.

Eventually, Thorin moved away from Freyja's lips and began to place gentle kisses along her jaw, causing the dwarrowdam to giggle, for his beard was scratching against her skin. Freyja dug her hands into Thorin's dark, silver streaked mane of hair and pulled his head back gently so that she could meet his lips with hers in another sweet kiss. Their lips moved together slowly but passionately and Freyja never wanted to stop, but her stomach soon began to growl, causing Thorin to pull away and chuckle.

"You need to eat, ghivashel," Thorin reached for the forgotten bowl of stew, "There will be plenty of time for this later on."

"I'm not hungry for stew, you silly old dwarf," Freyja waggled her eyebrows at Thorin, who looked as if he was about to stuff the spoon full of stew into her mouth if she said another word, "I'm hungry for you."

"Mahal, I've created a monster."

...

A few hours later the sun was beginnng to set and each member of the company had a full belly and a clean body after bathing in the stream, with the exception of Freyja. Most of the dwarves had gone as a group to bathe but Freyja, being a woman, didn't exactly feel that it was appropriate to be stripping down naked with a group of men. She had opted to wait until they had finished to go wash up. The dwarrowdam was gathering a towel and some fresh clothing when Thorin's voice suddenly interrupted her, "Where do you think you're going?"

"To take a bath." Freyja brushed past the dwarf king with a smirk on her face.

"Not by yourself."

"Oh? Are you going to join me, then?" Freyja stopped and turned around, raising an eyebrow at him.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Thorin stepped forward, "The sun is setting and it wouldn't be safe for you to go alone. Someone needs to accompany you."

"I would like to volunteer!" Kili stood up from the log he was sitting on.

"Frankly, I don't trust any of you to not to take a peek at me. Especially your nephews." Freyja admitted.

"You have no choice," Thorin said sternly, not budging on the matter, "Sit down, Kili."

"Fine, then you come with me." Freyja turned on her heel and made her way through the trees toward the stream. She could hear Thorin behind her as they neared the running water. In truth, Freyja wasn't terribly worried about the dwarf king taking a peek at her while she bathed. She knew he would be a perfect gentleman, but it irritated her to no end that he felt that she needed to be watched over. She was perfectly capable of defending herself, even completely naked.

"Are you angry?" Thorin wondered when they reached the bank.

"Did you make a fuss about this because you wanted an excuse to get me alone or because you truly think I need to be guarded like some fragile gem?" Freyja asked as she plopped the towel and pile of clothing onto the grass before turning to face him.

"If I wanted a moment alone with you I wouldn't need to make up an excuse to do so," Thorin said matter-of-factly, "It is getting late and we don't know what could be lurking in the forest. It wouldn't be safe for any of us to be out here alone."

"So you didn't want to come along so you could have your way with me up against a tree, then?"

"If I was going to 'have my way with you,' it would be on a bed of silk sheets, not against the rough bark of a tree." Thorin told her without hesitation. Freyja could feel her whole body begin to blush. She wasn't quite sure if she was ready for that yet even though she joked about it. Freyja had been kissed before, yes, but never anything more. Though if she was going to go any further, she would want to do it with Thorin.

"That's a pity. You have me all to yourself out here and who knows when we'll have a proper bed."

"Don't tempt me." Thorin said with a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes. The dwarf king turned his back to the dwarrowdam and went to lean against a tree, giving her enough privacy to clean herself up without having to worry about being watched.

Freyja stripped out of her filthy clothes and stepped into the icy cold water of the stream. She worked quickly to scrub the dirt and grime off of her body and out of her hair; if she stayed in the water too long she'd surely freeze. When Freyja no longer smelled of sweat and smoke she jumped out of the water and snatched the towel up so she could dry the freezing water out of her hair and off of her skin, and then pulled on her fresh set of clothing, keeping her eyes on Thorin's back the entire time. As she expected, he had been ever the gentleman and hadn't even taken a glance over his shoulder.

"All done." Freyja called as she approached Thorin with her discarded clothing and wet towel in her arms. The dwarf king peeled himself away from the tree and turned to face her. His lips turned upward slightly at seeing Freyja with her hair in a wet, tangled mess.

"Let's get back to camp before you freeze to death, little mountain troll."

The moon was in the process of replacing the sun when Freyja and Thorin arrived at camp, and the dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo had already tucked themselves into bed for the evening. Some of them were snoring and others were simply gazing up at the stars that were appearing one by one in the darkening sky. The crackling fire in the center of the camp was growing dimmer, but it still provided enough light to cast a soft glow.

Freyja led Thorin to an available bedroll and sat him down, promptly going to fetch new wraps for his wounds as he went to work removing the old ones. When Freyja returned he had already discarded them. Freyja plopped down on the bedroll before him and inspected his newly stitched wounds thoroughly. They were already beginning to look better, though they still had a ways to go before they were completely healed.

"How do they feel?" Freyja asked in a hush tone as to not wake those who were asleep. She began to apply Oin's salve to each individual wound.

"Better, though they don't look that way." Thorin watched Freyja work, his eyes beginning to fall shut. It had been a long, long day and he was more than ready to sleep, but he wanted to spend more time with Freyja. Peaceful, carefree days were rare on their quest, and he didn't want this one to end just yet. Before he knew it, Freyja had finished applying the salve to both his front and back and was just about done wrapping him up.

"You were dozing off on me, old man. Get to sleep." Freyja instructed, moving to get up and put away Oin's supplies, but Thorin grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back down.

"Stay with me a while longer."

"You are tired, Th-,"

"Please."

Freyja put the supplies aside and allowed Thorin to pull her into a laying position on the bedroll. She laid on her side facing toward the dying camp fire as Thorin placed a blanket overtop of them. He then laid down behind her and wrapped a strong arm around her, pulling her body flush against his chest. Freyja had been freezing just moments ago, but she was already beginning to feel warm beneath the blanket and against the dwarf king's body.

Thorin buried his sharp nose into Freyja's drying hair. The dwarrowdam could feel his hot breath against the back of her neck; the sensation sent a shiver down her spine. She could hardly believe the day's events. Thorin had kissed her, and now she was lying in his arms beneath the stars. Freyja didn't know when another perfect day like this would come along, or if one would come again at all, so she simply closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of being held by her king. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard Thorin whisper drowsily into her ear, "Goodnight, ghivashel."

Chapter Text

When Freyja woke the fire at the center of camp had died completely but the sun had not yet risen over the horizon. The dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo were still fast asleep on their bedrolls, snoring away. It was then that she remembered where she was; in Thorin's arms.

The dwarrowdam was no longer facing away from him, but facing toward him with one of her legs intertwined with his. Her head was lying on Thorin's chest; her face against his neck and his in her hair. Freyja could feel his fingers slowly and gently combing through the tangled ends of her raven locks. He was awake as well.

"Good morning," Thorin murmered quietly, greeting the beautiful, sleepy dwarrowdam in his arms. Freyja answered with a drowsy groan. She wanted to sleep a few more hours but the sky was beginning to lighten and it would soon be time to hit the road once again, "Are you always this grumpy in the morning?"

"Haven't we already established that I am a troll? Of course I'm always grumpy in the morning," Freyja muttered against the skin of Thorin's neck. The dwarrowdam lifted her head from his chest, propping herself up on an elbow so she could look down at him, "Though I'm feeling rather well rested this morning."

"Why might that be?" Thorin inquired, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he grinned up at her.

"Well, I had an excellent pillow last night. It was warm, soft, and conformed to my body wonderfully."

"Soft? Oh, my lady, I am quite the opposite."

"Thorin Oakenshield!" Freyja playfully slapped at his chest, her jaw hanging open in shock, "I never thought I'd ever hear such filthy words come from your mouth. Your nephews are rubbing off on you, I see."

"If you aren't careful, little mountain troll, you'll wake them up." Thorin silenced the giggling dwarrowdam with a gentle kiss. Their lips moved together slowly and drowsily as their companions snored around them. The sun was beginning to climb up and over the horizon, spilling beautiful orange light through the trees and over the company's camp, and soon caused the rest of the dwarves to stir. It would be time to pack up and get back on the road soon, for Azog and his orcs had had a day to resume their hunt for Thorin and would surely catch up.

The thought scared Freyja. Azog had nearly succeeded in killing Thorin once and it was very clear that he would not give up until the job was done. For the rest of the journey they would be tailed by Azog and his pack of orcs, and eventually it would come to a fight. Freyja knew it, and she was sure that Thorin did as well. Lost in her thoughts, Freyja pulled away from the dwarf king's lips and looked away. Tears began to sting her eyes.

Freyja had fallen helplessly in love with the leader of the company, though she was beginning to wish she hadn't. If the orcs couldn't manage to take Thorin down, the dragon very well would, along with her and the rest of the company. Sometimes she wished that she was at home in Ered Luin, none the wiser about Thorin and his companions.

"Where have you gone off to, ghivashel?" Thorin murmered, stroking Freyja's unruly hair. He was looking up at her lovingly, adoringly, but she couldn't meet his eyes. What would she do if she lost Thorin? How would she ever go on without the one love of her life? The pain would be unbearable and perhaps worse than that of when her father finally passed.

"Nowhere. I'm going to start packing up." Freyja moved up and out of the bedroll, causing Thorin's hand to fall away. He could see that there was something going on inside her head, but had no time to ask before she scooped up the medical supplies that had been long forgotten last night and made for Oin's bedroll.

The rest of the company was up and moving a moment later, and the camp was packed up by the time the sun had completely risen. Before they left, Oin briefly checked Thorin's wounds and gave Freyja his approval, for they were well on their way to healing up. The dwarrowdam simply nodded at her mentor and fell into line next to Bilbo as the company began their journey once more.

...

The day had been quiet and peaceful, much to Freyja's surprise. The company was in high spirits, especially Fili and Kili, though they were always the happiest of the bunch. The brothers joked with Freyja every so often only to receive a wary smile in return. The dwarrowdam was not in a much of a joking mood, so she made small talk with the company's resident burglar instead. Bilbo was a quiet, kind, and polite soul, and Freyja found speaking with him refreshing. She caught Thorin looking back at her a few times throughout the day, but he made no effort to talk with her, for he was busy leading the company. He intended to do so when they would make camp that evening.

As the sun was beginning to set, an oh so familiar howl rang out, causing the company to come to an abrupt halt. A shiver ran down Freyja's spine as recognized the sound. Wargs.

"I knew it was foolish for us to sit around for so long yesterday," Bilbo muttered low enough so that only Freyja could hear him, "They were bound to catch up eventually, especially since we have no ponies."

"Bilbo," Thorin called the the back of the group where the hobbit and the dwarrowdam stood shoulder to shoulder, "Climb up there and tell us if you see anything."

With a sigh, Bilbo climbed up the steep hill and disappeared for a moment. The company awaited his return in silence, for they didn't want to give their position away. Bilbo eventually appeared over the hilltop and slid back down to inform Thorin of what he saw. The orcs were upon them, though they hadn't seen Bilbo and were still unaware of the company's exact location, "We must hide," Gandalf decided, "I know of a place nearby that will provide us cover for the night."

The entire company seemed to be in agreement. It would be safer to hide and let the orcs pass than it would be to fight them. The dwarves and Bilbo once again followed their wizard through the trees at a steady run. However, their heavy footsteps against the forest floor gave them away. The orcs and the wargs' barking neared.

The company broke through the trees into a clearing where a quaint house and barn sat. Freyja chanced a glance over her shoulder and found that the orcs were no longer pursuing them, but a large, bear like creature had taken their place, "Run!"

Freyja's desperate cry caused Thorin and the rest of the group to look over their shoulders as well. Upon seeing the beast, Gandalf ordered the company to get inside of the house quickly. By the time the dwarves had gotten the large, heavy wooden doors open and had piled inside, the beast was upon them. The dwarves shoved the doors shut, forcing the bear's drooling jaws and snout back outside. Only after the doors were barred did they relax.

"What in the name of Mahal was that thing?!" Dwalin demanded as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

"That was our host," Gandalf answered, causing everyone a bit of confusion. A bear lived in the very house they stood in? "He is a shapeshifter. Get some rest. You will be safe here tonight...I hope."

...

"I miss Bag End." Bilbo admitted from across the dining table. Bombur had prepared more stew for supper and the majority of the company was seated around their mysterious host's table, eating and making small talk.

"I miss Ered Luin," Freyja answers. Her home had been quiet and lonely, but much less dangerous then the quest had been thus far, "I miss my barn, my nightly baths with a tankard of ale, and I miss Fritz. I wonder where that pony went off to."

"I miss my armchair, my books, my garden...I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever see them again." Bilbo finished off his stew and pushed the bowl away.

"You will see them again," Freyja assured the hobbit, "Perhaps I will pay you a visit in Bag End when this is all over. You had quite the lovely home, Bilbo."

"As long as you don't completely clear out my cupboard." Bilbo joked, referring to the company's meeting that had occurred what felt like ages ago. Freyja grinned as she continued to eat her supper. One by one the dwarves finished eating and went off in search of a comfortable place to rest their heads for the night. Their host's home was rather large on the inside, so there were plenty of nooks and pieces of furniture for them all.

Freyja rose from the table, leaving Dwalin, Thorin, and his nephews to finish eating as she explored the home. To the side of the building a long, enclosed hallway filled with stalls for horses led to the conjoined barn. Freyja strolled through the hall, stopping at every stall to pat the ponies and horses that were enclosed inside of them.

As she was stroking the nose of a particularly large black and white paint horse, a hand rested on her shoulder, causing her to jump. She knew it was Thorin, though she hadn't even heard him approach.

"May I speak with you?" He asked as Freyja turned to face him. She could see concern in his tired blue eyes. When the dwarrowdam nodded, Thorin led her further down the hall and into the hay filled barn. Silver moonlight came streaming through the skylights on the ceiling of the barn, illuminating the large room. Seeing the dwarf king in such light made Freyja want to reach out and embrace him, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

"What happened this morning?" Thorin was the first to break the silence, as expected. He had noticed, then.

"I'm afraid, Thorin." Freyja answered, her voice barely audible.

"Afraid of what?" He asked, his large, calloused hands cupped her cheeks and gently brought her face upwards so that their eyes could meet, "What is it, amrâlimê?"

Amrâlimê. Hearing Thorin call her his one true love caused Freyja's heart to swell, but she couldn't shake the feeling of fear deep inside of herself.

"I joined your company to help you take back our homeland. I didn't come here looking for friendship, or love, but that's what I have found in you and the rest of the company," Freyja started, her own hands coming up to cover Thorin's, "After facing the trolls, and the goblins, and after watching Azog nearly kill you, I find myself scared to lose you."

"I warned you that this quest would be dangerous."

"Yes, and I accepted that, but that was before this," Freyja motioned between herself and the dwarf king, "I don't know what I'd do if you were to die, which could very well happen before this quest is done."

"I will be alright, Freyja. I have endured through much worse than this journey, and I will continue to do so," Thorin assured the dwarrowdam, pulling her into a tight, warm embrace, "You cannot worry about the future or dwell on the past. You must enjoy the present."

Freyja couldn't contain the tears any longer. The large, wet droplets spilled down her cheeks, staining the front of Thorin's royal blue tunic. His large hands stroked up and down her trembling back as she quietly sobbed into his chest. Thorin whispered soothing words into her ear as he held her until she finally began to calm. The dwarrowdam pulled back slightly and rubbed the wet path the tears had left away with the back of her hands, and then apologized for soaking the dwarf king's tunic. He answered with a kiss on the top of her head.

"Now, stop worrying for me, little mountain troll. If anything, I should be worrying for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Freyja met Thorin's eyes with her own and found that familiar sparkle of playfulness, "I can take you on. Right here, right now."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise. You think Azog was bad? Just wait until I get ahold of you." Freyja backed out of Thorin's arms and got into a ready position, her fists raised.

"If you cannot beat me with a sword, what makes you think you can beat me with fists alone?" Thorin inquired, his lips turning upward into a grin as he watched the dwarrowdam bounce on the balls of her feet.

Freyja answered by lunging forward and throwing the entirety of her weight at Thorin, hoping to knock him off balance. The dwarf king was practically a mountain on his own, however, and her surprise attack hadn't even moved him. Thorin scooped her up into his arms and pinned her roughly against the barn wall; her arms wrapping around his neck and her legs around his waist, not even attempting to struggle out of his grasp.

Thorin's hands rested beneath her thighs, though having his chest pressed against hers was quite enough to hold her up, "Given up already?" He teased, his lips nearly touching the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Freyja arched her back, causing her chest to push harder against Thorin's. The dwarf king buried his face in her neck and planted hot kisses slowly down the sensitive flesh. Freyja let out a gasp at the new feeling and squeezed her thighs harder around his narrow waist. She let her head fall back completely against the wall of the barn, enjoying the sensation of Thorin's beard scratching down her neck.

"Thorin.." Freyja managed to moan out when he reached her collar bone.

"Hmm?" He answered as he nipped at the prominent ridge.

"Y-you can unbutton it," She told him, referring to the tunic that was standing in the way of his lips and the rest of her chest. Though he was tempted to do as she said, Thorin pulled his lips away from her collar bone and placed them against her own soft, open lips. The kiss she gave him was not slow and sweet as they had been in the past; it was hot, forceful, and telling him that she wanted more. It took all of his willpower to release her lips and let her down from the wall gently, "You don't want to?"

"I do, and I will, but not now," He told her as she unwound her legs from his waist. Her arms remained locked around his neck, however. Freyja's lips were red and swollen from his kisses, and her neck matched in color due to his rough whiskers, "You are tired and still upset. There will be time for this in the future."

"But you said we needed to enjoy the present." Freyja countered playfully raising an eyebrow at him. Thorin smiled down at the dwarrowdam and rested his forehead against hers.

"Be patient, amrâlimê. Now, let's find a place to rest for the night."

Chapter Text

"Amrâlimê, hmm?" Freyja propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Thorin. The pair had found a large blanket and had spread it out over a pile of soft hay in the barn; it would make a comfortable bed for the night and beat sleeping on the cold hard ground. The rest of the company had found places to sleep in the house, leaving Freyja and Thorin alone.

"I was under the impression that you knew Khuzdul." Thorin raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her. Khuzdul was the language of the dwarves, so of course Freyja knew it, though she didn't use it often.

"I do, but I was surprised to hear that name." She admitted shyly.

"You don't like it?"

"I do," Freyja repeated, "I just wasn't expecting to hear you call me that. Ever. I can hardly believe it even happened."

"Why is it so hard to believe? I told you just yesterday how I feel for you." Thorin placed a hand on the small of her back, circling his thumb over the soft fabric of the tunic she was wearing.

"You didn't really tell me, you showed me."

"Do you want me to tell you?"

"I guess I just want to know what exactly is happening."

"That night in Bag End, when I saw you, I felt something that I had never felt before in all my years," Thorin started, "You were more beautiful than any gem I had ever laid eyes on while living in Erebor at first glance, but then I learned that there was more to you than just your looks. You are intelligent, determined, headstrong, and foolishly stubborn at times. You are a good friend to my nephews, Bilbo, and the rest of us, and you've made me laugh more in these past weeks than I have since being exiled from Erebor."

"Foolishly stubborn?" Freyja asked after he had finished.

"Is that the only thing you heard?"

"I guess saying that I'm more beautiful than a gem makes up for it," Freyja leaned down and placed a kiss upon the dwarf king's lips, "Though I find that hard to believe as well."

"When I have you dressed in silk gowns and adorned with jewels once we retake Erebor, perhaps you will begin to believe it," Thorin's lips brushed against Freyja's as he spoke, "Though I think you'd be most beautiful in nothing."

"What are you saying, Thorin Oakenshield?"

"I have nothing to promise you right now. I do not know if our quest will end in success or failure, but when and if we manage to take back our homeland, I intend to court you. If you will allow me the pleasure."

"Don't you want someone more...royal?" Freyja wondered, "You are going to be a king, Thorin."

"And as a king I am allowed to court whomever I wish."

"But-,"

"Hush," Thorin ordered sternly, "I've had enough of this. Stop thinking that you aren't worthy enough to be mine, because I assure you that it is the other way around."

"Are you absolutely sure that you wouldn't rather sow your wild, royal oats instead of settling down with a horse-shoer from Ered Luin?"

"I did quite enough of that when I was a young prince," Thorin admitted. Freyja wasn't surprised to hear that, for Thorin was surely quite the dashing young dwarf when he lived in Erebor. She couldn't help but feel a tad jealous even though she hadn't even known Thorin back then, and the ladies that Thorin had once laid with were probably all old and married off by now, "I figured that since I was to be king I would probably be coerced into wedding some painfully boring and proper dam from the Iron Hills, so I had a bit of fun while I could. I'm sure you have had a gentleman caller or two, being as beautiful as you are. The question is, why would you want to settle down with an old man like me?"

Freyja had to have known that Thorin would be more experienced than her in that aspect, but she couldn't help but to feel nervous at the question. He wouldn't want a blushing virgin, would he? He'd want someone with experience, someone who knew what they were doing and how to please him, and Freyja did not fit that description.

"Well, I...I've had a couple of dwarves ask to court me in the past, and I've even shared a kiss or two with a couple of them, but never anything more than that, if I'm honest," Freyja admitted, laying down on her back beside Thorin and looking up at the high ceiling of the barn, "It never felt right to me. None of them felt like they could possibly be my One, so I ended things before they went too far."

"I see," Thorin responded quietly, finally understanding why she had been so nervous whenever things began to heat up between them. She had been trembling in his arms just moments ago when he had had her pinned against the wall. The dwarf king felt foolish. Here he was, talking about sowing his past affairs in the company of his One, surely making her feel even more nervous and certainly inadequate, "I assume you think me a pig now."

"Oh, no. I can't and won't judge you for your past." Freyja assured him.

"I was young and stupid," Thorin explained, "I haven't taken a lover since being exiled from Erebor; looking after my family was my only priority after that. I had given up trying to find my One, and then I found her in the most unexpected place."

"You think I am your One?"

"It is not a matter of thinking. It's a matter of knowing. Don't you feel it, too?"

"I do. I've felt it since I first saw you."

"Then say yes," Thorin rolled onto an elbow and gazed down into Freyja's eyes. She was looking up at him with sparkling eyes and a warm smile, "Say you'll let me court you once we've retaken Erebor. Please, amrâlimê."

"Yes," Freyja answered, reaching up to cup Thorin's strong, bearded jaw. She gently pulled him down and met his lips with her own, "I suppose this means I'm staying in Erebor, then."

"I couldn't bear it if you left. I'd have to give Fili the crown and follow you to Ered Luin."

"I've had enough traveling for one lifetime. I will stay."

"You will love it, Freyja. Everything will be available to you; the stables, the forges, the armory, whatever you'd like," Thorin told her, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, "While I am meeting with the council or filling out paperwork during the day you will be free to do anything you please, whether it be going for a ride, visiting with our friends, or apprenticing with Oin, and at night I will come home to you."

"And what will we do then?" Freyja teased, brushing her lips against his, luring him into another sweet kiss.

"Whatever you want," Thorin whispered, taking her plump bottom lip between his teeth and nipping gently, "We can have dinner beside the fire, share a hot bath, lounge in bed, anything."

"Lounge in bed, you say? Would that include other activities?"

"Whatever my queen wants." Thorin repeats. The dwarf king placed a knee between Freyja's legs, spreading them to make room for his hips. Feeling more bold than ever before, Freyja wrapped her newly spread legs around Thorin and urged him closer. Their warm bodies came together and then their lips. Though they were still fully clothed, the dwarrowdam could feel every part of his body; especially something hardening beneath the front of his trousers, which happened to be against her thigh.

When Thorin's lips left hers to run along her jaw, Freyja placed her hands beneath the back of his tunic and inched it upward to reveal his lower back, though most of it was hidden beneath Oin's wraps still. She ran her fingers along what little skin wasn't covered and found that it was absolutely radiating heat.

Thorin continued downward and left a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses along the pale skin of Freyja's neck, though he was careful not to leave any marks. The dwarrowdam was absolutely writhing beneath the weight of his body, which made it that much harder for him to maintain his control. Her nails were digging into the skin of his lower back, creating a feeling of pain and pleasure simultaneously.

When Freyja's trembling hands disappeared from his back and moved to the front of his trousers, Thorin immediately stopped his ministrations and grabbed her wrists in one large hand. She looked up at him, wide eyed, as if she had just been caught trying to sneak a bite of dessert before supper, "What do you think you are doing, ghivashel?"

"You said whatever I want."

"And what is it that you want, exactly?"

"Well, I think that it's pretty clear, is it not?" Freyja answered as she struggled to escape his vice like grasp, "Don't you want it, Thorin?"

"I think that is pretty clear as well," He managed to say while Freyja rubbed her thigh against the front of his trousers, "This isn't the right time or place," He groaned, "The company is just down the hall."

"They're asleep, Thorin. I can hear them snoring from here."

"And they will be able to hear me taking you from there, will they not?" Thorin countered, his words causing a hot, red blush to form on her cheeks. He released her wrists; she placed her hands on his shoulders, "We are nearly half way to Erebor. There will be-,"

"Plenty of time for this in the future. I know, I know." Freyja finished for him, placing a soft kiss against his lips. Thorin's arms wrapped around the dwarrowdam's waist as he rolled onto his side, pulling her body flush against his. She could feel that he was still aroused, and she was as well, but Thorin was far too stubborn to do anything about it.

Tempted as Thorin was to give into her wishes, Freyja had never taken a lover, and he would not simply rut into her like an animal in a barn with the company just down the hall. He would wait until they reached Erebor where he could take his time with her and she would be comfortable.

"Goodnight, Thorin." Freyja's voice shook the dwarf king out of his thoughts.

"Goodnight, amrâlimê." He answered, placing a kiss on the top of her head. In a matter of moments the dwarrowdam had fallen into a peaceful slumber against his chest, her breathing deep and even. Only then did Thorin allow himself to fall asleep as well.

Chapter Text

Upon waking the next morning, the company found that their host was no longer a ferocious, blood thirsty bear, but a man that stood taller than even Gandalf. His name was Beorn and he was a shapeshifter; a rare find in Middle Earth. Much to everyone's surprise, Beorn allowed the company to stay for breakfast, though it was clear that he was a bit unhappy with their presence.

As the company dug into their breakfast, Bilbo made small talk with their host, asking him if there were any others like him. Beorn informed the hobbit that he was indeed the last of his kind, for the orcs had enslaved and killed the majority of his species for sport. Beorn still had metal cuffs around his wrists from the time he spent imprisoned by the creatures.

After finishing breakfast, Beorn informed the company that he hated dwarves, for they were selfish, greedy beings. Luckily, the shapeshifter hated orcs even more, so he allowed them to take as many ponies and supplies as they needed. Beorn had managed to put quite a dent in Azog's pack of orcs and had caused them to retreat, so the company would have a bit of a head start.

Freyja saddled the ponies as the rest of the dwarves gathered enough food to last them until they reached the mountain. She was absolutely delighted in the fact that she would get to ride again, though she still found herself missing Fritz. The black and white painted ponies were beautiful, though, and would serve the company well. One by one the dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo entered the barn and took a pony by the reigns, leading them outside and mounting them. Freyja had to give Bilbo a leg up, for he still struggled to get atop the pony at his short height, though he seemed much more confident in the saddle than he had once been.

"I hope you will continue to practice with me even now that we have ponies again, lass." Oin said as their ponies walked alongside one another.

"Of course I will, Oin." Freyja assured the healer with a warm smile. Satisfied with her answer, Oin gave her a curt nod of the head and trotted forward to ride beside his brother, Gloin. Freyja closed her eyes and lifted her chin, enjoying the feeling of the sun shining down on her and warming her face as her body swayed with her pony's gait. The only sounds to be heard was the whistling of the wind, the ponies' hooves on the ground, and the chatter between members of the company.

As she rode by herself at the rear of the group, Freyja remembered the night before. She had spent the entire night wrapped in Thorin's arms, her legs entangled with his and her face against his chest. It had been blissful and felt...right. The dwarrowdam opened her eyes and let them fall onto Thorin's back at the front of the company. His hips moved back and forth in rhythm with the pony's steps; she bit her lip as she remembered how those hips had felt between her thighs last night.

"You look absolutely radiant this morning, if I do say so myself." A familiar voice shook her out of her thoughts. Freyja turned to find the Fili and Kili had appeared on either side of her.

"Uncle must have shown her a good time last night. She looks very well rested." Kili added.

"No, I don't think so," Fili countered, "I didn't hear any sighs or moans of pleasure coming from down the hallway, so he couldn't have done a very good job."

"Fili, what would you know about showing a girl a good time?"

"You forget that I am older than you, Kili. I've had plenty of experience with the opposite sex."

"Only by a couple of years, and no you have not. We've been inseparable our whole lives and I know very well that women hardly ever speak to you."

"That's during the day, brother. At night I have them practically screaming as I-,"

"That's quite enough, Fili, thank you." Freyja interrupted before he went into too much detail. She had no doubt that the eldest prince had had his fair share of encounters with young dwarrowdams, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear all about it.

"Tell us then, Freyja," Kili leaned over and lowered his voice, "Did you have a 'roll in the hay' with our uncle last night?"

"That's no business of yours." Freyja answered sternly, though her cheeks began to blush. She regretted not leaving the brothers' saddles loosely cinched so that they would fall on their arses.

"The blush on your cheeks tells us that something did indeed happen, though knowing how traditional Thorin is, he likely didn't allow things to go too far. Am I wrong?" Fili asked. When Freyja nodded silently he continued, "He'll want to court you or perhaps even marry you first before he does that. He cares about you too much to simply have his way with you like you're some common dam."

"Yes, he mentioned that last night, though I think he was just being cautious because you all were just down the hall."

"Please, a man doesn't care who hears when he's pleasuring his lady," Kili smirked at the dwarrowdam, "In fact, a man would prefer that everyone hears so that they know who she belongs to."

"Kili, you haven't even kissed a woman." Fili chuckled with the shake of his blonde head.

"I have too and you know it."

"Boys!" Freyja silenced the bickering brothers, drawing the attention of the rest of the company to the back of the group. Even Thorin turned in his saddle to see what was going on, "Stop arguing before your uncle comes back here and barks at us all."

"Let's settle this once and for all, shall we?" Fili suggested, causing both Freyja and Kili to raise an eyebrow in curiosity, "We each kiss you, Freyja, and you decide who is more experienced. Though I know it will be me."

"Fili!" Thorin growled from the front of the group, "Leave her alone. Freyja is spoken for and well you know it."

"Now you've done it." Kili chuckled.

"The same goes for you, Kili!" Thorin added.

"I wasn't even doing anything wrong!" Kili argued, though Thorin had already turned around in his saddle and continued speaking with Dwalin.

"You are most welcome, Freyja." Fili whispered to the blushing dwarrowdam.

"For what?"

"Perhaps now that he is feeling more protective Thorin will finally 'show you a good time' as Kili called it."

...

The company was once again pony-less and no longer had their wizard to look out for them. Upon reaching a thick, dark line of trees, Gandalf demanded that the ponies be released. He then took off on his horse at a gallop, assuring the company that he would be back as soon as he could, and left the dwarves and Bilbo alone.

The forest was thick with trees that looked dead, as if there was indeed a sickness falling over them as Radagast had said all that time ago. Perhaps the brown wizard hadn't been crazy after all, Freyja thought to herself as the company delved into the dark forest.

"Stay close to me." Thorin ordered lowly, causing Freyja to fall in line directly behind him with Dwalin at her back. The dwarf king knew that something dark and dangerous was lurking in those woods; he could practically feel eyes on him as he led his company through the thick forest.

As they continued onward, Freyja began to feel strangely. It felt like time was stretching, as if they had been wandering the woods for hours and hours when it had only been minutes. Or had it been? She no longer knew.

The rest of the company began to experience similar things. Bofur had picked up a discarded water skin and muttered, "Hey, this is exactly like mine. There are dwarves here!"

"That's because it is yours, Bofur," Bilbo informed the hat-wearing dwarf, "We are going in circles."

"No," Thorin growled, "This is the right way."

Not convinced, Bilbo began to climb up the nearest tree until he disappeared from the company's view. When he broke through the top of the treeline he took a deep breath of the fresh air and felt the cloudiness begin to vanish from his mind. Off in the distance there was Erebor, still standing alone and tall, waiting for their arrival. Now knowing the proper direction that they needed to go, Bilbo ducked down through the leaves again and began to descend until he slipped and fell with a shout.

Instead of splattering against the forest floor, Bilbo landed in something soft and pliable, though when he tried to get up, he found himself completely stuck. When a giant, eight-legged creature descended on him he finally realized that he was caught in a web. Just in time, Bilbo managed to free his arm and his sword, and pierced the terrifying arachnid through the abdomen.

Upon freeing himself, the hobbit noticed that none of the company members were in sight. Had they gone off without him, or had they too been captured by spider webs? Hoping to avoid being spotted by another spider, Bilbo slipped a small, golden ring around his finger and vanished into thin air, becoming completely invisible. He had found the piece of jewelry at the bottom of Goblin Town, where he had narrowly escaped from Gollum. Bilbo had not told anyone, not even Gandalf, about his newfound treasure in fear that it would be taken from him. It was a tool that had been coming in handy rather often.

Bilbo finally found the company. Each of them was wrapped in the milky white spider silk and were being watched closely by a number of arachnids. Using his invisibility to his advantage, Bilbo knocked his sword against a tree branch covered in webs, knowing that the vibration would cause the spiders to come searching for whatever it was that caused it. Bilbo watched as the spiders took off, leaving the company for him to rescue.

Bilbo cut the dwarves free just in time for the spiders to return. The company armed themselves and fought against the massive group of oversized arachnids. Freyja was terrified of regular spiders as it was, so facing such large ones was like a nightmare come true. The spiders continued to descend from the trees no matter how many the company killed, when suddenly something else began to emerge from the trees as well. Elves had come to help.

The elves and dwarves fought side by side until each and every spider was curled up dead on the forest floor. One particular red-haired elf maiden had saved Kili's life with a well-placed dagger throw, and the young prince did not tear his dark eyes away from her even as the elves began to round the dwarves up like prisoners. He was absolutely taken with her.

These elves were different than those who lived in Rivendell. Elrond's people had been kind, gentle, and welcoming of Thorin and his company, but these ones were quite the opposite. These elves were cold and dark much like the forest itself.

"Disarm them," A tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed elf ordered. It was clear that he was of some importance, because the warriors obeyed his orders without argument. The elves went to work disarming each of the dwarves. The red-haired female spent a particularly long while digging Fili's expansive dagger collection out of his coat, trousers, and boots. Freyja noticed that Kili was still watching her.

Thorin stepped protectively in front of his dwarrowdam, preparing to fight even without Orcrist if he had to. The blonde elf had snatched the blade from him and inspected it closely, "This was made by elves. My ancestors. Where did you get it?"

"It was given to me." Thorin spat, glaring up at the blonde elf. Their blue eyes met as they exchanged looks of hatred.

"A thief and a liar," The elf decided, sheathing the sword in his own belt. Thorin would likely never see the blade again, "Lock them up. My father will want to speak with this one."

The elves seized the dwarves and dragged them through the trees until they reached a bridge that crossed over a river. On the other side was a gate that led into a magnificent palace that seemed to be part of the forest itself. Upon entering said palace, the blonde elf continued forward with Thorin as the guards forced the rest of the company down a winding set of stairs to some prison cells. Freyja was tossed into a cell by herself. She could hear Kili speaking with someone in the distance.

"Aren't you going to search me? I could have anything down these trousers."

"Or nothing." A feminine voice answered. Freyja watched as the red-haired female elf passed in front of her cell and ascended the stairs, surely following after the blonde elf that had taken Thorin. Freyja did not know what would become of the dwarf king. It was clear that he had been taken to answer to whomever was in charge, but would he return? Only time would tell.

Chapter Text

Some time later Freyja's cell door swung open and Thorin was roughly pushed inside. She couldn't know how long he'd been gone, for there was no way to tell time from within the cold, dark hole. Before Freyja could speak a word to the dwarf king the rest of the dwarves pressed their faces against the bars of their own cell doors and began firing questions at him.

"What happened?" Dwalin demanded to know.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin inquired more calmly than his brother.

"He did," Thorin answered darkly, "I told him he could go ishkh khakfe andu null. Him and all his kin!"

Some of the dwarves cheered, though Freyja cringed at hearing such harsh, dirty words come from Thorin's mouth. He had insulted the king, Thranduil, greatly and it would be unlikely that he'd ever let the company go now.

"Well, that's that then," Balin turned away from the cell door, "The deal was our only hope."

"No, not our only hope." Thorin slid down the cell wall until he was seated on the stone floor beside Freyja.

"What do you mean?" She wondered. There was no way to escape. The cells doors were sturdy and there were no windows to climb out of. Thorin had blown their one chance of leaving Mirkwood all because he couldn't control his temper.

"Bilbo was not there when the elves captured us. He is still out there somewhere."

"What did Thranduil offer you?"

"He wanted his precious white gems from the mountain in return for freeing us." Thorin answered. To Freyja it seemed foolish that he refused such a bargain. A few gems for freedom? Erebor had plenty of jewels and would do just fine without a handful of white ones.

"Why did you refuse?"

"Thranduil offered us no help after Smaug's attack. He left us there to die. He deserves nothing from us." Thorin growled with anger in his eyes.

"Perhaps you are right, but now we will rot in these cells and Erebor may never be retaken. You are counting on Bilbo to sneak past dozens of guards, steal the keys, and lead us out of here all without being spotted."

"He is the master burglar for a reason."

"And what if he never comes? What if he's been eaten by one of those disgusting spiders, or if he gets caught by the guards? What will save us then?" Freyja knew that she was testing his patience but no longer cared. Thorin had been foolish and she would not let him get away with it.

"I would suggest you consider what comes out of your mouth next." Thorin answered calmly but in a stern tone. The quiet before the storm, Freyja thought.

"You are going to be a king, Thorin. You cannot let your stupid pride get in the way of what is best for your people!" Freyja nearly shouted, her voice echoing off the walls of the stone cell. The rest of the company had ceased their chatter to listen in on their conversation.

"What would you have done, since you seem to think that you know what is best for this company?!" Thorin demanded.

"I would have said yes! I would have put the past aside and given him the damn gems because our freedom is more important than a few sparkling trinkets and your pride combined!"

"I can see that I've been far too lenient with-,"

"You asked me what I would do, so you will keep your mouth shut until I have finished speaking," Freyja could hear the dwarves gasp, "When we retake Erebor we will need allies. We will need friends to help rebuild, to trade with, and to go to in times of trouble. This was your chance to make things right with the elves, but you did not. You made them even more of an enemy than they were to begin with. When and if we escape from this place, just know that Thranduil will not even so much as consider giving us aid when we need it. I hope you are happy with your decision."

Freyja turned on Thorin and retreated to the back of the cell where the light from the hallway did not touch. She slid down the cold stone wall until her behind met the floor, and then she buried her face into her drawn up knees, tears stinging her hazel eyes. Everything was falling apart. They were trapped in Mirkwood and did not know if they would ever escape, and now she had likely turned Thorin and the rest of the dwarves against her. She shouldn't have spoken to him like that, but she could not take back what she had done. Perhaps when and if they escaped, Freyja would return to Ered Luin, for she was sure that Thorin would not want her any longer.

...

Some time later, the cell door swung open again, but this time it was not an elvish guard standing on the outside. It was Bilbo. Thorin had been right. Freyja lifted herself up from the floor and brushed past Thorin, who was waiting for her. She could feel his hand against her lower back as he led her out of the cell, but she shook him away, "Don't touch me."

Thorin obeyed her request reluctantly. After she had talked down to him earlier he had been furious and even considered taking back everything he had told her about wanting to court her after reaching Erebor. Then he cooled down and realized that she was indeed right about everything. He had let his pride and his temper get in the way of what would have been best for himself and his company, and he regretted it fully. Thorin had hoped that Freyja would calm down after some much needed time alone and space, but it was clear that she was still extremely upset, for she hadn't even wanted him to touch her.

"I am happy to see you alive and well, Bilbo." Freyja was able to force herself to smile at the hobbit, though she wasn't in the mood to do so.

"The feeling is mutual, Miss Freyja. Now, let's get going before we're caught." Bilbo took off down the stairs, leading the company into a large storage room filled with casks of wine.

"This is a dead end, laddie." Dwalin hissed at the hobbit.

"Get into the barrels, quickly! You have to trust me!" Bilbo motioned to the stack of empty barrels that sat in the middle of the room. One by one the dwarves climbed into them, still a bit unsure of what Bilbo was getting at. Freyja could hear footsteps descending the stairs they had just came from.

Bilbo suddenly pulled a lever and the floor beneath the barrels dropped open, causing them to roll down into the water below, screaming all the while. The company landed safely on the river, for the barrels acted much like makeshift boats. They began to drift down the river, thinking that they had made a safe escape, but when they exited the cave and came into the light, a dozen guards were waiting for them.

The guards had closed the grate, blocking off the company's only path, and were about to seize the dwarves when they were attacked. The orcs had found them. The dwarves and their barrels began stacking up against the metal grate as the elves battled the orcs. Kili suddenly climbed out of his barrel and onto the stone pathway lining the river, heading for the lever that would open the gate and let the company through.

"Kili!" Fili yelled in warning, but it was too late. An orc had sent an arrow flying through the air, and the head of it had dug deep into the youngest prince's thigh. With a pained yell, Kili fell to ground, but he managed to crawl to the lever and pull it before dropping into his barrel once more. Down the river they went, with the orcs trailing close behind alongside of it.

As they drifted down the river, Freyja noticed the blonde and red haired elves picking off the orcs one by one. She did not know if they were trying to help the company or if they were trying to get rid of the orcs so they could capture them once again, but it did not matter. The company was moving down the river quickly as the current picked up, and soon the orcs and the elves were left behind.

Eventually the current died and the company left their barrels, wading through the water to reach the shore. Kili dragged himself onto the rocks and flopped onto his back; the arrow was still lodged in his leg. Freyja dropped to her knees beside the young prince and robbed the fabric of his trousers to get a better look at the damage. The area around the wound was a nasty, irritated red, as she expected it to be.

"Oin?" Freyja looked to her mentor for instructions.

"Rip it out, lass. I'll need cloth to wrap the wound." Oin answered. Without hesitation Fili ripped his own tunic and produced enough cloth, while Freyja took hold of the arrow shaft.

"Ready, Kili? On three," Freyja told him. Kili looked up into her eyes, nodding, "One, two...three!" She yanked the arrow out of his thigh. Kili yelled, his voice echoing through the trees; his eyes were shut and his teeth were clenched tightly. Oin swooped in and quickly washed out the wound before tying the scraps of Fili's tunic around Kili's leg. Freyja tossed the bloodied arrow aside and leaned down to press her lips against the young prince's forehead, hoping to give him some comfort.

"It hurts, Freyja." Kili practically whimpered. Freyja had never seen him so weak, so vulnerable. It was unlike him. Something was wrong. Kili's forehead was burning hot and covered in a sheen of sweat. The wound was likely infected, she deduced.

"Shh, shh. I've got you, Kee." Freyja whispered, stroking his wet, tangled brown hair. It pained her to see one of her closest friends in such agony. She wished that she had been the one to take the arrow instead of him.

"We need to get moving. Now." Thorin's voice raised above the rest. Freyja looked up at the dwarf king with poison in her eyes.

"Your nephew is injured. He needs to rest." Freyja spat.

"The orcs are not far behind. We need-,"

The sudden sound of a bowstring being pulled silenced the bickering couple. Behind Ori was a man with long, dark hair and a bow with a nocked arrow, which happened to be pointed directly at the back of the young red haired dwarf's head. The company could not seem to catch a break.

...

The man, called Bard, turned out to be a bargeman from the city of Lake-town, which happened to be located directly south of Erebor. Lake-town was a city of men; it was created after the city of Dale had been destroyed in Smaug's wake. After some negotiating Bard agreed to allow the company entrance to the city, though they would need to be hidden until they were through the gates.

The company loaded the barrels onto Bard's boat and tossed him all of the gold they had before climbing into the barrels once more. Before approaching the gates of Lake-town, Bard stopped at a fishery and requested that each barrel be filled with fish. Thorin had thought that Bard was giving them up, but he was assuring that they would not be seen, for the fish completely covered each of the dwarves and Bilbo.

There was a bit of trouble at the gates to Lake-town, for the Master's second in command had been suspicious of Bard's cargo. Bard was not a fisherman, so it was indeed unusual for him to be bringing fifteen barrels of fish into the city. Luckily the man was smooth with his words and gained entrance. Upon arriving at his home, Bard dumped each of the dwarves out of their barrels and snuck them into his shabby house through the hole in his latrine. By the time it was all said and done, Freyja felt and smelled absolutely disgusting.

It was quickly decided that the company needed to arm themselves, for Thranduil and his elves had taken all of their weapons in Mirkwood. Bard offered them what little he had, but it was not enough, so he pointed them in the direction of the city's armory.

"Kili, you should stay behind and rest. I will stay with you." Freyja suggested. The young prince was still in a great deal of pain and did not argue with the dwarrowdam. Oin nodded in approval and instructed to check Kili's wound while he went with the rest of the company to retrieve the weapons.

Bard left as well, though not to help the company steal the weapons. He mentioned that he had some errands to run and left Kili and Freyja with his two daughters and one son. The eldest daughter, Sigrid, fetched the dwarrowdam some fresh cloth, a needle and thread, and some salve for Kili's wounds.

"Are you a healer?" Sigrid wondered as she took a seat at the table.

"Oh, not really," Freyja chuckled as she gently peeled Fili's tunic scraps away from Kili's leg, "I'm more of a blacksmith than a healer, but I've been learning from Oin, the actual healer of our company."

"You are doing wonderfully, Freyja." Kili assured the dwarrowdam with a weak smile. It seemed as if he was doing much better than he had before, but the wound was still fresh.

"I've always wanted to become a healer myself." Sigrid admitted as she watched Freyja begin stitching Kili up.

"Come around here, then, and I'll show you how to stitch up a wound."

"Really?" Sigrid asked in surprise.

"Yes!" Freyja laughed, patting the chair beside her. Sigrid rounded the table and sat beside the dwarrowdam, leaning over to see her handiwork, "See how I've started from the middle and worked my way out? Go ahead and finish what I've started."

"But, I've never done this before.."

"The best way to learn is to practice," Freyja repeated her teacher's words, "It's alright, I'll help you along the way."

...

An hour or so later Kili was resting in Bard's armchair and Freyja was regaling the children with tales from their journey so far. The three young ones were intrigued with the dwarrowdam and her stories; they hardly spoke as they listened to her. As Freyja was telling them about their encounter with Mirkwood's giant spiders, Bard came through the front door.

"Your company was caught trying to steal from the armory," He informed Freyja and Kili, "But when Thorin revealed his royal lineage and promised to share Erebor's wealth with Lake-town, the Master welcomed him and the rest of you to stay in his home this evening. You should join your friends."

"Da, she was just telling us about their travels! She can't leave now!" The youngest daughter, Tilda, exclaimed.

"It's alright, little one. I will finish some other time. Come, Kili, it's time to go," Freyja helped Kili up and out of the armchair, "Thank you for your hospitality, Bard."

Kili rested his arm over Freyja's shoulders and leaned against her as she helped him hobble through the door and into the darkness. The pair slowly made their way over the wooden planks of Lake-town until they found themselves at the Master's doorstep.

Chapter Text

"Who are you and what do you want?" A nasty looking man asked upon opening the door and finding Freyja and Kili. The man was hunched over and his pimple covered face was nearly level with Freyja's. Surely this man wasn't the Master?

"I am Freyja and this is Kili. We are members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield," Freyja informed him, "We were told that we would be lodging in the Master's home tonight as guests of honor."

"Funny. I don't recall any of your friends mentioning that there would be two more of you."

"Kili is Thorin Oakenshield's nephew," Freyja practically growled, "He is injured and needs rest. You will let us in."

The man reluctantly stepped to the side and allowed the pair through the door. They immediately entered a large dining hall; the expansive table was covered in plates and food that had been well picked over by the company, Freyja guessed. However, there were no dwarves in sight. They must have retired for the evening already.

"I don't know who you are or what your position is, but if you value your job you will have two plates made up and delivered to us." Freyja said to the man who was still lurking by the front door. The dwarrowdam escorted Kili up the staircase and down the long hallway of bedrooms until she found an empty one with the door open. She could hear the laughter and conversation of their companions from within the other bedrooms.

"None of them came to greet us." Kili noticed, seeming a little glum at the fact.

"No. I'd wager they're too drunk on the Master's ale to care." Freyja helped Kili up onto the large bed and went to work at tucking him beneath the blankets. She propped the soft pillows behind his back so that he was comfortably sitting upright.

"What's going on between you and Thorin?" He wondered, far too curious to go any longer without asking. Kili had heard them arguing in the cell back in Mirkwood and he had noticed that they hadn't even so much as looked at each other since.

"I don't know anymore." Freyja answered, pulling herself up and onto the soft mattress beside the young prince.

"You were right to say everything that you did. He needed to hear it from someone and we were all thinking it."

"I've messed the whole thing up, Kili. I shouldn't have spoken to him that way." Freyja could feel her eyes beginning to sting with tears. Kili reached for her hand and held it in his own; she could feel how clammy his palm was due to the fever. Freyja leaned her head against his shoulder and let out an exhausted sigh.

"He still loves you, Freyja. He won't toss you aside because you spoke your mind. Your honesty is one of the things he admires about you most." Kili assured her, squeezing her hand weakly.

"Speaking of love," Freyja changed the subject before the tears began to fall, "I noticed how you were looking at that red-haired elf maiden in Mirkwood. She was a beauty."

"Indeed she was. I spoke with her a time or two while she was on guard duty. Her name is Tauriel." Kili told the dwarrowdam.

"A wonderful name. Do you hope to see her again?"

"Thorin would never allow it, and you know that just as well as I." He answered, his voice was sad and his eyes were dull. The usual sparkle was nowhere to be found.

"Perhaps he will change his mind, Kili."

"No, he never will. He's a stubborn old fool, as you've recently found out."

"I could speak with him about it." Freyja offered, causing the young prince to perk up slightly.

"Would you? He listens to you."

"I would do anything for you, my dearest friend. But before I can do that I need to make amends with him."

"I have to see her again, Freyja. I felt something deep and powerful inside of me when I first saw her, and the feeling hasn't gone away since. I can think of nothing but her; not even the pain in my leg," Kili admitted in a rush, "What does it all mean, Freyja?"

"It means you are in love, Kili."

...

The man who had let Freyja and Kili into the Master's home, Alfrid, eventually came to deliver two plates of fresh food to the pair. He scurried off in a hurry and left the two to enjoy their hot meal. Kili couldn't stomach most of the food due to his feeling sick, so he gave what he couldn't finish to the starving dwarrowdam.

A knock on the door silenced Freyja and Kili's conversation, "Come in." Freyja called to whoever was on the other side. She assumed it would be Fili who had come to see how his brother was faring, but it was Thorin. The dwarf king looked clean and well-groomed as if he had just finished bathing and braiding his silver-streaked hair. He wore a blue tunic and a pair of loose sleep trousers with a robe over top.

"I would like to borrow your bedmate, if you do not mind, Kili." Thorin finally spoke, his eyes locked onto Freyja. This was it, she thought to herself, this was going to be the end. Thorin was surely going to send her on her way home.

"Go on then, Freyja. I'll be alright." Kili nodded toward his uncle. The dwarrowdam reluctantly slid off of the edge of the mattress and rounded the bed, steadily making her way toward Thorin.

"Goodnight, Kili." Freyja called over her shoulder as she brushed past Thorin and stepped into the dim hallway. The dwarf king closed the door behind himself, leaving Kili alone in the comfort of his bedroom.

"Come." Thorin offered Freyja his arm, and she accepted hesitantly. He led her to the end of the hallway and into a large, luxurious bedroom fit for guests of high status. The room was filled with beautifully crafted furniture and paintings adorned the walls. The long, billowing curtains covered the windows that surely looked out over the lake. Thorin led her even deeper into the bedroom and through another door, which led into the bath chamber.

"What is this?" Freyja wondered as she took in her surroundings. The bath chamber was illuminated by a dozen candles placed throughout the room; their pleasant scent wafted through the air. The bathtub was filled with steaming water and soapy bubbles. It looked divine and the dwarrowdam had been aching for a hot bath since they left Rivendell all those weeks ago.

"An apology." Thorin's low voice rumbled from behind her. He swept her unruly hair away from her neck; his other hand came to rest on her waist as he pressed his lips against her sensitive flesh.

"You have already bathed." Freyja told him. She could smell the same soap on him that was in the bath water.

"My queen has not." Thorin nipped at her earlobe, causing her to let out a sigh. The sound of his voice to close to her ear sent a shiver down her spine.

"Are you implying that I smell bad?" Freyja chuckled as the dwarf king continued to pay her neck his love and attention. She had already forgotten about their argument in Mirkwood.

"Never. But I am implying that you need and deserve a night of relaxation after all I've put you through." Thorin answered.

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you, Thorin." Freyja pulled away slightly and craned her neck so that she could meet his gaze. The apology was sincere and quiet.

"I am the one who needs to apologize, amrâlimê," Thorin said, "You were right about everything."

"No-"

"Hush. There will be no more talk of the matter tonight or any other night. All is forgiven," Thorin placed a kiss onto her lips gently. Oh, how he had missed the taste of her, "I'll leave you to it."

"Stay." Freyja told him with a hint of pleading in her voice. He had already bathed, yes, but that didn't mean he couldn't stay with her.

"This is what you want?" Thorin asked.

"Absolutely."

"Allow me to help you, then."

...

Freyja was nervous, to say the least. Her body was practically trembling against Thorin's chest, and he could feel it. Her back was flush against his front; his fingers were slowly working down the front of her tunic, unbuttoning it as he went. When the filthy tunic was completely open, Freyja allowed it to fall from her shoulders, down her arms, and let it drift down to the floor beside her feet.

"Alright?" Thorin murmured in her ear. Freyja nodded, giving him permission to unclasp the breast band that she wore, and he did. The garment fell to the floor beside her discarded tunic, leaving her completely bare from the waist up. Tempted as he was to run his hands over the soft, pale flesh of her body, Thorin continued working at undressing her.

The dwarf king then moved on to the laces of her breeches. When he was finished there, he pushed them down her thighs slowly to reveal the small, flimsy panties that hardly seemed to cover her behind. Feeling impatient, Freyja pushed them and her breeches down her legs, to the floor, and then stepped out of them.

Freyja was completely naked and her One was still entirely clothed. She felt nervous and a bit cold despite the steam rising from the hot bath water that filled the room. Suddenly, she felt Thorin's hands on her waist from behind. His large, calloused palms ran up and down the sides of her body slowly, savoring the feeling of her soft skin. Freyja allowed her head to fall back to rest against his shoulder, which gave him a good look at what had been hiding beneath her breast band only moments ago.

Thorin's hands came around to caress her belly and then slowly moved upward, coming up beneath her breasts. Freyja sighed at the feeling of his warm palms; she could hear his breathing grow heavier as his fingers brushed across her nipples, "Thorin." She moaned.

"You are so beautiful." He murmured, kissing the side of her head as he continued to knead her breasts gently. Freyja had never been touched like this before and she was absolutely loving it. She had felt cold a moment ago, but now she felt incredibly warm all over, especially between her legs. As Thorin continued his ministrations she pressed her thighs together, hoping to relieve whatever it was that she was feeling down there.

As Thorin's hands worked, his mouth came down to her neck again and began to place hot, open-mouthed kisses there. He no longer cared if he left markings on her pale skin, for he wanted everyone to know that she was his and his alone, "Oh, Thorin."

"The bath water is going to run cold," Thorin reluctantly pulled his mouth and hands away from Freyja's body, causing her to groan in frustration, "I will stay with you."

Freyja stepped into the steaming water and lowered herself into the tub with a sigh. It felt and smelled incredible; it was just what she needed, "Lay back." Thorin instructed as he sat on the ledge of the tub. He had rolled up the pant legs of his trousers so that his feet could rest on either side of Freyja in the water.

The dwarrowdam laid back at Thorin's request. He went to work, thoroughly soaking Freyja's mane of hair before pouring an adequate amount of soap into the palm of his hand. Thorin scrubbed the flowery smelling soap into her dark tresses while simultaneously working the knots out of them. Her hazel eyes had been glued to his face, watching him, until his fingertips began to gently massage her scalp. Freyja's eyes fell shut and she let out a satisfied moan.

"Sit up." Thorin requested after he had finished rinsing the soap out of Freyja's hair. She obeyed once again and swept her soaked mane to the side as Thorin began to gently scrub the rest of her body with the same pleasantly scented soap. Oh, how she was loving the feeling of his hands against her warm skin. Freyja knew that his large, strong hands would be able to work any and all of the knots out of her neck and shoulders.

"Thorin?" Freyja managed to murmur.

"Hmm?"

"Did you happen to find any massage oil lying around here?"

...

Moments later, the tub had been drained of water and Freyja was lying face down on Thorin's large mattress, thoroughly dried off and waiting for Thorin to finish kindling the fire. Freyja's eyes were closed, and she was practically dozing off when she suddenly felt the mattress dip beneath Thorin's weight. His legs came to rest on either side of her still naked body, and he hovered over her, admiring her.

Freyja's skin was pale, soft, and almost completely flawless, except for a few scars on her back. Thorin did not mind the raised lines that ran across the expanse of her back. In fact, he admired them, for they were the markings of a warrior. For the first time he noticed the small, black ink horseshoe tattoo on the back of her neck that had been hidden beneath her hair all along.

With a grin, Thorin reached for the bottle of massage oil on the bedside table and took it into his hands. He allowed a fair amount of the oil to fall into the palm of his hands before rubbing them together and then placing them on the back of Freyja's neck. The dwarf king went to work, massaging and kneading her flesh gently but with enough pressure to get rid of any knots.

"Oh, I love your hands, Thorin." Freyja sighed against the soft, downy pillow that she was resting on.

"Not too rough for you?"

"Never."

"Wait until you see what else I can do with them, ghivashel." He teased as he continued downward to her shoulders.

"Mmm." Freyja managed to moan out as Thorin squeezed her trapezius muscles. His oil slick hands easily moved across her skin as he headed down to her back. Thorin pressed his knuckles against the sides of her somewhat prominent vertebrae. He would be sure that his One had plenty to eat upon returning to the mountain. They were all a bit skinnier after such long days of traveling with little food.

Thorin continued down her body, spending a bit more time massaging the muscles of her behind than he needed to, before making his way to her calves and feet. When he ran his knuckles against the sole of her feet she practically shouted in pleasure and pain combined. It hurt at first but then as she relaxed it began to feel wonderful.

"Roll over." Thorin said lowly, his voice filled with lust. He had massaged her oil slick body for nearly half an hour and listening to her moans of pleasure and watching her writhe beneath his hands had been enough to arouse him.

Freyja slowly but steadily turned herself over until she was facing Thorin. Her hazel eyes were half lidded as she looked up at him. The dwarrowdam spread her legs so that each one was on either side of her dwarf king. It took all of his willpower not to look down between her legs where he knew he would find dark curls and wet slick that had not come from the oil. Thorin's icy blue eyes stayed trained on hers, "What else can your hands do, Thorin?"

Chapter Text

Thorin was conflicted as he gazed down at his beautiful, naked dwarrowdam. He wanted her. Badly. But was it the right time? It was late and the company would be departing from Lake-town early in the morning. The two of them needed rest if they were to face a dragon the next day, but he felt the opposite of tired. Thorin also knew that he could very well die tomorrow, and this would be his last chance to enjoy the company of his One if that were the case. He wanted to show her just how much he loved her.

"You are a million miles away." Freyja's soft voice brought his attention back to her. The dwarrowdam reached up to caress his bearded jaw; her thumb stroked his cheek.

"I want you, ghivashel," Thorin admitted, lowering himself gently on top of her. He rested his forehead against her own, his lips brushing against hers, "But there is much on my mind tonight. Tomorrow we arrive at Erebor."

"I know, Thorin. That's been at the back of my mind all night."

"I have never been afraid of a fight, but I find myself fearing what might happen when we reach the mountain."

"It's alright to be scared. I am, too. We all are."

"I am not afraid for myself," Thorin's eyes gazed deeply into Freyja's, "I am afraid to lose you so soon after finding you."

"I will always be by your side." Freyja assured her dwarf king.

"Should we survive tomorrow, I will hold you to that promise."

Freyja kissed Thorin slowly and sweetly, tugging at the hem of his tunic as their lips moved together. Taking the hint, Thorin pulled away and tossed the tunic aside; it landed somewhere on the hardwood floor beside the bed, "The trousers too, please." Freyja grinned up at Thorin, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

"As my lady wishes." Thorin answered, sliding off of the mattress to stand upright. He unlaced the front of his trousers and pushed them down off of his hips and onto the floor beside his discarded tunic. Freyja couldn't help but let her eyes follow the trail of hair that lead down his muscled abdomen and ended at his manhood.

She obviously had never seen this much of a man before, and it was indeed a sight to behold. Freyja had no way of comparison, but she could tell that her dwarf king was well endowed; so well endowed, in fact, that she was beginning to worry that he would never be able to fit inside of her when the time came. A red hot blush broke out all over the dwarrowdam's body as she watched Thorin climb into bed beside her.

Thorin propped the pillows up behind his back and leaned against the intricately carved wooden headboard, extending his arm and inviting Freyja into his warm embrace. The dwarrowdam crawled to him, resting her head against his chest and entwining her leg between his as he pulled the silken sheets up to cover the both of them. Thorin's fingers combed through Freyja's drying hair as her own traced the many scars lining his chest.

"You are beautiful, Thorin." Freyja broke the peaceful silence, placing a gentle kiss against one of the more prominent battle scars.

"Is that why you were staring at me when I removed my trousers?" Thorin chuckled.

"I was just...surprised, and a bit nervous, to be truthful." Freyja admitted.

"Why is that?" He inquired, his eyes meeting her own. Her cheeks were absolutely flushed, "You know you can tell me anything, Freyja. There is no need to be nervous."

"You're just so...large. And I am so small. I don't quite understand how it will work."

"It will be painful in the beginning, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are well prepared so that the discomfort will only be brief."

"How will you do that?" Freyja wondered.

"Do you want me to tell you, or show you?"

...

A moment later, Freyja was flat on her back with her head resting atop a pillow. Thorin's narrow waist was between her spread legs, and his lips were working down her neck slowly and hotly. He stopped every so often to nip at the sensitive flesh, which would surely leave markings, but neither of them cared any longer. Thorin worked across her collar bone and then kissed down the valley between her breasts.

Suddenly, his mouth covered one of her hardened nipples, causing her to gasp in surprise. His fingers came up to the other and circled it as his mouth continued to work. Thorin's tongue circled the peak once before his teeth gently bit down; Freyja's back arched, pressing her chest against his face even more. Thorin repeated the action with her other breast until her hips were pushing against his own forcefully.

The dwarf king unlatched his mouth from Freyja's breast and continued down over her stomach. He lifted his eyes and found that her head was thrown back and her throat was revealed to him; he could see that the markings from his mouth were already beginning to form.

Thorin continued lower and lower until he reached his destination, but paused. Freyja was breathing heavily as she anticipated what was to come next. She waited to feel his mouth against her core, but it did not come. Instead, he placed his lips against the inside of one of her thighs and kissed her there gently. Freyja let out a frustrated groan, which earned her a soft chuckle in return.

"Be patient, ghivashel." Thorin murmured against the flesh of her thigh. He kissed up the inside of it until he came to the spot she had been waiting for him to reach. The dwarf king spread her legs open as far as they could manage to go and then licked her core from bottom to top, causing her hips to jerk upward suddenly as she moaned. She tasted sweet like the soap he had scrubbed her with only an hour ago.

"Thorin.." Freyja sighed as his tongue circled her entrance. The feeling was completely foreign to her but it was amazing. Thorin moved upward slightly and began to circle the nub at the top of her core, which had her absolutely moaning. He continued to work his tongue against her in various patterns, testing to see what she liked most until she was thoroughly dripping for him. It was then that he pressed one finger to her entrance lightly.

"Alright?"

"Yes, yes." Freyja answered quickly, knowing full well what he was asking. Thorin continued to suckle at her nub as he gently pushed one thick digit into her wet heat until it was completely buried. He gave her a moment to adjust, though she took it rather well, and then began to push it slowly in and out of her, his mouth never ceasing its work. It wasn't long until Freyja was beginning to tremble, a sure sign that she was close to her end.

Thorin curled his finger inside of her suddenly and hit a spot that caused Freyja's hips to buck. With his free hand he pinned her waist down and continued the motion. Her hands came down to rest in his dark, silver-streaked hair. Freyja's grip tightened on his locks as he increased the pace of his finger and tongue, and then she was shaking violently with a loud moan. Thorin pulled his mouth away from her core, giving her a moment to recover from her climax, but he left his finger buried inside of her. He could feel her walls clenching around his digit and could only imagine how it would feel when he was actually inside of her for himself.

When her body finally slumped and her hands loosened on his hair, Thorin slipped his finger from her and sucked her juices from it. He rose from between her thighs and leaned over her; Freyja's eyes were trained on his. She pulled him down and pressed her lips against his. She could taste herself on his mouth, and she could feel how hard he was against her thigh.

"I see that I'm not the only one who enjoyed that." Freyja teased as she rubbed her thigh against him. Thorin groaned and pressed his hips against her more forcefully.

"We need to rest, but we won't be able to if you keep teasing me so." Thorin informed his dwarrowdam. As tempted as he was to take her then and there, right in that moment, he wouldn't.

"May I touch you?" Freyja asked, her hand wandering down his stomach.

He should have stopped her, but he didn't, "Always."

Freyja gently took Thorin's impressive length into her hand and gave him a squeeze. It was a strange feeling, for the muscle beneath was hard as stone but the flesh was soft as velvet and searing hot. Her fingers struggled to meet as she slowly pumped him up and down. Thorin dropped his head and let out a strangled moan.

"Is this alright?" Freyja wondered.

"Squeeze harder, ghivashel," Thorin managed to instruct. Freyja's fingers grasped him slightly tighter, "Harder."

"I'm not hurting you?"

"You cannot and will not hurt me."

Freyja gripped Thorin's length tighter and continued to pump up and down. His arms were practically shaking as they supported the weight of his body above her. Thorin's hips began to thrust in time with her hand, and the pace steadily increased until suddenly his hips stopped moving altogether and his seed spilled all over the flesh of Freyja's stomach.

Freyja continued to stroke him slowly and more gently than before, causing Thorin to groan, for he was much more sensitive now, "How was that?"

"It was wonderful, as are you." Thorin answered as his breathing began to even out. He reached for the towel Freyja had been lying on earlier and wiped the mess he had made all over his dwarrowdam's stomach before discarding it as he had his clothing.

Thorin once again pulled the sheets over their bodies and brought Freyja flush against him before placing a kiss against the side of her head.

"Thorin?"

"Yes, my queen?"

"I love you."

"And I love you."

Chapter Text

The morning had come much too soon for Freyja. She had spent the entire night fast asleep in her One's arms, but it seemed as if the sun had risen as quickly as it had set the evening before. Golden rays of sunlight were shining through the curtains covering the windows, spilling over the couple that was still tangled in the sheets and each other.

Freyja knew that Thorin was awake, for his fingers were once again combing through her dark locks, "Good morning." She greeted him.

"Will you allow me to braid it?" Thorin wondered, tugging on her hair gently.

"Absolutely." Freyja answered without hesitation. The dwarrowdam pulled herself into a sitting position, holding the silk sheet that had been covering them both against her chest to maintain some level of modesty. Thorin slid off of the bed and rifled through the drawers of the beside table, searching for some sort of hairbrush or even a comb. When he finally located one, he reassumed his position behind Freyja's and pulled the entirety of her hair over her shoulders, causing it to cascade down the pale skin of her back.

Gently, Thorin began dragging the brush through her hair, being careful not to pull too hard and hurt her. He encountered a few tangles here and there, but it didn't take long to brush them out. Satisfied with his work, Thorin set the hairbrush aside and took Freyja's mane into his hands, "So beautiful." He murmured, savoring the feeling of the soft strands against his skin.

"The journey hasn't been kind to it." Freyja said over her shoulder. More often than not her hair was covered in dust, dirt, sweat, or even blood, and there had not been many opportunities to wash it.

With deft fingers and a concentrated expression on his face, Thorin went to work at braiding his One's hair. Freyja's eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of his hands in her hair, though it didn't take him terribly long to accomplish his goal. Thorin knew what he was doing and had had plenty of practice with this particular set of braids, for they matched his own. He gave her one simple braid on each side of her head, though instead of letting them simply hang with the rest of her hair, he brought them together at the back of her head and clasped them there with one of his own silver hair beads. It was as if he had woven a circlet out of her own hair and adorned it with a single gem.

"Let us see how long you can manage to go without messing up the hard work I have just done, little mountain troll." Thorin chuckled softly, planting kisses along Freyja's shoulder and up her neck.

"The dragon may very well singe all of my hair off," Freyja told him, "I would certainly look like a mountain troll then."

"I would love you just the same," Thorin told her, placing one final kiss against the nape of her neck, "Come, it is time to go."

...

Soon enough the company had gathered their supplies and filed out of the Master's home one by one, thanking him for his hospitality. The line of dwarves and one hobbit were escorted to the docks by the Master's guards; the people cheered and waved as they watched Thorin and his company parade through the streets of Lake-town.

As the dwarves began to pile into the small boat the Master had provided them, Thorin pulled his youngest nephew aside and spoke something low into his ear. Freyja watched as Kili's expression of pride fall away and be replaced with disbelief, "Uncle, I feel fine. I am more than capable of travel!"

"You are injured, Kili. You will slow us down and we need to reach the mountain by the last light of Durin's Day," Thorin informed the young prince, "Stay here and rest. We will send for you when the mountain is taken."

"My place lies with the sick. I will stay behind with Kili." Oin stepped out of the boat.

"Aye, I will as well," Bofur added, "They will need protection."

"Freyja, as Oin's apprentice it would be wise for you to stay behind as well." Thorin turned to the dwarrowdam, who had stopped packing the supplies into the boat when she had heard Kili's outburst.

"That leaves only eleven of you, Thorin. You need as many swords as-"

"Stay and look after my nephew, Freyja," It was not a request, it was a command, and Freyja was furious. She had been waiting for this day for nearly a year now. She had suffered through so much to help retake Erebor, and now she was being forced to stay behind and wait for the rest of the company to accomplish the task without her, "I can't lose you. Please, stay."

Freyja tossed the bag of supplies she had been holding aside and moved to stand beside Kili. The young dwarf wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She knew that he was just as disappointed as she was, perhaps even more so. Kili had heard tales of Erebor all his life and had been waiting to see his true homeland since he was just a lad. Together they would sit and wait to hear whether their friends and family had been successful or had died trying to retake the mountain.

"I am staying behind as well." Fili jumped out of the boat.

"Your place is with the company, Fili." Thorin argued. The eldest nephew did not listen; instead, he came to stand on the other side of his brother.

"No, my place is with my brother." The golden-haired prince told his uncle, not budging from Kili's side.

Thorin looked as if he wanted to command Fili to get back into the boat, but instead he allowed him to stay. He knew what it was like to have an unbreakable bond with a younger brother, so he would not force the two of them apart. With a nod of acceptance, Thorin stepped forward to bid his nephews goodbye, and then he stopped before Freyja.

"Watch out for them, ghivashel. I will see you soon," The dwarf king leaned down and met Freyja's lips with his own. The couple shared a slow, sweet kiss before the company and the people of Lake-town. Neither of them wanted to let the other go, but it was time for the company to depart, so Thorin broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Freyja's for just a moment, "I love you. More than anything. More than life itself."

"I love you, too." Freyja managed to choke out through the tears that were beginning to spill down her cheeks. With a swipe of his thumbs, Thorin brushed the droplets from her face and turned away to board the boat. The guards untied it from the dock and the dwarves began to paddle it away from Lake-town and towards the shore that sat in the shadow of the mountain.

Freyja was afraid that she would never see any of her friends, or her One, again. Fili and Kili each took one of her hands in theirs and escorted her away from the docks, leading her, Bofur, and Oin toward Bard's home where they would stay the night. As she walked between the brothers, heavy, silent tears continued to stream down her cheeks and fall to the wooden planks below her.

Chapter Text

Hours later the sun had set, and Kili's sickness had grown dramatically worse. Freyja and Oin had both thought that the young prince was well on his way to recovery, but they had been wrong. His wound looked terribly infected, his entire body was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and he was struggling to maintain consciousness. Oin had cleared Bard's dining table and the group of dwarves that had stayed behind hoisted Kili onto the flat surface.

Oin was in need of a very specific plant in order to treat Kili's wound, and Bard's children had luckily recognized the name and informed him that the people of Lake-town often feed it to their pigs. Bofur was out the door in a flash to hunt it down.

"Kili, stay with us." Freyja squeezed his hand in hers, her mouth only inches from his ear. Fili was standing over his brother, watching Oin work with worry in his cerulean eyes. Suddenly, the front door of Bard's home crashed open to reveal an orc instead of Bofur with the plants in hand. Fili immediately took up arms and rushed at the hideous creature while Freyja gathered Bard's children behind her, shielding their bodies with her own.

Fili managed to kill the orc with ease, but soon enough a larger group of them arrived, coming in through the doors and windows surrounding the house. The dwarves and children were outnumbered by the creatures until two tall, familiar figures joined the mix. It was Kili's red-haired elf maiden, Tauriel, and the blonde elf that had confiscated Orcrist from Thorin in Mirkwood.

The two elves fought alongside Fili until there were no orcs left standing in Bard's home. It was then that Tauriel noticed the small, dark-haired dwarf that had she had spoken with while on guard duty. She looked over Kili's nearly lifeless body until her eyes fell on Freyja, "What's happened to him?"

"We suspect the arrow that he was hit with was poisoned." Freyja answered as she held Tilda, Bard's youngest daughter, against her side. The little girl was practically shaking in fear.

"Leave him, Tauriel. He will be dead before the end of the night." The blonde elf said before stepping out of the house to track down the rest of the orcs that were wandering the streets of Lake-town. Tauriel could not bring herself to follow him. Instead, she found her feet carrying her to Kili's makeshift bed.

It was at that moment that Bofur burst into Bard's home with a handful of herbs in his hands. Tauriel recognized them almost immediately, "Give them to me."

Bofur was hesitant to listen to her, for he remembered that she had been their enemy only days ago, but Oin ordered him to obey her. Elves were well versed in the field of healing, and he knew that Tauriel had a better chance of saving Kili than he did. Tauriel took the herbs from Bofur and went to work.

The red-haired elf stood over Kili and began to murmur soft, foreign words that were barely audible to the rest of the group. Oin came to stand beside his apprentice and leaned down to speak in her ear, "Elvish healing is a true wonder. I never thought I would witness such magic."

Magic it was, indeed. Freyja watched as Kili slowly regained life and consciousness. Upon seeing Tauriel above him, he smiled.

...

When Kili was finally stable the dwarves began to relax and unwind for the evening, though Tauriel and Oin still watched over the young prince like hawks in case he took a turn for the worse yet again. Bard had not been present for hours and Freyja was beginning to wonder where he went off to. His children were still a bit shaken after the orc attack, but Bofur was keeping them distracted with more stories from their journey to Erebor.

Freyja stepped outside for a breath of fresh lake air, leaning against the rickety railing of Bard's front porch. She could see the mountain looming over Lake-town in the darkness, and she wondered if Thorin had managed to find his way inside of it. If he had, what were they going to do about that dragon?

"May I join you?" Fili's familiar voice sounded from behind the dwarrowdam.

"Of course, Fili." Freyja answered, patting the railing beside her. The eldest prince came to stand beside her and followed her gaze to the mountain.

"I worry for them as well." His voice was low and somber; an unusual thing to hear from Fili. He was a lighthearted, high spirited young dwarf who always had a positive outlook on everything. Tonight, however, it was difficult feel happy when their family and friends were possibly taking on a dragon alone.

"I should be up there with them."

"We all should be," Fili agreed, "But Thorin was right to leave Kili behind. You, not so much. You are a warrior, and you belong with the company, but he is afraid of losing you, so he doesn't want you in harm's way."

"We are never out of harm's way. This night has been evidence of that," Freyja turned to look at the golden-haired prince. She found that he had a small grin on his lips, "What's so amusing?"

"I just never thought I'd be the last one to find a woman, that's all. Thorin has you, and now Kili has fallen head over heels for an elf. An interesting turn of events, I'd say."

"So it's that obvious, then," Freyja was referring to Kili, "He admitted that to me last night. I should have known that you would find out sooner rather than later, seeing as how close you two are."

"I can read Kili like a book, though it wasn't difficult to notice with the way he was grinning up at her just a moment ago," Fili laughed, "He is a fool in love."

"You will be next. Just you wait."

"No, I won't have time for love. Thorin will begin training me for the throne as soon as we reach the mountain."

"Does Thorin not want children of his own?" Freyja wondered. It was something that she should know the answer to, but she and Thorin hadn't spoken much about matters such as that.

"I am sure he does, but he never expected to find his One, so he has been counting on me to be the heir to the throne. Perhaps if the two of you have a child, I will be replaced."

"Do you want to be king?"

"The crown is a heavy burden, but I will wear it if Thorin needs me to." Fili answered simply, the smile falling from his lips. It was clear to Freyja that Fili didn't truly want the throne. He seemed to be in a predicament very similar to the one Thorin had been in at his age. He wanted to do his duty to Erebor, but he did not want to sacrifice his freedom for it.

"Thorin has many years of life left in him," Freyja told Fili in attempt to make him feel better, "It will be a long while before you are asked to take the throne. In the meantime, enjoy yourself."

"Wise advice, my dear Auntie Freyja." Fili playfully nudged her shoulder with his own, causing the dwarrowdam to blush.

"I'm not your auntie yet."

"By the looks of those braids and the bead that adorns them, you will be soon. I could recognize my uncle's handiwork anywhere," Fili informed her, "I am happy that you two were able to make up after what happened in Mirkwood."

"As am I." Freyja admitted.

"The coming months will be rather exciting. Erebor will be retaken, Thorin's coronation will take place after that, and then your wedding will follow soon after, I'd wager."

"Before any of that can happen, the dragon must be slain."

As if the world had heard the words come from Freyja's lips, a gust of strong wind blew over Lake-town in a hot rush. The dwarrowdam suddenly remembered what Thorin had told her all those weeks ago when he had been describing Smaug's attack on Dale and Erebor. A loud, terrifying roar came next, followed by the sound of flapping wings. The company had woken the dragon.

"Dragon!" Freyja yelled, warning whoever could hear her, but it was too late. Smaug was descending on Lake-town and would surely leave it in ruin, just as he had done to Dale and Erebor decades ago.

...

Escaping Lake-town had been a hectic, mad rush. Every person in the town was in the streets and canals, pushing their way through to find an available boat to use. Smaug had already unleashed his flames on them once, leaving half the city to burn.

Freyja, Fili, Kili, Oin, Bofur, Tauriel, and Bard's three children found themselves among the chaos in search of their own boat. Though Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda were riddled with fear, they kept brave faces and helped the dwarves and elf locate their father's boat, but Bard was still nowhere to be found. The rag tag group boarded the vessel and Tauriel began to paddle them through the waterways of Lake-town, searching for an exit while Smaug loomed over the city.

Freyja looked up at the dragon and took in its appearance. It was larger than anything she had ever seen before in her lifetime, and equally as deadly. The beast was as red as the fire it spewed from its jaws. As she watched Smaug swoop down over Lake-town again, she heard the familiar sound of a bow being drawn and an arrow being released. There, standing on the dilapidated bell tower, was Bard.

"Da!" Bain screamed, hopping out of the boat onto the wooden walkway. Sigrid reached out to grab his tunic and pull him back into the boat, but it was too late. The boy had taken off at a run to join his father, stopping along the way to grab something long, metallic, and black from beneath a pile of fishing nets. If Freyja didn't know any better, she'd say that it looked like an arrow. An arrow large enough to pierce the hide of a dragon.

Tauriel continued to row the boat through the canal, swiftly maneuvering between other boats and obstacles. Almost the entire city was alight with fire by then, and some people had resorted to swimming out of the city instead of waiting to find a boat.

Freyja watched as Bain joined his father. Together they made a large, makeshift bow using the stilts of the bell tower and Bard's bowstring. Bard placed the black arrow over his son's shoulder as Smaug slinked his way toward them, crushing houses beneath his massive feet. The dragon was speaking, Freyja noticed. He was taunting Bard, threatening to eat his son and then kill him after. Bard paid him no mind as he continued to steady the arrow on Bain's shoulder. He was looking for a spot of weakness, and when he found one, he let the arrow fly.

The black arrow pierced Smaug's belly, and then he was no more.

Chapter Text

By the time the dwarves, Tauriel, and the people of Lake-town that had survived Smaug's attack reached the shore, the sun had risen over the horizon. People were frantically searching for their family and friends, hoping to find them alive and intact. The members of Thorin's company had all managed to escape the city with the help of Tauriel and Bard's children.

When Sigrid and Tilda spotted their father, they rushed into his arms, and he wrapped them in a tight embrace. People were beginning to gather around the bargeman, and one man's voice rang out above the crowd, "Bard is the one who killed the dragon! I saw him kill it with the black arrow!"

The rest of the crowd began to chatter amongst themselves, and some of them began calling him the new Master, for the old one had perished after Smaug's lifeless body had fallen onto his boat. Alfrid, the nasty, pimple faced man that had served beneath the old Master came forth through the crowd and placed an arm around Bard, "Yes, Bard is the new Master!"

"Where were you when the dragon attacked, Alfrid? I saw you on the Master's boat with all of our gold!" An older woman accused. The rest of the crowd began to nod in agreement.

"He wouldn't listen to me," Alfrid insisted, "I told not to do it. I told him 'Master, no!'"

"Lies!" The woman yelled. The crowd of people surrounded Alfrid and began to tug at him. One man grabbed an arm, another grabbed a leg, and they began to beat him senseless until Bard's voice caused all of it to cease.

"That's enough!" The dark-haired dragon killer ordered. The people dropped Alfrid and sent him stumbling to the ground, "Have you not had your fill of death today?!"

"What do you propose we do, Bard?" A different lady inquired. The town was gone; burnt to a crisp. They had no shelter, no food, no fresh water, and some were even without families.

"Gather what you can. Help those who cannot help themselves along," Bard decided, "Winter is nearly upon us and we need to find shelter. Let's get moving."

...

Freyja and Fili watched as the people of Lake-town began to gather what little belongings they had left. There at the water's edge stood Kili and Tauriel. They were engaged in conversation, and the young prince was looking up at the tall elf maiden with adoration in his eyes. Freyja had never seen him so happy. She watched as Kili placed something small and round in Tauriel's slender hands; the stone his mother had given him before leaving Ered Luin.

When the tall, blonde elf arrived, Legolas, Freyja could see Tauriel's figure stiffen as if she could sense his presence. Legolas said something to Tauriel, and then they were riding off on the back of a white horse not a moment later, leaving Kili alone. He watched his One ride off with Legolas and hoped that they would meet again.

"Kee," Fili called to his brother, "It's time to go."

With his head bowed, Kili made his way to the group of dwarves waiting for him. Freyja put an arm around his shoulder as they began the last leg of their journey toward the mountain, "I know it's difficult, Kili. You'll see her again."

"I hope you're right." His brown eyes met Freyja's hazel. It was strange, Freyja thought to herself. Normally, Fili and Kili were the ones cheering her up, and now it was the other way around.

For the next couple of hours, Freyja, Fili, Kili, Bofur, and Oin trekked up the rocky hills toward Erebor. The trip was exhausting, but danger free, much to everyone's pleasure. They had had enough of being chased by orcs, captured by goblins, and fleeing from dragons.

As they neared Erebor, Freyja couldn't help but to begin worrying. She had so many questions fluttering about in her head, but there was no point in asking them because no one would have answers. Was Thorin alive? What about the rest of the dwarves and Bilbo? Where had Gandalf gone off to, and would he be back? Was this the end of the quest?

All of Freyja's thoughts disappeared when they reached the top of the final hill and the magnificent gates of Erebor were revealed. Gigantic stone statues of dwarves sat on either side of the gate as if they were guarding the kingdom of Erebor themselves. The field standing between the group and the entrance was lush and green, much like Thorin had described it. It was beautiful. It was home.

"I never thought we'd see it." Fili admitted, looking over at his younger brother who was equally in awe. The brothers had been waiting for this moment all their lives, and Erebor had definitely lived up to their expectations.

"We'd best get in there," Bofur said, "Who knows if the lads are still alive, but if they are, they might be injured and in need of help."

"Agreed. Let's get down there." Oin took the lead and the rest of the dwarves followed. Freyja wanted to sprint across the field to reach Thorin as fast as she possibly could but instead, she settled for a brisk paced walk behind Bofur.

Soon enough the group was passing through the gates of Erebor and entering the mountain, "Hello!" Fili called, his voice echoing off of the stone walls. Surely if anyone was still alive, they would hear him. A short, familiar figured appeared at the top of the staircase before them.

"Bilbo!" Freyja exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace the hobbit. In truth, as he had been most worried for his safety above the rest of the dwarves, for he was the least experienced in combat. Bilbo was a sneaky little thing, though, and he had proven to them all that he was capable of looking after himself.

"Hello, Freyja." Bilbo returned the dwarrowdam's warm hug. He was happy to see that she was still alive after Smaug had attacked Lake-town.

"Where's Thorin?" Fili inquired as the rest of the dwarves ascended the staircase to greet them. They all seemed to be withholding something from the eldest prince, "Well?"

Freyja feared the worst. None of their companions were answering Fili's question. Thorin had to be dead; why else would they be avoiding the question? Tears threatened to spill down Freyja's cheeks, and she struggled to hold back a sob until Balin finally spoke up, "He is alive, laddie. But he is sick."

"Sick?" Kili asked, confused.

"He has the gold sickness," Balin answered solemnly, "Just like his grandfather, Thror, the last ruler of Erebor."

"Where is he?" Fili demanded to know. The very same question was in Freyja's mind. When none of them answered yet again, Fili pushed past the group and descended the very staircase their companions had just come from. Freyja and Kili followed close behind, and the rest of the company wasn't far behind.

They came to a platform and halted immediately. The massive room they were standing in was entirely filled with glittering gold, gems, and other trinkets. There among the pile stood Thorin himself, wearing a flowing black fur coat and a black and gold crown upon his head. Freyja had never seen him look so regal, so kingly.

"My sister's sons," Thorin greeted Fili and Kili who were at the head of the group, "Welcome to Erebor."

There was something off in his voice, Freyja noticed. His tone was darker and sterner, and his eyes hardly even looked away from the treasure beneath his feet as he spoke to his nephews. Balin had mentioned gold sickness. Freyja had not known what the term meant, but now she was beginning to understand. The massive amount of treasure had turned him greedy, as if he were a dragon like Smaug.

Freyja continued to descend the steps, ignoring Balin's warning not to approach the king. The dwarrowdam stepped onto the pile of gold and slowly made her way toward Thorin. As she approached him, his gaze lifted from the treasure and met her own, though it was not Thorin that she saw in those beautiful blue eyes of his. This was someone else; someone greedy, and selfish, and cold. This was not her Thorin. This was not her One.

"Thorin..." Freyja murmured as she came to a halt before him.

"My queen." Thorin practically growled, though it was not in anger. His large, calloused hands that Freyja had recently become very fond of rested on her shoulders. They then moved down her arms, and then to her waist, before coming to a stop on her behind. Freyja gasped in surprise and embarrassment as he squeezed her roughly and pulled her flush against his chest. Thorin lowered his lips to meet hers in a harsh kiss. He had never been so forceful with her, and it was beginning to worry her.

Thorin's teeth bit down on Freyja's bottom lip, his hands still kneading the flesh of her ass. Her own hands came up to his solid chest and pushed him back with all of the strength she could muster to put some distance between the two of them. A look of betrayal appeared in his eyes, "You refuse your king's touch?"

"This isn't the time or the place, Thorin," Freyja told him, "The entire company is watching us."

"You are right, my beautiful gem," He placed a kiss on her forehead and moved his hands to a more appropriate location on her body, "We need to look for the Arkenstone. There will be time for this tonight. I will have the king's bedchambers cleaned and prepared for us."

Thorin released the dwarrowdam and turned on his heel, gluing his eyes to the treasure surrounding them once more. Freyja looked up to her companions and found that they were still standing in silence, watching their king with worry in their eyes. Balin had been right. Thorin was sick and Freyja wondered if he would ever recover.

Chapter Text

The entire day had been spent looking for the Arkenstone, also known as the King's Jewel. Thorin was desperate to have it sitting above his throne where it rightfully belonged and would not let the company properly rest until it was found. The amount of gold and gems in the mountain was practically infinite, however, which meant that it would be impossible to locate the damned thing. Bilbo was the one who originally been tasked with finding it, but now that Smaug was out of the picture everyone was able to help search.

"Thorin, I have restored the king's bedchambers to the best of my abilities." Balin informed the king who was slouching in his throne, waiting for one of the dwarves to find the Arkenstone and deliver it to him. He was quickly growing impatient, but the news that his bedchambers had been cleaned and were now livable put him in a slightly better mood. He was pleased that he would have a comfortable, private place to ravish his queen all through the night.

"Send for Freyja," Thorin ordered the old, white-haired dwarf, "We will retire for the evening."

"Yes, my king." Balin nodded respectfully and went on his way to fetch the dwarrowdam. In truth, he was worried for her wellbeing. Thorin was not in his right mind. Balin feared that the king would take whatever he wanted from Freyja, whether she was willing to give it to him or not.

"How is he?" Freyja wondered when Balin returned to the group of dwarves that was still hard at work digging through the endless pile of gold and gems. She knew the answer already, but she was still hoping and praying to Mahal that he would come out of his gold sickness.

"No different, I'm afraid. He's sent me to fetch you, lass."

"What for?"

"He is ready for bed and would like you to join him," Balin told her. Her expression grew slightly fearful. She knew that Thorin was not his normal self, as his behavior earlier had clearly demonstrated. Freyja's Thorin was sweet, gentle, and respectful of her boundaries. This Thorin was not.

"I will not be far away." Balin assured the dwarrowdam. She managed to give him a thankful smile before ascending the steps to the throne room. Upon her arrival, she found Thorin sitting lazily with his legs spread wide before him. When he saw her, he beckoned her forward and patted his thigh.

"Come, have a seat on your throne, my queen," Thorin said, referring to his own lap. Freyja hesitantly approached him and lowered herself onto his muscular thigh with her legs between his. She practically flinched when his hand began to stroke her back up and down, "So beautiful. More so than any gem in this mountain."

"Except for the Arkenstone." Freyja said lowly, beneath her breath.

"The Arkenstone cannot compare to you. I cannot caress it, kiss it, or fuck it like I can you."

Freyja cringed at Thorin's dirty words, "You've never truly had me before, Thorin."

"That changes tonight," The king growled, his voice laced with lust, "I was a fool not to take you against the wall of Beorn's barn when you were begging me for it. I should have fucked you hard enough to make you scream my name and wake the entire company."

Thorin yanked Freyja fully onto his lap; her ass came into contact with the hardening bulge beneath the laces of his trousers. Only two nights ago she had been naked beneath Thorin, stroking him to completion, unafraid and ready to take him inside of her. Now she wasn't so sure if that was what she wanted. The gold sickness had turned him vulgar and demanding; she didn't want her first time to be with this version of him.

"Thorin-,"

"I promised you that I would take you on a bed of silk sheets. There is one waiting for us in the king's bedchambers." Thorin lined Freyja's neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses while one hand cupped her breast and the other dipped under her waistband slightly. Her body was reacting to his ministrations; she could feel herself growing wet between her legs, but her mind was not as easily convinced.

"Save this for the bed, Thorin." She pleaded, hoping to buy herself some more time. Respecting her wishes, he removed his hands from beneath her tunic and breeches before standing up.

"Come." Thorin marched away from the throne and into one of the many dark hallways of Erebor with purpose. Freyja reluctantly followed him through the winding halls until they came to a large wing filled with bedrooms. At the very end of the hall behind a set of large, intricately carved wooden doors sat the king's bedchambers.

Balin had cleaned the room as best as he could. It had managed to avoid any damage from Smaug's attack, but the furniture had still turned old and dusty over time. The white-haired dwarf had wiped down everything, placed fresh silks on the bed, and had even prepared a fire, for the room had been dark and cold.

Thorin immediately shed his heavy fur mantle and metal crown, placing them on the trunk situated at the end of the overly large bed. Next came his boots and tunic, "Shall I undress you, or would you prefer to give your king a show?" Thorin's voice filled the room, shaking Freyja out of her thoughts.

"W-what would you like?" She managed to choke out.

"Undress for me," Thorin decided as he took a seat on the edge of the mattress and unlaced his trousers, "Slowly."

Freyja stepped before the king but found that she could not look him in the eye. Instead, she watched her own fingers as they shakily began to unbutton her tunic. After the garment slid down her shoulders and fell to the floor, she moved on to her breeches. Freyja fumbled with the tightly tied knot for a moment or two until she finally managed to loosen it enough to push the breeches over her hips and down to the floor, leaving her in a breast band and panties.

Freyja couldn't contain the tears any longer. Large, heavy drops began to fall from her eyes and splashed against the stone floor beside her discarded clothing. A soft sob escaped her throat, breaking the silence between her and Thorin.

"Amrâlimê," Thorin cooed; it was the first time he had called her anything other than 'my queen' since she arrived at Erebor. Perhaps it was a sign that his old self was pushing through to the surface, "What is troubling you?"

Freyja could only respond with more sobs, for she was unable to form words. Thorin rose from the edge of the bed and approached her. His hands came up to hold her face, but she flinched from his touch, "Are you afraid of me?"

"Y-yes." Freyja admitted between sobs.

"Please, let me hold you. I would never hurt you, Freyja. I would never hurt my One," Thorin promised, slowly wrapping his arms around the shaking dwarrowdam. He pulled her against his bare chest gently, pleased that her body began to relax against his, "Take a moment to calm down, ghivashel, and then we can talk."

Freyja could hardly believe what she was hearing. It almost sounded as if her Thorin had returned, but she could not be sure. Could the gold sickness really disappear so quickly?

"Why are you afraid?" Thorin finally asked when Freyja's sobs had subsided, and her breathing had evened out. One of his hands was stroking her back softly while the other caressed the back of her head.

"This isn't like you, Thorin," Freyja told him, "You would never force me into doing anything that I wasn't comfortable with, but here you are, about to 'fuck me until I scream your name' against my wishes."

"You do not want me?"

"Not like this. Never like this."

"I can be gentle with you, amrâlimê. I can-,"

"No," Freyja interrupted, "You cannot. You have changed, Thorin. The treasure has driven you mad, just like it did to your grandfather."

Thorin stiffened against the dwarrowdam, clearly upset by her words, "I am not my grandfather."

"You have become greedy and selfish. You no longer care for your friends, or your kin, or me, for that matter," Freyja pulled back to glare into his eyes, "You only want them around to search for your precious Arkenstone during the day, and you only want me around to take your cock at night. You are only concerned for yourself and your treasure!"

"The Arkenstone must be returned to the throne. It is the Heart of the Mountain, the King's Jewel, an heirloom of the House of Durin," Thorin's voice had grown dangerously low, "It belongs to me, as does every other piece of treasure in this mountain!"

"Do you not hear yourself? You are no better than Smaug." Freyja spat, pushing Thorin away from her.

"How dare you compare me to that worm?!" Thorin snarled.

"Take a long look in a mirror, Thorin. Maybe then you will see!"

"Your behavior could be punishable by death," Thorin warned the dwarrowdam, "This is no way to speak to your king!"

"Then kill me! I would rather be dead than searching for that damned stone for all of eternity," Freyja was seething with anger, no longer embarrassed by her partial nakedness, "But just know that a stupid gem cannot and will not show you love, or affection, or kindness. It cannot replace your friends, your family, or me, but by the time you realize that it will be too late. No one will be left by your side."

Thorin did not speak another word. He was absolutely livid but would no longer waste his precious time arguing with the dwarrowdam. He brushed past her and went out the door, slamming it behind himself with a resounding boom. It was then that Freyja broke down into tears, her knees hit the stone floor and her face buried into the mattress of Thorin's bed. Powerful sobs wracked through her body; they had been so loud that she did not hear the door open, or footsteps approach her.

Hands were suddenly on her arms, gently hoisting her up off of the ground and onto the bed. It was Fili standing over her and tucking her beneath the soft, silk sheets, "Shh. It's alright, Freyja."

Fili sat on the edge of the bed and waited for his dear friend to calm down. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks were stained with salty tears. The sight nearly broke his heart.

"H-he-,"

"I know. I heard everything," Fili interrupted, "Balin sent me to look after you. He didn't..he didn't do anything to hurt you, did he?"

Freyja shook her head. Though Thorin's words had been poisonous, he had not laid a hand on her. Even if he was not truly himself, he would never touch her in anger.

"The Thorin we know and love is buried deep underneath the gold sickness. I don't know when he will return to us, or if he ever will, and neither does anyone else." Fili explained as Freyja began to compose herself. She wiped away the wetness on her cheeks and dabbed her eyes with the edge of one of the silk sheets.

"Are you saying that there is no way to fix this?"

"I am afraid so," Fili answered, "If you don't feel safe here and want to return home to Ered Luin, I would be more than willing to escort you back."

"No, I will be alright." Freyja decided, "Thorin is still there somewhere. When I began to cry, he softened, and he held me like he used to. There has to be a way to bring him back."

"We may just have to wait it out and see what happens."

"I can't leave him, Fili, I love him."

"I know you do, Freyja. We all do."

Fili settled against the pillows beside the dwarrowdam and opened his arm, inviting her into his embrace. Freyja rested her head against his shoulder and allowed him to give her what comfort he could. The pair sat in the bed for what felt like hours; the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire. Freyja wished that it were Thorin holding her this way, but it was very possible that he would never do so again.

Chapter Text

Balin eventually came to fetch Fili, for Thorin was still in a mad frenzy to find the Arkenstone and wanted everyone searching for it. The eldest prince reluctantly left Freyja but promised her that he would check in every so often.

Thorin had not returned to his bedchambers since he left all those hours ago. He had not come back for his discarded tunic, boots, or fur mantle; Freyja assumed he was likely freezing due to the cold mountain air, but he was probably too preoccupied with his treasure to notice.

Against her better judgement, Freyja got dressed and gathered the pile of clothing Thorin had left on the trunk at the end of the bed, including his crown. She left the peace of his bedchambers and stepped out into the hallway. Luckily, she had remembered the way back to the throne room, so she set off in that direction with an armful of Thorin's clothes.

When Freyja finally found herself in the throne room, she spotted Thorin seated upon it; his feet and torso were still bare. The others were nowhere in sight. The king sat upright when he noticed the dwarrowdam enter the room. His icy blue eyes were piercing as they watched her slowly step closer to his throne.

"Come to insult me further, have you?" He growled; his dark brows drawn together in anger. Thorin's fingers were gripping the ends of the stone arm rests so tightly that his knuckles were a pale white.

"No, I have come to apologize," Freyja lied. She was not sorry for speaking to him the way she had, but perhaps her kindness would help shake Thorin out of whatever trance he was stuck in, for her anger had not, "I've brought you your clothes, and your crown, my king."

"I do not want them." Thorin spat, looking away from the dwarrowdam who was now standing practically between his spread legs. He remembered every word she had said to him clearly. Every time he thought of them, he felt even more betrayed than ever before. He had thought that Freyja would be his queen, his wife, his lover, but she had made it clear that she did not want him. How could he forgive her?

"Please, Thorin," Freyja murmured, setting the clothing aside, only keeping his crown in her hands, "A king needs his crown, and his queen."

"First you toss me aside and now you want me back? What game are you playing?" Thorin pushed himself up and out of his seat, looming over Freyja so closely that their noses almost touched.

"I was foolish," Freyja admitted, hoping to persuade him. Freyja reached up and placed the black and gold circlet atop his head, her eyes flickering over his face. She loved his strong, bearded jaw, his thin lips and sharp nose, and the deep blue eyes set beneath dark, thick brows. Freyja lowered her hands to his cheeks and gently placed her palms against them, her thumbs smoothing the angry creases forming around his eyes, "I did not realize how important the Arkenstone was to you."

"That does not excuse what you said to me," Thorin's tone was still stern, but his features were beginning to soften beneath the warmth of her hands, "You accused me of not caring for you. Have I not proven my love for you in these past months?"

"You have. You absolutely have," Freyja leaned slightly closer and rubbed her nose gently against his, her lips nearly brushed his, "Please, forgive me, Thorin. Allow me to show you how sorry I am."

Thorin allowed Freyja to push him back gently onto his throne. He watched her with interest as she climbed onto his lap, sitting astride him. Freyja's hands rubbed against the hard muscles of his bare chest as she pressed her lips to his. She could tell that Thorin was fighting himself; part of him was still angry with her but the other part wanted to enjoy the feeling of his dwarrowdam sitting on his lap with her plump lips against his.

Freyja's hands began to wander down his chest, over his abdomen, and then stopped at the laces of his trousers; they were still slightly loosened. Thorin showed no signs of hesitation as she pulled his trousers open. He parted his lips for Freyja, allowing her to deepen the kiss as her hand reached into his trousers and closed around his hardening length. Thorin groaned low in his throat at feeling the soft flesh of her palm against him.

Freyja pulled Thorin's erection out of his trousers and began to pump her hand up and down, just like she had that night in Lake-town. She made sure to squeeze him tight, how he liked it most, as she worked. Thorin allowed his head to fall back against the stone backrest of the throne, exposing his throat to the dwarrowdam on his lap. Freyja leaned forward and placed sloppy kisses against the sensitive flesh, nipping here and there as she continued to stroke him. Thorin's hands moved from the armrests to the tops of Freyja's thighs, gripping them tightly.

When Thorin's hips began to thrust in time with her hand, Freyja slowed nearly to a stop, causing him to let out a frustrated groan that echoed through the massive throne room. He was nearing his end, but Freyja wasn't ready to let him finish just yet. There was something she wanted to try before that.

Freyja lowered herself from Thorin's lap, maintaining her grip on his cock as she dropped to the floor between his legs. Interested in her change in position, Thorin raised his head to look at her; his eyes locked with hers as she licked his length slowly from bottom to top, "Minx." Thorin chuckled, a hint of playfulness in his voice. It sounded like her Thorin was peeking through.

Freyja's mouth closed around the head of his cock, sucking lightly as her hand continued to move up and down on him. Feeling bold, she lowered her head and took more of him into her mouth, being careful not to graze her teeth against him. Clearly pleased, Thorin moaned and dug his hands into Freyja's dark tresses. He did not force her to go any further than she wanted, for he knew she had never performed such an act on a man before and was still getting used to the feel of him in her mouth.

Freyja began to work faster, taking more and more of him into her mouth as she went until he was hitting the back of her throat. At first, she nearly gagged at the feeling, but as she continued on, she grew accustomed to it. Thorin's hips were bucking slightly, a sure sign that he was close to completion.

"Oh, amrâlimê." The king moaned, gripping her hair harder. He continued to murmur filthy words of praise as he fucked her mouth. Thorin's moved faster and faster, until they stopped, and his thick seed spilled into the back of Freyja's throat. The dwarrowdam swallowed what she could and wiped the rest away with the back of her hand; the taste was salty but not unpleasant.

Thorin pulled Freyja off of the stone floor and onto his lap once again; his arms closing around her tightly. The king buried his face against her chest. She could feel him placing soft, gentle kisses along her collar bone. Freyja ran her fingers through his dark, silver-streaked mane of hair as she enjoyed the feeling of his warm lips against her skin.

"I would return the favor and taste you as well, but I must check on the company's progress at the main gates." Thorin told her.

"What are they doing there? I thought they would be searching for the Arkenstone."

"The people of Lake-town have taken up the ruins of Dale as their new home," Thorin answered, "It won't be long before they come for the gold that they foolishly believe is rightfully theirs."

"Bard told me that you promised them a share of the wealth, Thorin," Freyja recalled, "And they certainly need it now more than ever before. Why would you keep them out?"

"You have just earned my forgiveness, Freyja. Be careful not to lose it so quickly." Thorin stood, depositing the dwarrowdam on her feet. He quickly dressed himself in the clothes Freyja had brought him and made for the front gates of Erebor, leaving her alone.

...

The very next day, Bard came galloping across the lush fields on a white horse. Freyja, Bilbo, and the rest of the dwarves stood atop a balcony overlooking the makeshift barrier of stone they had built the day before, watching Bard dismount his steed.

"I have come to collect Lake-town's share of the gold." He called up to Thorin. Bard was now acting as Master, though he would not officially accept the title. The people of Lake-town looked up to him and admired him, and so they had elected him as their new leader.

Thorin descended the stairs of the balcony and peered through a hole in the stone barrier. Bard approached the opposite side, but the company could not hear the words being exchanged between the two leaders. Freyja prayed to Mahal that Thorin had had a change of heart and would open the gates to Bard and his people. They were in desperate need of gold, food, and water, all of which Erebor had.

Suddenly, Thorin's voice rose, "I will have war." He declared. Freyja watched as Bard pounded his fist against the stone wall and turned away. The man climbed atop his horse and took off in the opposite direction towards Dale.

The rest of the dwarves followed after Thorin, who was headed to the old armory in the depths of the mountain. Freyja stayed behind, gazing out over the landscape before her. War was coming, and soon the green fields of Erebor would be stained red with the blood of men, dwarves, and elves alike.

...

"Freyja, I am in need of some advice." A voice shook the dwarrowdam out of her worrisome thoughts. Bilbo was still standing there on the balcony with her and she had somehow failed to notice his presence.

"Of course, Bilbo. What is it?"

The hobbit stepped closer so that his shoulder was nearly against hers. He looked around as if he were nervous, or paranoid, and then reached into his coat and produced something large, white, and shimmery.

"Bilbo..." Freyja was in shock. In his hands sat the Arkenstone. The very thing that Thorin had been working them to the bone to locate, "How long?"

"Since we first arrived," Bilbo admitted. He told her how he had found it while talking back and forth with Smaug, "I have been debating with myself for some time now. I do not know whether I should give it to Thorin or not."

"I see your predicament. If you give it to Thorin, he will continue to be greedy and cause conflict with the people of Lake-town and Mirkwood."

"Precisely. It will only worsen the gold sickness, I fear," Bilbo tucked the stone back into his coat before anyone came along and saw it, "If I sneak out of Erebor and give it to Bard, however, they can use it as a way to bargain with Thorin."

"Their share of gold and Thranduil's gems for the Arkenstone," Freyja finished, "Brilliant, Bilbo. But how will you do it?" "I am thinking of sneaking off tonight after everyone has gone to sleep."

"Yes, you'll need to leave as soon as possible. Bard and Thranduil will surely be on Erebor's doorstep at dawn with an army at their backs."

"You will cover for me, then?"

"Absolutely."

...

That night when the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon and the moon had replaced it, Bilbo lowered himself down the stone wall with the help of Freyja and a rope made of cloth. The dwarrowdam watched as Bilbo ran across the field until he became a tiny dot, and then disappeared behind the walls of Dale. It was dangerous, what he was doing. If Thorin found out that it has been Bilbo who stole the Arkenstone and handed it to his enemies, he would have the hobbit executed.

"I told you that the view was beautiful, did I not?" Thorin's voice sounded from behind Freyja, causing her to jump in surprise. If he had come only a moment earlier, he may have caught Bilbo, "Though it pales in comparison to you."

"You never came to bed last night, my king," Freyja said without turning around to look at him, "I was waiting for you."

"I stayed up to search for the Arkenstone. Perhaps tonight you will allow me to make up for leaving you in bed alone," Thorin's chest pressed against her back; he placed a kiss on the top of her head, "I can start by giving you a gift."

"A gift?" Freyja turned around to find that he was holding something silver and metallic in one hand. He handed it to her, and she discovered that it was a tunic made of light weight metal. It was a piece of armor.

"Mithril. One of the rarest metals in all of Middle Earth," Thorin explained as she inspected the tunic, "It is light weight and impenetrable. No sword can pierce it."

"Why are you giving this to me?" Freyja asked, though she already knew the answer.

"War is coming. This will protect you."

"I want you to have it, Thorin," Freyja pushed the tunic into his hands again, refusing to hold it any longer, "You are the King Under the Mountain. You are the one who needs to be protected at all costs. If you are to die, Erebor will be left without a leader. Fili will have no one to guide him, the dwarves will have no one to follow, and I will no longer have my One."

"No-,"

"Yes," Freyja interrupted, "Please, take it. You are king and more important than I."

Thorin's eyes searched Freyja's for a few moments before he finally nodded in acceptance, "I will wear it if it makes you happy, ghivashel."

Freyja's eyes flickered over Thorin's face. He was being kinder and gentler than he had ever been since arriving at Erebor. Perhaps the gold sickness was beginning to leave him? Freyja felt hopeful as she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes to give Thorin a kiss. He responded in kind, moving his lips against hers slowly.

"What else can I do to make things up to you, my love?" Thorin wondered, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his body. Freyja rested her head against his chest and inhaled deeply. She had always loved the musky, pine smell of him, and the warmth of his body. Though Freyja knew that this was still not her Thorin, she couldn't help but to feel safe and content in his arms. Tomorrow Bard, Thranduil, and their combined army would come, and there would be war unless Bilbo was somehow able to convince them otherwise. Freyja knew in the back of her mind that this would be the last night that she ever shared with Thorin, whether he was his true self or not, and she would enjoy it.

"Just hold me for a while, please." Freyja buried her face into the soft cloth of his tunic, fighting back tears. Thorin obeyed her wishes; the couple stood there on the balcony overlooking the gates of Erebor until the moon had risen high into the night sky, wrapped in each other's arms for one last time.

Chapter Text

As she had expected, Freyja could not sleep. Thorin had abandoned her yet again to search for the Arkenstone even though she had begged him to stay. The dwarrowdam's face was buried against the soft, downy pillow, surely staining it with her tears. She had thought that Thorin was beginning to return to his old self, but she had gotten her hopes up too soon.

When she heard the large, wooden doors of Thorin's bedchambers open, she did not lift her head from the pillow. Freyja did not care to see anyone at the moment.

"I've come to check on you," Fili's voice broke the silence, "Seeing as how Thorin doesn't care to."

"I'm tired, Fili.." Freyja said against the pillow as she listened to his footsteps approach her side of the bed. The prince's hand rested atop her head, smoothing her tousled hair.

"Yet you cannot sleep. Neither can I. Or any of the others."

"It's difficult to get any sleep when you know that war is coming." Freyja finally lifted herself off of the pillow into a sitting position, patting the space beside her legs, inviting Fili to have a seat. He obliged, propping one leg up on the edge of the bed and letting the other dangle down the side of it.

"I know you were hopeful that Thorin was overcoming the gold sickness," Fili said, leaning forward to brush away a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb, "I was, too. I thought that he seemed somewhat normal yesterday evening, but when he declared war against the people of Lake-town today I knew I was wrong."

"It doesn't matter any longer," Freyja muttered, "We will all die tomorrow, including Thorin. Even if-," She stopped herself, briefly forgetting that her and Bilbo's plan was to be kept a secret. She wondered where the hobbit was and if he had been successful in making a deal with Thranduil and Bard.

"Even if Dain Ironfoot receives our plea for help? You are probably right." Fili finished, though it was not what Freyja had been expecting to hear. She had not known that a letter had been sent to the King of the Iron Hills.

"Let's hope he arrives in time. Now that Smaug is out of the picture he might be more willing to lend us his army."

"If he does, we'll stand a much better chance against Thranduil, Bard, and their combined army," Fili added, "Dwarves are some of the best warriors in Middle Earth, after all."

Freyja turned her body so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Fili, her legs crossed beneath her. Fili placed his arm around her, as he always did, and gave her a comforting squeeze. The dwarrowdam rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, trying her very best to keep any more tears from spilling.

"I lost my mother, and then my father," Freyja started, her voice breaking as she went, "I had no family, and then I met you obnoxious, smelly, wonderful dwarves. You've become my new family, and I refuse to let any of you go."

"Whatever happens tomorrow, I am thankful that I was able to meet you and share this adventure with you," Fili rested his head against hers, "You have been a good friend to me, my brother, our uncle, and the rest of the company, even when some of us have not given you the same courtesy lately."

"Oh, Fili..." Freyja sniffled, the tears beginning to fall once again.

"Shh. Rest now. I won't leave you."

"Tomorrow you might have to. For good."

"Perhaps. But for now, we are still alive and well. Let us enjoy the peace while it lasts."

For a long while the pair sat together, their eyes closed and their heads resting against one another. Freyja was thankful to have Fili as such a caring, loyal friend, but she found herself wondering why it couldn't have been him that she fell in love with. Why couldn't her One have been such a kind, wonderful dwarf instead of a king riddled with gold sickness? That wasn't how love worked, she supposed. Even though her One had turned into a cruel, greedy dwarf, she still found herself aching for him in every way. Freyja still loved Thorin, and she always would, no matter what happened the next day.

...

Bilbo had returned early in the morning, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. Freyja had been waiting for him eagerly at the balcony. When she pulled him up and over the edge, she fired question after question at him, "What happened? What did they say? Will they make a bargain with us?"

"They have the Arkenstone. The army is leaving Dale as we speak," Bilbo puffed, almost completely out of breath from his run, "Bard will present the Arkenstone to Thorin and try to bargain with him. If he still refuses to pay Thranduil and the people of Lake-town what they are owed, there will be war."

"I don't see Thorin refusing the Arkenstone for some white gems and a pile of gold."

"Let's hope he doesn't."

...

Sure enough, the army slowly but surely neared the gates of Erebor. At the head of the sea of warriors, Thranduil and Bard could be seen riding atop an elk and a white horse. Freyja had not seen the Elvenking before, but it was clear that Legolas was indeed his son. Thranduil's hair was white blonde and its length rivaled even her own hair. A pair of clear blue eyes sat beneath thick brows, and an elegantly crafted metal circlet was atop his head.

By the time Thranduil, Bard, and the army of elves stopped before the gates, the rest of the company had arrived at the balcony. Each of the dwarves wore a full suit of armor, varying in weight and style. Freyja had settled for a simple silver breastplate with matching grieves, gauntlets, and boots. She had picked out two swords as her weapons of choice; a dagger was also tucked into her boot in case she found herself disarmed. Bilbo had opted to not wear any armor, for he was so small and nimble he hardly needed it.

Suddenly, Thorin barked an order in Khuzdul at his youngest nephew. Kili nocked an arrow and let it fly; it sunk into the ground beside the feet of Thranduil's elk. A warning shot.

Thranduil raised a hand, and his army reacted quickly, smoothly, and in complete synchronicity. A line of archers moved to the front of the group and nocked their arrows, aiming directly at the balcony.

"We are giving you one final chance, Thorin Oakenshield," Bard spoke up, "Give us what was promised, and we shall leave."

"You will have nothing. I will not part with a single piece of gold. Not one!" Thorin shouted, his eyes ablaze with anger. Freyja looked over to Bilbo, their eyes met; they found fear in each other's gazes.

"Not even for this?" Bard reached into his coat and produced the large, beautiful, shimmering stone that Bilbo had shown Freyja the day before. The dwarves gasped, their mouths opened in shock, immediately recognizing the stone.

"The Arkenstone," Thorin whispered to himself, a look of confusion upon his face, "Where did you get that?!" He demanded.

"We found it," Bard lied, "Now, will you give us what was promised in return for the Arkenstone?"

"Impossible. You are lying!" Thorin growled, "The Arkenstone is inside the mountain; this is a trick!"

"Actually, I gave it to them." Bilbo spoke up. Thorin's head snapped in the hobbit's direction. The dwarf king pushed through his company, heading for the small creature with murder in his eyes. Freyja forced herself between him and Bilbo, her hands pushing against the angry dwarf's chest.

"It was all my idea, Thorin!" Freyja exclaimed, hoping and praying that he would believe her and punish her instead. Bilbo would not stand a chance against Thorin in a fight, but Freyja knew she could. She was more than willing to take whatever Thorin was going to unleash on the hobbit.

"Get out of my way! I know where your loyalties lie. Do not think that you can fool me into thinking that you did this!"

"Bilbo is the one who gave them the Arkenstone, but it was I that told him to do it!"

"Throw him from the ramparts!" Thorin commanded as he pushed Freyja out of the way and clutched the front of Bilbo's coat. The dwarf pressed Bilbo against the side of the balcony and then laid him over top of it, when suddenly a different voice called out.

"Unhand my burglar!" Gandalf demanded, "If you no longer want him, give him to me, unharmed!"

Thorin reluctantly let Bilbo go, and the hobbit scrambled to the makeshift rope that he and Freyja had constructed. He let himself down the side of the barrier as Fili hoisted Freyja up and off of the stone floor of the balcony. Upon rising, she could see that Gandalf had indeed returned, for he was sitting atop his horse alongside Thranduil and Bard. Bilbo had safely made it to them as well.

Before anyone else could speak, a raven cawed and then landed atop the edge of the balcony. In the distance, marching could be heard, "Dain has come." Fili said with hope in his voice. As an army of dwarves appeared over a hill in the east, the company began to cheer. Their savior had arrived.

Though Dain was Thorin's cousin, they looked nothing alike. Dain Ironfoot was short, stout, and red-headed whereas Thorin was tall, broad, and dark-haired. They shared the same bad temper, though, that much was clear as Freyja listened to him taunt the army of elves that had turned to face him instead of the gates of Erebor.

As the dwarves and elves stood off, a deep groan came from somewhere in the distance, silencing Dain's foolish taunts. Suddenly something large and worm like burst through the ground behind the army of elves, clear at the opposite end of the field from where the company stood on the balcony. Two more of the same creatures appeared from beneath the ground, leaving gigantic holes from which orcs began to crawl out of. Another army had come to join the fight, but they had no allies. The orcs had come to kill Thorin and take Erebor.

...

The company watched in horror as the dwarves charged the orcs, who were still emerging from the massive holes the worms had left in the ground. Thranduil's elves made no move to join their attack.

A long line of dwarves knelt before the oncoming army of orcs, forming a wall of shields and extending long spears through the openings. Any orc that attempted to pierce the makeshift wall would surely be impaled, but they still continued to run toward it. Suddenly, a group of Thranduil's swordsmen jumped from behind the dwarves' wall and met the orcs, engaging in battle. The war had begun, but the sides had changed. It had been elves and men versus dwarves, and now it was all three against the orcs.

Thorin watched as his cousin and his army took on the horde of orcs but made no move to join them. The company was growing impatient, as they were eager to get down there and fight.

"Thorin, aren't we going to fight?" Kili wondered. Thorin did not answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and descended the stairs, retreating further into the mountain. The rest of the company followed, stopping at the barrier they had created and watching their leader disappear into the throne room.

"Someone needs to talk some sense into him!" Dwalin decided, nearly about to follow after Thorin himself, but Freyja gripped his arm, holding him back.

"I'll do it."

...

Freyja found Thorin sitting on his throne, still dressed in his extravagant armor and crown even though he had seemingly decided not to fight.

"The Thorin Oakenshield I know would never hide from a fight." Freyja said softly, shaking Thorin out of whatever thoughts were running through his head. His icy blue eyes watched the dwarrowdam as she approached the throne and came to a stop before it. She looked like a true warrior, dressed in gleaming armor with her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid she had woven herself.

"My cousin seems to have things under control." Thorin answered.

"We are outnumbered even with Thranduil's army," Freyja informed him, "The orcs will overtake Dale and then come for Erebor."

Thorin did not speak after that. It was clear that he had made his choice, but Freyja would not leave until she had spoken her mind.

"You can continue to cower here if you'd like, but I will lead your company out of the gates and onto the battlefield if you will not," Freyja's voice was stern and her eyes piercing, "We have traveled long and far to retake this mountain and I will not idly stand by and let these orcs have it. Neither will your nephews or the rest of the company."

Thorin looked away from the dwarrowdam standing before him, but she continued to speak, "The Thorin that I fell in love with would not allow anyone to fight for him. He would be out there defending his homeland alongside his family and his friends, but the Thorin I love is long gone and a coward has taken his place. I can see that now."

Freyja left before she began to cry, making for the front gates of Erebor. She found the company where she had left them, "Dismantle the barrier. We will fight with or without Thorin Oakenshield."

...

As the company worked to knock down the stone barrier they had built only days before, footsteps sounded from the hallway leading from the throne room. The dwarves turned to find Thorin emerging from the darkness; his heavy metal armor and crown were nowhere to be seen. He wore a simple, lightweight outfit with a black overcoat and a sword in hand. He no longer looked like a king, but his normal self.

"Thorin, I will not sit here while others fight out battles for us-," Kili started.

"No, you won't," Thorin placed a hand on his youngest nephew's shoulder with a fond smile on his face, "We are Durin's folk, and Durin's folk do not flee from a fight."

Freyja could not believe what she was seeing and hearing. Thorin had completely transformed in the short time that she had been away. When the dwarf king looked away from Kili, his eyes immediately found Freyja. It was as if for the first time since arriving in Erebor he could see her clearly, for his mind had been clouded by thoughts of greed and selfishness in the past days. He remembered the way he had spoken to her, the way he had nearly taken her against her will during her first night in Erebor. Thorin had mistreated his queen and knew that he would never deserve her forgiveness.

"Amrâlimê," Thorin whispered as he neared Freyja, "I am so sorry for all I have done."

"It's really you." Freyja breathed, reaching up to stroke his bearded jaw with her hands. Thorin's hands came around her wrists, the fabric of his leather gloves rubbing against the metal of her gauntlets.

"Yes." He smiled down at his dwarrowdam, resting his forehead against her own.

"Oh, Thorin. I've missed you." Freyja murmured before placing her lips against his. He finally felt and tasted like the dwarf she had fallen in love with all those months ago. Her Thorin had returned.

"I was cruel to you," Thorin said after breaking the kiss, "I hurt you. You would still have me even after all I have done to wrong you?"

"You are my One, Thorin." Freyja answered simply. It was all she had to say, for everything he needed to know was in her eyes. She still loved him, though he didn't believe that he deserved it. Thorin took her lips into a more urgent kiss, enjoying the feeling of her body against his before he had to pull away once again.

"I cannot promise you that I will survive, amrâlimê," He told her, "But if I do, I will marry you and spend the rest of my life treating you like the queen you are."

"I know you will, Thorin. I love you."

"And I love you, my little mountain troll," Thorin placed a kiss upon her forehead before turning to face the rest of his company, "Will you follow me one last time?"

Chapter Text

Thorin led his company through the gates of Erebor and onto the battlefield with a mighty war cry. The dwarves charged into the sea of warriors with their swords, axes, and hammers raised, prepared to cut down any and all orcs that they came across. The battle was already in progress, for the elves and Dain's army of dwarves had been fighting against the orcs while Thorin had been recovering from his sickness. The field was already littered with the bodies and blood of many elves, dwarves, and orcs alike.

When Thorin approached his cousin, Dain, the two leaders shared a brief hug and then continued to fight the orcs surrounding them with ease. Freyja had no time to admire her One's fluid sword work, for she had her own battle to fight. She had never been up so close and personal with an orc, and she found that they were intimidatingly tall compared to herself. Though they were nearly thrice her size, the dwarrowdam fought without fear alongside her friends.

The battle began to seem like it would never end. The combined army of elves, dwarves, and men were cutting through the orcs, but they still continued to emerge from the giant worm holes. People were beginning to tire and make mistakes, which ultimately led to their demise.

Eventually, Freyja caught sight of Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin leaving the battlefield. They we're heading to Ravenhill, which was southward of the mountain, overlooking Dale and Erebor alike. No one inhabited the ruins; only ravens, which gave the hill its namesake. What could they possibly be going there for?

"Azog is up there. Thorin's taken his best warriors with him." Bilbo's voice suddenly sounded from beside Freyja. The hobbit was sweating, and his chest was heaving, much like Freyja's. Sting, which was the name he had chosen for his sword after encountering the spiders in Mirkwood, was grasped firmly in his small hands, blood soaked and glowing blue.

"He didn't take me."

"He wants you safe."

"You call this safe?" Freyja motioned to the chaos around them, "I'm going after them."

"I'll come with you." Bilbo decided, taking off at a run behind the dwarrowdam. Together they made for Ravenhill, where Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin were preparing to face off with Azog the Defiler.

...

By the time Freyja and Bilbo had reached Ravenhill, the dwarves had scattered in search of Azog, for he and his orcs were nowhere to be found, "I'm going to search the upper levels. Are you coming with me or staying here?" Freyja inquired as she and Bilbo stood in the shadow of one of Ravenhill's many stone ruins.

"I'll stay down here and call for you if I see anything." Bilbo told her. With a nod, Freyja entered the ruins slowly, her sword at the ready. All was quiet as she climbed the stone stairwell, until she rounded a corner and found a tall, pale figure standing at the end of the hallway, looking out over the frozen lake of Ravenhill. There stood Azog the Defiler with Fili in one hand, his bladed arm pressed against the dwarf's back.

Slowly and quietly, Freyja approached Azog from behind as he spoke, surely taunting Thorin who was standing below. Azog moved to impale Fili through the chest, but Freyja acted first, slashing her sword along the orc's already scarred back. With a pained yell, Azog dropped Fili over the edge of the ruins. Luckily, he had managed to grasp the stone ledge before falling to the ice below.

Azog turned on Freyja, forgetting all about the blonde prince who was still hanging on the stone ledge behind him. Freyja raised her blade in defense, preparing for Azog's attack, but the sound of Kili's voice stopped him, "Drop down, Fili! We'll catch you!"

Azog whipped around once more, but Fili was already gone. He had certainly landed in safety of Kili and Bilbo's arms. Taking advantage of the pale orc's vulnerability, Freyja rushed forward and pushed against him with all of her weight, sending him falling over the edge after Fili. He did not fall to the ice, however. The orc had managed to grasp onto the ledge a level below her, preventing his death.

Azog lowered himself to the fozen lake as Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Bilbo began to fight off his army of orcs. No longer concerned with Freyja or the brothers, the pale orc turned to Thorin, who was standing alone on the frozen lake. The dwarf king briefly locked eyes with the dwarrowdam and gave her a nod out of respect. She had saved his eldest nephew and heir to the throne of Erebor.

Freyja quickly descended from the ruins and joined her friends in battle. Together the five of them fought off every orc that they could, keeping them away from Thorin and Azog, who had begun their own duel atop the thick ice of the lake. The dwarrowdam tried her very best to keep her attention fully on her own battle, but she kept stealing quick glances over at her One and Azog. She paid for it when the hilt of a sword came down on the back of her head, knocking her out cold.

...

When Freyja's eyes finally fluttered open again, the chaos around her had ceased. Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and Bilbo were somewhere nearby, for she could still hear their voices and their swords against the orcs'. They had managed to move the fight away from her unconscious body so that no further harm would come to her.

There on the frozen lake stood Thorin, though he was now alone, and the ice had a large gaping hole in it. Azog had fallen through the ice and was surely dead. With a smile on her lips, Freyja lifted herself from the cold ground and onto her feet, collecting her fallen sword as she went. Suddenly, the sound of ice cracking and water splashing caused her head to snap in a Thorin's direction.

The dwarf king let out an ear shattering yell, his head thrown back. Azog's sword had burst through the surface of the thick layer of ice and had pierced directly through Thorin's foot. Freyja scrambled onto the ice, but it was too late. Azog had emerged from the water and had Thorin pinned, his blade pointed down at the dwarf's chest. Thorin was pushing against Azog's sword with his own with all of his might, but the tip of the blade inched closer to his chest with every second.

"No!" Freyja screamed as Thorin allowed Azog's blade to come down on his chest. Thinking he had won, that he had finally murdered the dwarf that had taken his arm so long ago, Azog relaxed and leaned back. Taking advantage of Azog's foolish mistake, Thorin pushed his own sword up and into his chest. Tears began to stain Freyja's cheeks; Thorin had killed Azog, but at his own expense.

Azog's lifeless body rolled off of Thorin and onto the cold, hard ice. Thorin continued to lay beside him, completely exhausted and in a great deal of pain. Freyja ran across the lake, being careful to avoid the large holes Azog had created and knelt at her One's side. The dwarrowdam ripped open his tunic, prepared to do everything she could to stop the bleeding or stitch him up, and found that he was wearing the mithril armor that he had tried to give to her. The metal was intact, as was Thorin. There was no blood to speak of.

With a broken sob, Freyja rested her head against Thorin's chest. She felt his hands come up to rest against the back of her head, holding her against him, "I am here, ghivashel." He reassured her quietly, his voice hoarse.

"I forgot about the mithril. I thought you were dead." She managed to choke out.

"I would have been if you hadn't told me to keep it," Thorin told her, "It seems you've saved both Fili and me all in one day."

"Freyja!" Bilbo called as he scrambled across the ice towards them, "Is he alright?"

"Yes, but we need-," The sound of a familiar caw run out, echoing through the ruins of Ravenhill. The eagles that had saved them just outside of Goblin Town had returned to help them once again, "Where's Fili, Kili, and Dwalin?"

"Fili is well, but Kili suffered a stab wound. He would have been dead if it weren't for that red-haired elf. I sent Dwalin to get Oin and the rest of the company," Bilbo explained in a rush, "The blonde elf was here as well. I saw him toss Orcrist to Thorin after Azog had disarmed him."

Thorin was clearly struggling to maintain consciousness, for he had lost a great deal of blood from the wound in his foot, "Stay with me, Thorin. Oin is on his way."

"I love you, amrâlimê." He whispered before his eyes began to flutter shut.

Chapter Text

After the company's arrival, Thorin was hoisted from the ground and carried quickly back to Erebor by his dwarf companions. Kili had already been taken back to the mountain by Tauriel and Fili, thankfully. He and Thorin were in rough shape but would likely return to health after a couple of weeks in bed.

Freyja lagged far behind the group of dwarves alongside Bilbo. Together they wandered back to the mountain at their own pace with Gandalf at their backs. The battlefield was strewn with the dead and injured; blood painted the once green grass. Many had died, but the orc army had been slaughtered, and those who had survived were forced to retreat. Erebor was once again safe and in the hands of the dwarves.

"This has been the adventure of a lifetime," Bilbo finally spoke, "I don't think I'll be traveling anywhere again for a very long time, if ever."

"You won't come back to visit us someday?" Freyja wondered. Now that Thorin was rid of his gold sickness and was rightfully King Under the Mountain, she would stay with him and the rest of the company to rebuild Erebor.

"Perhaps. I hear there may be a wedding in the near future, so I may consider attending." Bilbo nudged Freyja with his elbow as they walked along. She couldn't help but grin down at the hobbit, who was sweat soaked and covered in grime. The dwarrowdam felt just as disgusting as Bilbo looked, but she was happy, nonetheless. Her friends had survived the battle. That was all she could have asked for.

"I would love you to come. When and if said wedding actually happens."

"I will be eagerly awaiting my invitation."

"As will I, my dear." Gandalf added, placing one hand on both Freyja and Bilbo's shoulders from behind.

"How could I ever forget about you, Gandalf?" Freyja chucked, "You are the very reason I ever joined this company or met Thorin in the first place."

"I knew that you would fit in wonderfully with the group, and the same goes for Bilbo."

"Fit in wonderfully?" Bilbo scoffed, "Thorin didn't even begin to like me until we were halfway to the mountain, but he's liked Freyja since that very first night in my dining room."

"What matters is that he likes you at all, and now that the quest has been successful, he will surely like you even more." Gandalf assured the hobbit.

"The last time we spoke he nearly threw me from the ramparts," Bilbo reminded Gandalf as they neared the gates of Erebor. The very ramparts he mentioned could be seen from where they were, "I doubt he will forgive me for giving the Arkenstone to the enemy. I practically committed treason against him."

"If he still wishes to punish you for that, then he must punish me as well. I agreed to the plan and helped you carry through with it," Freyja added, "But now that the gold sickness is gone and things seem to be stable between us, the elves, and the men of Lake-town, I doubt he will care much."

"As long as Bard still hasn't lost the stone, I am sure you are right about that." Gandalf said from behind them.

"If he still has it, he'll surely propose the same deal to Thorin." Bilbo guessed.

"He will. The people of Lake-town need gold and supplies, and Thranduil still wants his precious white gems. Now that Thorin is in his right mind once again, I hope he will take the deal. It would be the right decision to make." Freyja explained as they entered the gates of Erebor. ...

The dwarrowdam had thought that perhaps the chaos would have died down now that the battle was over, but it had seemed to increase. Those who were not injured were constantly exiting the mountain and then returning with as many injured warriors as they could. Others were scrambling through the halls of Erebor, heading for the kitchens and bedchambers to prepare them for cooking and sleeping; the armies of Mirkwood, the Iron Hills, and Lake-town needed hot meals and soft beds to sleep upon as they recovered.

"I'd best collect my things and be off." Bilbo said as he took in their surroundings. He was no longer needed, for he had fulfilled his end of the contract. The hobbit was eager to return home to Bag End, though he would miss his new friends.

"So soon? At least take a night to rest, Bilbo." Freyja was surprised that he was leaving so quickly. She had hoped that he would stay a day or two longer.

"I would only be in the way if I stayed," The hobbit told her, "It's time for me to go home to my armchair, my books, and my garden."

"Safe travels, then, Bilbo Baggins," Freyja wrapped her arms around the hobbit and squeezed him tightly, for she would miss the hobbit, "I am so happy to have met you, and I hope to see you again soon."

"The feeling is mutual, Freyja," Bilbo said, his arms coming around her armor-clad body to return her embrace, "If you're ever in Bag End, tea is at four. My door is always open to you, as is my pantry."

When the dwarrowdam and hobbit finally released each other from their shared embrace, they gave each other a warm smile, and then Bilbo was disappearing through the crowd to collect his share of the treasure and bid the rest of the company farewell. Gandalf remained at Freyja's side, "I will escort him home to make sure he gets there safely."

"I think that would be wise." Freyja answered, looking up at the wizard.

"I trust you will look after the dwarves and keep them in line, especially Thorin."

"Of course, Gandalf." Freyja assured him.

"Good," The wizard grinned at the dwarrowdam and gave her shoulder a squeeze, "Now, I must be off, my dear. I will see you soon, but until then, I will eagerly be awaiting my invitation."

"Goodbye, Gandalf, and thank you for everything."

...

After Gandalf and Bilbo had departed from Erebor enroute to Bag End, Freyja searched the halls until she finally came across a familiar face. Balin was walking at the head of a large group of dwarves who seemed to be in charge of cleaning out old bedchambers for the injured. The white-haired dwarf had a long piece of parchment in his hands and a quill in the other; it was surely a list of things to be done, if Freyja had to guess. Balin was one of the most responsible and organized dwarves she had ever met.

"Ah, lass! Oin is in need of help tending to the wounded," Balin called as he passed the dwarrowdam. He had hardly even taken his eyes off the parchment he carried; how could he have even noticed Freyja? "The infirmary is just down the hall. You'd best get there as quickly as you can."

Not wasting another minute, Freyja jogged down the hall and found herself in an entire wing of bedchambers that were acting as a makeshift infirmary. Each room seemed to have been dusted and spruced up enough to be hospitable for the injured warriors. The dwarrowdam found Oin at the bedside of an elf with a rather nasty gash that ran down the side of his face.

"There you are. I've been looking for you," Oin informed her as he tended to the elf's wounds, cleaning them thoroughly with water before beginning to stitch them up, "Get that armor off, clean yourself up, and help wherever you can, please. We've got more and more coming in by the minute."

"Where are Thorin and Kili?" Freyja wondered as she began to discard her armor, setting the metal pieces on the floor, not quite caring where they ended up.

"They're in a more private location. I've already seen to them, and they'll be just fine in time," Oin assured her, "Fili is looking after them, so you need not worry. You can visit them for yourself when we are finished here."

...

Their work was not finished for a long, long time. For hours Freyja, Oin, and any available healers from Thranduil, Bard, or Dain's army tended to those who were injured or sick. It seemed as if whenever she finished stitching a gash or applying a salve, someone else was rolled into the infirmary with an even more severe injury for her to fix up. She had seen hundreds of patients with no break, and she was beginning to grow tired. Her clothing and hands were stained with the blood of their wounds and her brow was constantly soaked with beads of sweat, but she could not quit until everyone had been treated. She would not allow there to be any more deaths when so many had died already.

Eventually, the flow of injured warriors began to slow, and Oin dismissed her, for he could see how exhausted the dwarrowdam was. Knowing that she wanted to see Thorin, Fili, and Kili before she tended to her own needs, he pointed her in the direction of the bedchamber they were resting in. Freyja made her way to there as quickly as her sore feet would carry her, and when she arrived, she pushed the door open gently as to not wake them in case they were asleep.

As she expected, both Thorin and Kili were fast asleep in their own separate beds, and Fili was nodding off in an armchair between them. The king and the youngest prince had both been impaled by orc blades; Thorin in his foot and Kili in his side, but Oin had managed to stop the bleeding and close the wounds before too much blood was lost. Kili had narrowly escaped death, for the blade had just missed some of his most vital organs according to Oin.

"Fili," Freyja whispered as she approached the armchair he sat in. The poor prince was absolutely exhausted; his head was resting in his hand, which looked terribly uncomfortable. Fili's eyes snapped open in surprise at the sound of Freyja's voice, as if he had been half asleep, "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up and head to bed? I've heard that Balin has had all of the rooms in the royal wing prepared for members of the company."

"Are you sure, Freyja?" Fili asked quietly as to not wake his brother or uncle, taking in Freyja's bloody appearance, "You look like you need it more than I do."

"I'm positive. Go get some sleep, Fee."

"You've been saving lives all day, including mine. You deserve a rest."

"Please," Freyja motioned for the eldest prince to stand and be on his way, "I can handle another couple of hours being awake. Go on."

Fili rose from the armchair and immediately tugged the dwarrowdam into a tight hug, catching her slightly off guard, for she hadn't been expecting it. The prince kept her there for what felt like an entire minute, simply holding her in his arms, and she held him in hers, "If you hadn't been there, Freyja..." His voice was quiet and nearly broken as he spoke against her messy, unwinding hair.

"I know, Fili. I know." She answered, tears stinging her eyes. Fili had been in Azog's hand, a blade pressed against his back. If Freyja hadn't stepped in when she did, the eldest prince and heir to the throne would have been impaled through the chest, leaving Kili without a brother and Thorin without one of his nephews.

"I cannot even begin to thank-," Fili started.

"You don't have to thank me, Fili, " Freyja interrupted, pulling back to look him in the eyes, "Friends look after each other. I know that if it had been me dangling over the edge of that ruin with the tip of a blade pressed between my shoulders, you would have done the same."

"I will never forget it, Freyja. Never." Fili pressed a kiss to her forehead, not caring about the dried sweat there.

"I know you won't. Now off to bed with you."

"Is there any way I can make it up-,"

"I said off to bed with you, Fili. Don't make me wake your uncle."

"Fine, fine," Fili finally gave in and made for the door, "Goodnight, Freyja."

"Goodnight, Fili."

...

After Fili had left for his own bedchamber, Freyja took his place in the armchair he had been sitting in. First, she gazed over at Kili and took in his appearance. The poor prince was covered in a sheen of sweat and was surely in a great deal of pain despite the amount of medicine in his system. He tossed and turned a bit as he slept, but he did not wake.

Then Freyja looked over to her One, who seemed to be in a much deeper and restful sleep. Thorin was dressed in a set of clean, loose bedclothes and his injured foot was thoroughly wrapped. The king's head was propped up against a pillow; his dark, raven hair contrasted against the bright white of the cushion beneath it. It looked as if Oin had managed to wipe most of the blood and grime from the parts of Thorin's body that she could see, but he was still in need of a deep scrubbing, which gave the dwarrowdam an idea for some time in the near future.

As if he had felt his One's eyes on him, Thorin's own eyes fluttered open and rested on Freyja's face. Even covered in sweat and blood with her hair a complete mess, she was radiant, "You should be in bed, ghivashel." Thorin broke the silence, his voice was raspy and still a bit hoarse from sleep.

"Even though I am practically dead on my feet, I wouldn't have been able to fall asleep until I knew that you and Kili were well." Freyja told him, standing up from her seat in the armchair to move to his bedside. Thorin reached for her hand and took it in his, placing a gentle kiss against her palm.

"Now that you know we are alive, you should return to our bedchambers and get some rest," Freyja's heart fluttered at hearing him refer to the king's bedchambers as theirs, "You spent most of the day in battle and the rest of it tending to the injured, I can see. You need sleep, amrâlimê."

"You seem eager to get rid of me," Freyja noticed, "Is it because I smell?"

"No," Thorin answered with a chuckle, "I want you well rested for when I return to our bedchambers, because you certainly won't be getting any sleep when I do."

"Thorin Oakenshield, if you weren't injured, I might have hit you for that."

"Save that for when I am healed," Thorin told her with a hint of playfulness in his otherwise tired voice, "I like it rough."

"I can't tell if this is simply the drugs speaking or if you are actually being serious." Freyja grinned down at her One, her hand still clasped in his.

"You will find out sooner or later."

"Sooner rather than later, I hope," Freyja said, her tone growing more serious, "Do you have any idea how long you and Kili will be here?"

"I should be released in a day or two; I'll just need to keep the weight off of my foot until it's healed," Thorin answered, "As for Kili, he will be here much longer. His wound was much more serious and will need to be looked after more closely than mine."

"I want to stay here with you until-,"

"No," Thorin interrupted her, "You are exhausted; I can see it in your eyes and hear it in your voice. Go to our chambers, draw yourself a hot bath, and then get some sleep. I will be with you before the week is over."

"You haven't slept beside me in such a long time," Freyja told him, brushing the pad of her thumb against his hand, "I miss you, and your warmth, and your arms around me."

"You must wait another night, ghivashel, but then you will have me every night for the rest of your life after that," Thorin sat up and gently tugged Freyja down to press his lips against hers in a gentle kiss, "Go and rest."

Freyja kissed her One again slowly, savoring the feeling of his lips for a moment longer before pulling away, "Fine, I will go."

"I love you, Freyja. Always remember that."

"I love you, too, Thorin," Freyja reluctantly let go of his hand and made for the door, "Goodnight." She said before gently closing it behind her and making for their bedchambers. Though she desperately wanted him beside her when she went to sleep that night, she was content with knowing that he had survived the battle and was on his way to recovery. He had been right, she thought to herself. They had the rest of their lives to spend together, and she would be able to fall asleep in his arms every night once he had recovered. With a blissful sigh, Freyja opened the doors to her and Thorin's shared bedchambers and prepared herself for sleep.

Chapter Text

Freyja had thought that after over a year of travel and fighting against some of Middle Earth's most dangerous creatures she would be out like a light once her head hit the pillow. Instead, she found herself tossing and turning in Thorin's lavish silk sheets. Every time she began to fall asleep, visions of orcs, giant spiders, and goblins riddled her dreams. In one instance she found herself watching Fili, Kili, and Thorin all being impaled by Azog's blade and woke up with tears staining her cheeks.

After calming herself down, Freyja laid back against the pillows and shut her eyes once again, hoping that this time she would be able to stay asleep. Thorin is alive and just a few minutes away, she reminded herself. There was no reason to worry any longer.

The dwarrowdam wasn't sure of how much time had passed since she last closed her eyes, but once again she was awake. This time, however, it had not been a nightmare that had woken her, but the groan of the old, wooden doors at the opposite end of the bedchambers as they opened.

Freyja peeked her head from underneath the covers and watched as two figures entered the room and made for the bed. It was clear that they were men, but in the darkness she couldn't make out their features. Both were tall, but one of them was leaning on the other for support as they walked.

"You're going to wake Freyja with all this ruckus, Thorin," The voice of Dwalin whispered, "Let me help ya onto the bed."

"I am fine, Dwalin." Her One assured the tall, balding dwarf. Thorin was already out of the infirmary? Could she be dreaming again?

"You should still be in the infirmary; Oin is going to have my head when he notices that you're gone."

"There are others who need to be there more than I. Now there is one more empty bed for a wounded warrior." Thorin said as Dwalin helped him up onto the mattress beside his dwarrowdam. The dwarf king tried his best not to move too much, for Freyja seemed to be fast asleep on the opposite side of the bed.

"Do you need anything else before I go?" Dwalin inquired as he watched Thorin carefully maneuvered himself beneath the sheets.

"No, thank you, Dwalin. Go get some rest."

"Aye, I will, and I'll have Oin check up on ya first thing in the mornin'." Dwalin bid Thorin farewell and made for the door. As quietly as he could, he shut them behind him, leaving Thorin and Freyja alone in the darkness.

Freyja had still not revealed that she was awake, but Thorin knew her better than that. The dwarf king slowly inched across the mattress and took her into his arms, burying his sharp nose into her freshly washed hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of the soap she had used only a couple of hours ago. Thorin, on the other hand, still smelled of sweat and blood, but Freyja didn't mind.

"It's rude to wake someone who is sleeping." Freyja teased as she snuggled back against Thorin's solid, warm body. Though he was injured and feeling a bit weaker than normal, he still held her just as tightly.

"You weren't asleep, ghivashel," Thorin brushed her hair aside and began trailing kisses down her neck, "Though you should have been. What's keeping you awake?"

"You are, my king." Freyja sighed, exposing more of her neck for him to cover his lips with.

"Right now, yes, but not for the past few hours. Tell me what's troubling you."

"How can you tell that I haven't slept?"

"You sound even more exhausted than when I last spoke with you," Thorin answered simply, pausing his ministrations as he spoke, keeping his lips against her skin, "Are you having nightmares?"

"I was," Freyja admitted, placing her hand over top of Thorin's, which was resting against her belly, "But now that you are here, I may sleep soundly."

"There is nothing to fear any longer." He assured her.

"I don't know, the stench you're giving off is pretty terrifying," Freyja chuckled, "I had planned on having a bath ready for you when you returned but I didn't know you'd be back so soon. I am surprised you escaped Oin."

"Oin wanted me to stay a few more days, but I couldn't stand the thought of not sleeping beside you for that long, so I talked Dwalin into escorting me to you."

"Dwalin was right; Oin will certainly have both of your heads when he finds out that you left." Freyja said as Thorin continued to shower her neck and shoulder with gentle kisses.

The dwarrowdam allowed her eyes to fall shut as she enjoyed the feeling of his warm lips against her skin. Teasingly, she arched her back and pushed her bottom against the front of his loose sleeping trousers, which earned her a soft groan from Thorin. His hand soon began to wander beneath the soft tunic that Freyja wore, exploring the expanse of her abdomen before coming up beneath one of her breasts.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up." Freyja sat up, causing the silk sheets to pool around her waist.

"No, you are tired and need sleep. I can draw myself a bath while you rest." Thorin sat up as well, moving to the edge of the mattress.

"You are injured and need to keep weight off of that foot," Freyja reminded him, sliding off of the mattress and rounding it to help Thorin to the floor, "You have spent the entirety of our quest taking care of me, so allow me to take care of you tonight."

...

Reluctantly, Thorin allowed Freyja to assist him to the bath chamber slowly and painfully. Azog's sword had completely pierced through the sole of his foot and broken through the top of it, which meant that putting any sort of weight on it was out of the question. It was perhaps the most painful and severe battle wound that he had ever received, and it would take a long, long time to heal itself. Until he could finally walk on his own again, he would need the help of a cane or his One.

Upon arriving in the bath chamber, Freyja lit a dozen or so candles that were placed throughout the room and then turned on the bathtub's silver faucet. Luckily, Balin and his team had quickly been able to restore the plumbing, so running water was not an issue in the royal wing.

As the tub began to fill, Freyja went to work at removing Thorin's tunic. The dwarf king watched as she made quick work of the laces and then lifted it over his head to reveal his grime covered chest. She then moved on to his trousers, unlacing and then pushing them down his muscular thighs and calves. With her help, he was able to step out of them and into the half-filled bathtub.

"Are you going to join me?" Thorin wondered as Freyja helped him lower into the steaming hot water. The tub was larger than any other tub that she had seen before; it was fit for a king, after all. She had enjoyed it only a few hours ago, though she had been alone at the time.

"Would you like me to?"

"There is nothing that I would like more."

With that, Freyja stepped back and undressed herself. She was no longer concerned with modesty after the night her and Thorin had spent together in Lake-town. Thorin watched the bare dwarrowdam as she lowered herself into the tub in front of him, facing in his direction. The pain in his foot seemed to disappear as only thoughts of Freyja filled his head. She was as beautiful as he had remembered, though there were many bruises and small cuts along her body from the battle.

When the water reached a certain level, Freyja reached behind her to turn the faucet off, leaving the room in completely silence. It was a peaceful scene; her and Thorin in a bath of hot, steaming water while a dozen candles flickered around them.

No longer able to resist, Thorin leaned forward and placed his hands on Freyja's spread thighs beneath the clear water. He pulled her against him so that her legs wrapped around his waist, and she was practically sitting on his lap. Freyja could feel his hardening length against her core; the sensation sent a shiver down her spine. If she truly wanted to, she could tilt her hips just a bit, sink down onto him, and take him inside of her.

Thorin lowered his head and took Freyja's lips with his, kissing her with passion and urgency. She responded in kind and placed her hands against his chest, rubbing against his pectorals as their lips moved together. Thorin noticeably flinched when her hand brushed against one specific area, so she pulled away to investigate. There underneath the dirt and grime was a large, nearly black bruise, "Oh, Mahal.."

"It's alright, amrâlimê," Thorin placed a kiss against her forehead, "I am alive and well thanks to you and your insistence that I wore the mithril."

With tears in her eyes, Freyja reached for the washcloth she had left draped over the edge of the tub and soaked it in the warm water they sat in. She poured a bit of soap onto it and then gently went to work scrubbing her One. All the while, Thorin's hands stroked up and down the soft, wet skin of her back.

When she leaned forward to scrub the back of his shoulders, Thorin buried his face into the valley between her breasts, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses there. He then moved outward to take one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it gently as she washed him, "Thorin." Freyja moaned. She meant for it to be a warning, but it had come out completely wrong. Taking it as a sign of approval, Thorin bit down on the hardened nub with his teeth.

"I'm trying to work, here." Freyja lowered herself back onto his lap after finishing, finding that he was completely hard against her belly.

"If it weren't for my foot, I would carry you back to the bed and take you." Thorin told her, his voice was low and filled with lust, much like his eyes.

"Perhaps I will be the one doing the carrying and the taking tonight," Freyja answered. Thorin growled in approval, "But first I need to wash your hair. Lay back."

Reluctantly, Thorin obeyed, carefully removing Freyja from his lap and turning around in the tub so that his back was facing her. He gently lowered himself backward until his hair was submerged in the water. Freyja gently ran her fingers through his locks, making sure every bit of dirt, blood, and sweat was gone before allowing him to sit up. She then thoroughly scrubbed his hair with the same soap she had used for herself, and then rinsed it all away, leaving him perfectly clean.

Thorin moved to turn around once again, but before he could, Freyja pressed her chest against his back and whispered in his ear, "I'm not finished with you yet." The dwarrowdam reached around his waist and took his hard length into one of her hands, causing him to groan in surprise and pleasure. Her thumb and fingers couldn't even meet each other due to his thick girth, but she began to pump him up and down nonetheless.

"Freyja." Thorin managed to groan as she increased the pressure and speed of her hand. The soft flesh of her palm and the slick caused by the water made for a pleasurable combination, and Thorin wasn't sure how long he'd be able to take it.

"Yes?" Freyja wondered before nibbling on his earlobe, "Do you like this, Thorin? Or would you prefer my mouth?"

"I would prefer to taste you before you taste me, my queen." He answered as Freyja stroked him even faster. Thorin's next groan echoed off of the walls of the bath chamber.

"That's not what you said when I had your cock in my mouth last." Freyja teased.

"I wasn't myself when you had my cock in your mouth last," Thorin's hands clasped around Freyja's wrist, bringing her to a halt, "Help me to the bed. We are finished here."

"Really? Because you certainly haven't finished yet."

"I will finish after you've been sated. Now, help me to the bed."

...

After the tub had been drained, Freyja and Thorin made for the bed, completely naked and dripping with water. Caught up in each other's lips and bodies, it took them quite a while to make it there.

Once he was off of his feet, Thorin was able to move much quicker and smoother, but Freyja was still stronger than he was at the moment. Taking advantage of that fact, Freyja forced him down into the mattress and leaned over to the bedside table to acquire something special she had set aside for him. Thorin watched as the dwarrowdam produced a small, familiar bottle of oil from the drawer.

"Oh, Mahal, I don't think I have the patience for this." Thorin complained, rolling over onto his stomach anyway, knowing that Freyja would not take no for an answer. A massage would do him well, but he was eager to taste his dwarrowdam.

"You will thank me when I am done," Freyja poured a decent amount of the pleasantly scented oil into her palm, "My hands are magic."

"Oh, they certainly are." Thorin agreed with a hint of playfulness in his voice, knowing that Freyja understood what he was referring too.

Freyja went to work, beginning with his neck, just as he had done with her a few nights ago in Lake-town. However, it took much, much longer to progress down his body, for he had a great many more knots and kinks than she had. Every time she began to work on one Thorin groaned in pain, but then transitioned into a moan of pleasure.

Thorin especially liked when she rubbed his shoulders and the bottom of his un-injured foot, for those were the two places he requested her to spend the most time on. When they were both satisfied, Thorin rolled onto his back, remaining between Freyja's spread legs. He was still painfully hard, for the feeling of Freyja's hands on his body and the sight of her straddling him, completely naked, was more than enough to keep him aroused.

As Thorin expected, Freyja's oil slick hands trailed down his chest, over his abdomen, and stopped at his solid length. Without even a hint of hesitation or bashfulness, she took him in her hand once again and resumed that slow, steady rhythm she had been using on him in the bathtub.

Before she knew what was happening, Thorin quickly rolled her over so that she was pinned beneath him; her legs were spread wide with one on either side of his waist. The dwarf king planted kisses down her body until he reached her dripping center, "Eager, are we?"

"For you? Always." Freyja answered as Thorin ran his middle finger through her folds and then pressed it at her entrance.

"I have a bit of work to do before you're ready for me, ghivashel." Thorin pushed the thick digit inside of her, causing the dwarrowdam to let out a breathy moan. Her hands immediately went to his damp hair and tugged on it lightly. He continued to push his finger in and out of her, and then brushed it against that special spot that she seemed to like so much.

"Thorin!"

The king answered by circling her swollen nub with his tongue before sucking on it gently. This made Freyja throw her head back in pleasure and tighten her grip on his hair. Thorin slowly but steadily continued working her towards her climax with his tongue and one finger, but when he felt that she was ready, he pressed another digit inside of her.

"More, more.." Freyja sighed, bucking her hips.

"I'll give you more in just a moment, amrâlimê, but you aren't ready for me yet."

"I am-,"

"Patience." Thorin said before sucking on her clit a little more firmly, eliciting a loud moan from her. He then increased the pace of his fingers until she was completely shaking. With one more flick of his tongue, Freyja came undone, her hands gripping Thorin's hair even tighter than before. He left his fingers inside of her as she climaxed, enjoying the feeling of her clenching around the digits.

Thorin didn't remove his fingers until Freyja's body was still and relaxed. He crawled up the length of her body and took her lips in a sweet kiss; Freyja could taste herself, "If you don't take me right now, I'll kill you."

"Are you sure that you're ready?"

"I've been ready since Beorn's barn. Please, Thorin." Freyja begged.

With that, Thorin lifted himself onto one elbow, hovering above Freyja, and took himself into his free hand. He briefly stroked his length before running the head of his cock through Freyja's folds, teasing her slightly. Thorin watched as Freyja's eyes fell from his to look down at where they would soon be joined together as one. He could see worry in her gaze.

"Lay back and relax, ghivashel," Thorin murmured, stopping at her entrance, "I will take care of you."

Obeying his request, Freyja rested her head back against the pillow and held Thorin's gaze. And then, Thorin pushed forward slowly and gently until he was partially inside of her tight, wet heat. The dwarf king's eyes snapped shut at the sensation of her around him, for he hadn't felt anything so divine in decades. Freyja's eyes were closed as well, though they were clenched shut in pain, not pleasure.

Thorin did not move and did not enter her any further. Instead, he held himself in the same position until the painful sting she was experiencing began to fade, "Please, Thorin."

"Not yet," He managed to choke out as he continued to hold himself above her. Freyja began to wiggle her hips, trying to take more of him inside of herself, "Hold still."

"I can take you-,"

"I will not let you hurt yourself."

For a few more moments, Thorin did not move, and neither did Freyja. Then, he pushed himself in further. It was not as painful as his initial entrance, Freyja noticed, but it was still uncomfortable to have something so large and thick inside of her. However, she knew that in time she would loosen and there would no longer be any pain.

Thorin's free hand moved slightly, and suddenly the pad of his thumb was rubbing Freyja's sensitive nub gently. He continued to circle it until his dwarrowdam reached yet another climax, which allowed him to slide into her heat completely. With a groan of pleasure, Thorin placed his hand on the other side of Freyja's head, opposite of his other hand.

"Oh, Thorin.." Freyja moaned, bucking her hips slightly. She finally allowed herself to look down at where they were connected; she could hardly tell where he ended and she began.

"How do you feel?"

"Amazingly full."

"Are you ready for me to move?" He asked, allowing his head to lower beside her own.

"Yes, yes.."

Without hesitation, Thorin pulled out and quickly pushed back in to the hilt, causing both of them to let out a groan. He continued to thrust at a slow, steady pace as Freyja continued to adjust to his size, but she quickly grew accustomed to the feeling of him and was beginning to want more. When she told him so, Thorin picked up the pace.

Thorin's head continued to rest against Freyja's; his mouth was beside her ear, and every filthy word he spoke to her sent a shiver down her spine. He told her how tight she was, how good she felt clenched around him, and how he wanted to take her like this every night for the rest of his life. Freyja couldn't answer with words. Instead, she answered with breathy sighs and moans.

Eventually, she felt more confident and began to move her hips in time with Thorin's thrusts. When her king increased his pace, she followed.

Thorin's hands wandered down to Freyja's thighs, bringing them up to hitch around his waist. The new angle allowed him to thrust even deeper inside of her than before and hit that special spot. The dwarrowdam couldn't help but dig her nails into the skin of Thorin's back as he continued at his intense pace, hitting that spot deep inside of her with every thrust.

The only things to be heard in their bedchambers were Thorin's hips meeting Freyja's, the wet sound of his length moving in and out of her, and their moans of pleasure. Anyone who walked by the doors would surely know what was occurring inside, but it was only a couple of hours before dawn and most of the mountain was likely fast asleep.

Only a few moments later, Thorin's entire body stiffened, and his thrusts halted suddenly. The dwarf king practically growled as his thick, hot seed spilled deep within Freyja, and then he was collapsing atop her, completely exhausted. Thorin buried his face against her neck, placing lazy kisses along her flushed skin as her hands stroked up and down his back.

"Thorin, that was..I don't even know how to explain it." Freyja finally spoke, breaking the silence.

"I am old, tired, and more than a bit rusty," Thorin answered, his words muffled by the skin of her neck, "Perhaps when I am well rested and healed, I will be able to make a better showing."

"You were absolutely wonderful."

"As were you, amrâlimê."

"I don't suppose you're ready for another round?"

"Perhaps if I were Fili or Kili's age," Thorin chuckled as he rolled off of his dwarrowdam and onto his back beside her, "I am no longer the young dwarf I once was."

"In the morning, then?" Freyja rested her head against his chest gently, remembering the large bruise there and being careful not to hurt it further. Thorin gathered Freyja into his arms and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"Agreed." He answered with a grin, amused by her eagerness.

"I love you, Thorin."

"And I love you, Freyja. Goodnight, my queen."

Chapter Text

There were no nightmares to be had that night. Freyja slept soundly in Thorin's arms; so soundly that she had not even heard when Oin practically busted down the doors to check on Thorin. Though the king had become a light sleeper during their quest, overwhelming exhaustion had washed over him and he had not heard the healer enter his bedchambers either. Not deterred by Thorin and Freyja's nudity, for he had seen it all before, Oin shook the king awake and promptly gave him a lecture for leaving the infirmary without his permission.

With a tired chuckle, Thorin pulled the silk sheets over Freyja and himself to maintain some level of modesty. Oin went about his business; checking over the dwarf king's injuries, specifically his foot. With gentle hands, he changed the wrappings, "Is Miss Freyja able to work today?"

"Let her rest, Oin," Thorin answered quietly as to not wake the slumbering dwarrowdam beside him, "She had quite a long night."

"I can see that," Oin chuckled as he worked, "I hope you took it easy. The last thing you need is further injury."

"There are two places that a dwarf should never 'take it easy,' as you so put it; the battlefield and the bedroom." Thorin quipped as Oin finished tying off the wraps around his foot.

"Ha! Just be mindful of your injuries. We need our king on his throne as soon as possible."

"I assume Balin has taken charge in my stead?"

"Yes, he's got everything under control. Balin is handling the politics, I am taking care of the injured, and Fili has taken charge of repairs," Oin listed off, "Bombur is in the kitchens, Dwalin has scheduled guard patrols, and the rest of the company is helping wherever they can."

"How is Kili?" Thorin inquired, a look of concern in his eyes.

"He's been in and out of consciousness, but he is well. I've been looking after him and everything seems to be in order. The lad just needs a couple of weeks to rest and recover."

"Thank you, Oin. I will be there to visit him as soon as I can."

"Just focus on getting better yourself, Thorin," Oin said as he packed up his bag of medical supplies, "Take the day to catch up on your sleep. I'll have your meals delivered to you here, and I'll tell Balin to stay out of your hair with the political nonsense for a while longer while you recover."

"I would appreciate that," Thorin nodded in thanks, "Shall I send Freyja your way when she wakes?"

"No, no, you were right. Give her the day to rest as well. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow." Oin said as he made for the door. The healer left Thorin and his dwarrowdam in the peace of their bedchambers once more.

At the sound of the doors shutting, Freyja stirred slightly and rolled onto her back, causing the silk sheets to slip down and reveal her bare torso. Carefully, Thorin crept over her and nudged her legs apart with one knee. He gently lowered himself onto her form, making sure not to crush her beneath his weight. The king rested his head against her chest while his hand stroked her naked, bruised side.

Freyja, still half asleep, rested one hand on Thorin's back and the other in his dark hair. Her fingers clumsily combed through his tangled locks as he placed gentle kisses on the swell of her breast. His dwarrowdam had never looked so relaxed or so at ease, Thorin thought to himself. She was a vision of beauty; so radiant that he could hardly believe that she was real. It was even harder to believe that she was his.

Freyja's dark locks were spread across the white pillow like a halo around her head, and her hazel eyes were fluttering open beneath her equally dark brows. Her pink lips were still plump even though the swelling caused by their night of passionate kisses had died down. In a raspy, sleep filled voice, Freyja greeted him, "Good morning."

The hand on Thorin's back wandered down to the muscle of his behind and squeezed tightly, "Go back to sleep, ghivashel." Thorin chuckled against her soft, pleasantly scented skin.

"I'm not tired." She whined, her eyes falling shut once again as her hand wedged itself between their bodies, searching for something else in particular to squeeze.

"You most certainly are."

"It's morning, Thorin," Freyja found what she was looking for, causing the dwarf king to inhale sharply, "You know what that means."

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle to himself as his dwarrowdam thoroughly felt him up. Even being as drowsy as she was, Freyja was eager for another bout of lovemaking. He couldn't judge her, however, for his feelings were mutual, and his hardening length made that evident enough.

"How will you be able to participate in such an activity if you are still asleep?" Thorin teased, referring to the fact that her eyes were still shut.

Suddenly, both of Freyja's hands were on Thorin's chest and pushing against him roughly, though her effort did not make him budge. The dwarf king was much heavier and stronger than her. Freyja could practically sense the grin forming on her One's lips; her eyes snapped open and found that she had been right. Again, she pushed against him, and this time he allowed her to roll him onto his back.

Freyja swung one leg over his waist and took a seat atop his muscled abdomen, "Has Oin come to see you yet?"

"Yes." Thorin answered shortly as his eyes and large hands began to wander along her pale, naked form, beginning with her parted thighs and moving upward from there.

"And what did he have to say?" Freyja mimicked Thorin and began to slide her palms along his abdomen until they were running up his bruised, hair covered chest.

"He told me to take it easy." Thorin's paws squeezed the soft flesh of her behind, causing her to let out a sigh.

"Wise advice from a wise man," Freyja placed her palms on either side of Thorin and crawled backwards until she was atop his legs, revealing his hardened length and the dark curls surrounding it. When she took ahold of him, Thorin's hips jerked upward slightly, "But when does Thorin Oakenshield ever 'take it easy?'"

Freyja began to pump him up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, squeezing only lightly. When she lowered herself and licked him from bottom to top with the tip of her tongue, Thorin's eyes snapped shut and he threw his head back against the pillows with a groan, revealing his bearded chin and his throat. When she reached the head of his cock, she circled her tongue around it slowly, "How long do you plan to tease me?" Thorin managed to choke out between groans.

"As long as I'd like." Freyja answered before returning her mouth to the head of his cock, sucking on it as her hand continued to pump his shaft. Oh, how she loved the unique feeling of him in her hands. His skin was as soft as the silk sheets they were laying upon, but the muscle beneath was as hard as stone.

When Freyja dipped her head to take more of him into her mouth, Thorin's hands gripped the sheets so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. He was far too large to take into her mouth completely, but whatever she couldn't manage to cover she stroked with her hand. Thorin didn't seem to mind, for he was muttering hot words of praise to his dwarrowdam as she worked him up and down.

Thorin's hips soon began to thrust in time with her motions, eager to take control, but this only caused Freyja to slow down to that rhythm she first began with. Her hand stopped stroking him and instead squeezed around the base of his cock gently as her tongue once again circled the head, "Minx." Thorin groaned.

Freyja's mouth came off of the head of his cock with a filthy, wet pop, before she sat up to straddle his hips once again. Thorin was now painfully hard and a deep, reddish purple. He made no move to grip himself, for he knew that Freyja would scold him for it.

His once quiet, shy, and reserved Freyja had become bold and confident, and he was happy to allow her to take charge, though it wasn't something he was used to doing. Thorin was a leader in every aspect, and it was rare that he allowed anyone to take control from him. However, he found himself enjoying the situation at hand greatly despite its unfamiliarity. "Oin told you to take it easy, and that is exactly what you will do."

"If you don't hurry along, I may have to take matters into my own hands," Thorin told her as his hands once again found the soft curve of her hips, "And that certainly won't count as taking it easy."

"Whatever happened to your patience, Thorin?" Freyja wondered as she slowly dragged her soaked core along the underside of his length. Thorin's hands squeezed her hips so tightly that there would certainly be bruises left there later.

"Any dwarf's patience would be tested with such a beautiful, naked dwarrowdam on top of him," Thorin answered with a growl, "It's difficult to lay back and let you tease me when I know how hot and wet you are for me, how ready you are for me."

"Tell me what you want, my king." Freyja continued to grind against his cock at an agonizingly slow pace, soaking him with the slick that had formed between her legs due to her aroused state.

"I want to plunge into that tight heat of yours," Thorin groaned, "I want to fuck you until your walls are clenching around my cock like they did around my fingers last night."

"Mmmhmm, and then?" Freyja moaned as she increased her pace. She was quickly approaching her end at the feeling of Thorin between her legs and the sound of his filthy words. His voice was so low, so deep, and so sexy that she likely could orgasm just by listening to him talk.

"I want to keep fucking you until you come again, and again, until you can't take it anymore." Thorin answered as Freyja's head rolled back and her grinding motion became erratic. Suddenly, her orgasm washed over her, and she let out a cry of relief that filled the room. Her entire body trembled as the intense feeling of pleasure spread.

In her moment of distraction, Thorin sat up and wrapped his arms around Freyja's middle before pushing her backwards so that their heads were toward the foot of the bed and the pillows were at their feet. He couldn't wait a moment longer; he had to have her. Oin's instructions be damned.

When Freyja's hands began to wander up and down his back, Thorin grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head, holding them against the silk sheets with one hand. His other hand took ahold of his length and positioned it at her slick entrance. Without a moment of hesitation, Thorin thrusted inside of her completely with one fluid motion.

Immediately Thorin went to work, thrusting in and out of Freyja at a quick, steady pace. She was still incredibly tight, but she was so wet and hot that it caused her no pain. Instead, she moaned and sighed as Thorin took her, "You feel so good inside of me."

"Such filthy words from a once innocent mouth." Thorin said lowly into Freyja's ear, sending a shiver down her spine. He released her wrists in order to tilt her hips upwards so that he could hit the spot inside of her, and when he did, she couldn't help but cry out as it was more sensitive than it had ever been before.

Freyja threw her head back as Thorin increased the pace and strength of his thrusts, letting out a loud moan of pleasure. The dwarf king lowered his mouth to the pale, exposed flesh of her throat and began to trail kisses along it. She would surely have markings left there when he was through with her, but neither of them cared any longer.

Another climax was quickly building within Freyja, and when Thorin gave a her a particularly hard thrust, it rolled over her body like a wave. Thorin groaned and slowed his pace as he felt her walls clench around him tightly. His eyes squeezed shut as his hips stilled and he fought against his own urges to spill inside of her. He wasn't ready to be finished just yet.

When she had recovered from her second orgasm, Freyja mustered all of her strength and rolled Thorin onto his back. She straddled his hips as she had just moments ago, and slowly sunk down onto his hot, throbbing cock. He had never, ever been so deep inside of her, and the sensation of it was enough to cause both of them to let out a moan.

Freyja began to experiment with different motions, first lifting herself up and down on his cock before deciding on a back and forth rolling motion that felt similar to the way she moved in a pony's saddle. Thorin's hands gripped her hips tightly as she worked, helping her find a steady rhythm that pleased both of them. Freyja's hands squeezed his shoulders as she went. She obviously had never performed such an action and had felt a bit nervous at taking charge, but with Thorin's large hands guiding her motions she felt more confident. Especially because her king was clearly enjoying himself beneath her.

"Ghivashel.." Thorin eventually said in their native tongue, his voice and eyes filled with lust. He was nearing his end and Freyja knew it. She continued to roll her hips until finally, Thorin's hips halted, and his head was thrown back against the silk sheets. Deep inside of her, Freyja could feel the thick, hot gush of Thorin's seed.

Without dismounting him, Freyja leaned forward and met Thorin's lips with her own. Unlike their hurried thrusts, their kiss was slow, sweet, and full of passion. Before she pulled away, Thorin bit Freyja's bottom lip gently between his teeth.

Completely exhausted, Freyja rolled onto her side next to her dwarf king, causing his softening length to slip out of her. She could feel his sticky seed spilling out of her and down the inside of her thighs, but both of them were far too tired to do anything about the mess.

They had only managed to get a couple of hours of sleep in due to their long night of bathing and lovemaking, but thanks to Oin, they had the rest of the day to rest, "Not a word to Oin." Thorin finally spoke, his voice drowsy as he broke the comfortable silence between them.

"What happens if I tell him?" Freyja rolled onto her side and hitched one leg over his waist. Thorin wrapped one arm around her and placed his free hand on her bare thigh, rubbing his thumb over her soft flesh in circles.

"Do it and you'll find out." Thorin answered. His tone was playful despite his exhaustion.

"Ooh, will there be a punishment?"

"Perhaps." Thorin's hand drifted up her thigh and rested against her behind before gently slapping her there.

"I might just have to tell Oin," Freyja decided, grinning up at her dwarf king, "Because I think I'll enjoy it."

The couple shared a laugh and then found themselves drifting off in each other's arms once again. For the rest of the day, they would sleep in peace. The politics, the paperwork, and the rest of the world could wait one more day while they recovered from their long night and their even longer journey.

Chapter Text

When they next woke, supper was being delivered by Dwalin on a tray. They had slept the entire day away, yet both Thorin and Freyja continued to feel just as tired as they had before.

Dwalin quickly and quietly set the tray down on the bedside table before making for the door and shutting it behind him. Thorin propped his pillows against the wooden headboard so that he could comfortably sit upright with the tray of food on his lap, and Freyja leaned against his shoulder after he positioned himself just right.

Dwalin had brought them a variety of foods including bread, cheeses, and a plate of cooked meat along with a pitcher of water and two glasses. There was even a bit of fresh fruit that surely came from Thranduil. It was a gourmet meal compared to the stew they had eaten nearly every night on their journey, though Bombur's concoction was always excellent and filling, it felt nice to eat something different.

Not realizing just how hungry they had been, the couple began eating in a comfortable silence until the entire tray was empty besides a few crumbs here and there. They had also managed to polish off the entire pitcher of water, "Have you had enough to eat, ghivashel? If not, I will fetch us something else."

"No, I feel perfectly full." Freyja replaced the tray with her own head, lying atop Thorin's lap. His warm palm brushed against her cheek lightly before moving to stroke her dark hair.

"You were softer and fuller at the beginning of our journey." Thorin noticed as he took in her naked form yet again. There was hardly any fat on the dwarrowdam anymore; she had become rather lean.

"I soon will be again if we continue to eat like this," Freyja told him, "The long days of traveling with so little food was enough to slim all of us down."

"Things will be different now," Thorin promised her as he continued to stroke her hair lovingly, "No more traveling, no more danger."

"I think that in time we will all wish that we were still out there on the road, just use fourteen dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf." Freyja admitted against the sheet covering Thorin's thigh.

"You would prefer sleeping on a flat bedroll in the cold to sharing a large, soft bed with me?" Thorin wondered, untangling a knot gently.

"That's not what I'm saying," Freyja lifted her head from Thorin's lap and sat upright, her legs crossed, "What I mean is that now we've arrived at Erebor and taken it back, the work will never end for any of us. There will be no time for a journey through the words or nights beneath the stars surrounding a campfire. You will take the throne and spend your days leading the mountain, Fili will be by your side, Kili likely will be as well, and the rest of the company will go their separate ways as they attend to their own postions."

"We will all remain friends, Freyja. The company isn't going anywhere." Thorin attempted to assure her, but she wasn't so easily convinced.

"This is likely the only day that you and I will ever be able to spend together in peace," Freyja lowered her eyes from his, looking down at the sheets, "Tomorrow you will have to begin negotiations with Thranduil and Bard, no doubt, and then planning for your coronation will begin. After you are crowned you will spend every day seeing to your people and I will be on the bottom of your list of priorities."

"Darling, you knew I was to be king, but I told you that there would be plenty of time for us to spend together."

"We won't spend every day together."

"We certainly will see each other every day."

"Not for the entire day!"

"Freyja, if we spent the entire day together, we would never leave this bedroom and Erebor would never see its king or queen. Nothing would get done." Thorin told her, his tone was growing sterner but he hadn't yet lost his patience.

"I would get done." She answered seriously, though Thorin chuckled at her innuendo.

"You will be 'done' every night, and if you are lucky, every morning as well."

"I just want-,"

"I know, Freyja, but it isn't about what you want or what I want," Thorin interrupted her, "As king I have a duty to my people. I cannot lie in bed with you every day, as much as I'd like to."

"You can't take a day off here or there to spend with me?" She inquired.

"There is too much to be done. Erebor is in ruin and must be rebuilt, trade must be reestablished, and positions must be filled. I will not have the time for any days off for a long while."

"Great." Freyja rolled away from Thorin and slid off of the edge of the mattress. As Thorin beckoned her back to the bed, she ignored him and rifled through the recently stocked wardrobe for a nightgown, a robe, and a pair of slippers. After finding each article, she threw them on haphazardly and made for the door, leaving Thorin alone upon the excessively large bed beneath the silk sheets.

"I'm going to visit your nephews. I don't know when I'll be back." Freyja said without turning around to face Thorin, who was begging her to come back to bed and talk with him. It was too late, however, for she was already out the door, and it was slamming shut behind her.

...

Erebor was incredibly busy seeing as how late in the evening it was. Dwarves of all kinds were roaming the halls, repairing damages as efficiently as they could before moving onto the next item on their lists. Many a dwarf accidently bumped into her as she went, for they were too preoccupied with their work to be paying any attention. She somehow managed to make it to the infirmary wing without being knocked over and found that it was much more peaceful than the rest of the mountain had been.

"You're supposed to be resting, lass. What brings you here in your nightgown?" Oin inquired as he was exiting the room of some poor, injured warrior.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would pay Kili a visit and see how he is faring." Freyja answered, leaving out the part about her and Thorin's little argument. Oin surely wouldn't be happy to hear that his most important patient was most likely trying to shuffle through the halls alone in search of his dwarrowdam.

"You remember where he is." Oin waved her off as he went about his business, checking on his other patients. Freyja made her way down the hall to the very last room and slowly opened the door as to not wake Kili if he were asleep on the other side. There in one bed sat Kili, and the bed that Thorin had previously occupied sat Fili. Upon hearing the door, Kili's dark eyes fluttered open, as if he hadn't truly been sleeping. It wasn't until Freyja shut the door that Fili stirred as well.

"Oh, Kili.." Freyja said quietly to herself as she took in his appearance. He looked a mess; his brown hair looked greasy and matted, dark circles sat beneath his tired eyes, and the white wraps surrounding his torso looked as if they were beginning to grow old. Freyja made for the side of his bed, and he smiled at her weakly, his usual excitement dimmed by the pain of his wounds.

"Hello, beautiful." Kili greeted her in a raspy, exhausted voice.

"You look like death." Was all Freyja could manage to say.

"He smells like it, too," Fili piped up, moving to sit on the edge of his mattress, "I'd stay away from him if I were you."

"Like that would keep me away." Freyja stopped at his bedside and leaned down, placing a kiss against his cheek. Fili was right. The young prince smelled of sweat and dried blood, but it wouldn't deter her from sitting with him.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Kili moved to sit up with Freyja's help, "She's the perfect dwarrowdam. She fights, she drinks, and she doesn't mind when you smell bad."

"Too bad she's spoken for, eh?" Fili joked.

"Speaking of that, shouldn't you be with Thorin?" Kili wondered as Freyja slid into bed beside him.

"I'm not allowed to leave him for a while to visit with my future nephews?" Freyja answered, trying not to sound too suspicious.

"What's he done now?" Fili immediately asked, knowing that something was afoot.

"What do you mean?" Freyja faked innocence.

"You came to visit us unannounced, in a nightgown and robe, at night, when you should be in bed with our uncle." Fili explained.

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Freyja told the eldest prince, "I was just having trouble sleeping and I thought I would see how the two of you were doing," It wasn't technically a lie, for Thorin hadn't really done anything. Freyja was simply upset over something that neither he or she had control over, "So, what's the prognosis?"

"Nothing vital has been pierced, so at this point it's just a waiting game," Kili explained, "I'm in a lot of pain, but Oin has kept infection away and I'm on my way to healing."

"We'll probably have to wheel him to Thorin's coronation." Fili chuckled, resting his elbows against his knees.

"Yeah, when is that happening? We've been completely out of the loop." Freyja was curious to know what exactly was going on outside of her and Thorin's bedchambers.

"Negotiations with Thranduil and Bard have been scheduled for practically the entire day tomorrow," Fili explained, "Hopefully by the end, we'll have made peace and two strong alliances with Mirkwood and Dale. If so, Thorin's coronation will likely occur by the end of the week, which gives important guests, such as Lord Elrond and our mother, enough time to arrive."

"Nothing is set in stone yet," Kili added, "After everyone meets tomorrow, we will know for sure."

"I'd wager your wedding will take place not long after Thorin's coronation." Fili told her.

"He hasn't even begun to court her yet, Fili." Kili argued.

"Please, that doesn't matter. They've already fu-,"

"Thorin is a traditional dwarf," Kili interrupted his brother, "He'll want to woo her properly before asking her to marry him."

"I doubt he'll have the time to do any wooing come tomorrow." Freyja finally spoke, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She wanted to be courted, wanted to be wooed, wanted Thorin to spoil her with romantic meals, dates, and most importantly, his time and affection. And she wanted to do the same for him.

"He will be busy, but I know he will make plenty of time for you," Kili assured her, "You won't be left alone, if that's what you're worried about."

"Kili's right, Freyja. And even when Thorin is busy ruling the kingdom, one of us will always be around." Fili added.

"I suppose you're both right," Freyja said, feeling a bit better about the whole situation. Thorin loved her more than anything and would always make time for her, but she hadn't believed it and stormed out of their bedchambers like a child, "I ought to get back to him."

"Thanks for visiting, Auntie Freyja." Kili gave her a warm smile as she slid off of his bed and made for the door, "Oh, before you go, may I ask a favor of you?"

"What is it, Kili?" Freyja wondered as her hand closed around the doorknob.

"He wants to see that elf of his." Fili answered before Kili could.

"Her name is Tauriel, and yes, I would like to see her very much." Kili frowned at his brother, though Freyja knew Fili hadn't meant any offense.

"Do you happen to know if she is in the mountain? Or has she gone home to Mirkwood?"

"She's been banished from Mirkwood, but now that the battle is over, perhaps Thranduil has changed his mind," Kili explained in a rush, "I'm not quite sure of where she is, but perhaps tomorrow while Thorin and Fili are in negotiations and I am here, you could do some investigating?"

"I will look for her, and if I find her, I will send her your way," Freyja promised with a smile on her lips, "Shall I tell your uncle about this, or shall it stay between us three?"

"You'd best not mention it just yet. We want him in a good mood during negotiations tomorrow." Fili suggested and Kili nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I'll work on it tomorrow. Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight, Freyja." The brothers said in unison.

...

Upon reaching the door to her and Thorin's bedchambers, Freyja froze. She was afraid of what she might find behind them. Thorin was surely angry that she had stormed out on him and left him alone. What if he had made a mess of their room, or what if he wasn't even in there? Taking a deep breath, she slowly pushed the door open and peered around it.

The room was still intact, and there was Thorin, asleep beneath the silk sheets, just where she had left him. Freyja shut the door behind her and peeled off her night clothes as she approached the bed. Feeling the mattress dip beneath her weight, Thorin stirred slightly but did not wake. He was on his side; his bare back was facing toward her.

Freyja slid beneath the sheets and pressed her chest against his back, wrapping one of her arms around his thick frame. Her fingers stroked along his lightly hair covered chest as she placed kisses against the back of his shoulders. Waking due to her touches, Thorin turned around and wrapped his own arms around Freyja and hauled her against his chest, intertwining his bare legs with hers.

"How is my nephew?" Thorin wondered, his voice filled with sleep. Was he not going to mention their argument?

"In pain, but alive," Freyja answered, pressing more kisses against the base of his neck as he stroked her back up and down, "I hope you can forgive me for what happened earlier."

"It is already forgotten, ghivashel," Thorin's lips met hers in a long, sweet kiss that soon deepened into something more heated, "But please do not run from me the next time you are upset."

"I won't, I promise." Freyja sighed against Thorin's lips as his hand squeezed her behind.

"Good girl." Thorin murmured as he rolled her onto her back and buried his face against her neck. His lips left a hot, wet trail down her pale, sensitive flesh as his hand crept up the inside of her thigh.

"Thorin?" Freyja broke the heated silence.

"Mmmhmm?" He hummed as his fingers found her core.

Freyja let out a quick gasp of surprise before asking, "What happens now?"

Thorin chuckled as one digit circled her entrance teasingly, "I think you know, ghivashel."

"No, I mean now that we're here, together, in Erebor. What happens between you and I?" Freyja's question didn't exactly fit in with the current situation at hand, but she needed to know. Thorin's finger stopped, and his eyes met hers.

"Come morning, I intend to court you properly," Thorin answered, confirming what Kili had said, "After things have settled down and the time is right, I will ask you to marry me. If you say yes, we wed. If you say no, I'll continue to court you and ask you until you say yes."

"Persistent, are we?" Freyja chuckled as he slid one thick digit inside of her.

"If I was not a persistent dwarf, Erebor would never have been retaken, and we would not be lying in bed together at this moment." Thorin worked his finger in and out of Freyja slowly, spreading her wetness until he was easily able to slide it in with little resistance.

"Aren't we supposed to wait until after we are married to do this?" Freyja teased as Thorin added one more finger, crooking them in order to rub against that special spot. Her hands wandered upwards over his chest and stopped at his shoulders, squeezing them.

"Traditional as I may be," Thorin removed his fingers when she was thoroughly slick and replaced them with the head of his cock. He gently pressed himself into her wet heat inch by inch until he was fully seated within her. With a moan, Freyja dug her nails into the muscle of his shoulders and let her head fall back against the pillows, "I won't wait until after we are married to have you clenched around me like this. Besides, we have already done it twice before, so there is no reason to wait any longer."

"Such a naughty rule breaker, you are," Freyja managed to say as Thorin began his slow, steady thrusts, "Maybe it's you that needs a spanking."

"Shall I give you something to suck on to silence that filthy mouth of yours?" Thorin threatened, giving her a rough thrust.

"The only thing I'd like to have in my mouth seems to be busy at the moment." Freyja answered, loving their back-and-forth teasing.

Thorin's hand removed itself from her hip and moved upwards until his index finger was tapping against her plump lips. She ran her tongue along the tip of it and took it into her mouth, sucking on it suggestively. With a groan, Thorin's eyes shut, and his hips began to snap at a faster, rougher pace. Freyja swirled her tongue around the tip of his finger as if it were the head of his cock; she could taste herself on him. When she gently bit down on his finger, he lost control.

Thorin suddenly flipped Freyja onto her stomach and hauled her hips upward, causing her back to arch deliciously. She was completely on display for her king, and he couldn't wait any longer to sink back into her heat. The front of Thorin's thighs met the backs of Freyja's, and he pressed his cock into her once again and continued his fast, rough pace.

"Oh Mahal!" Freyja practically yelled. The angle he was holding her at caused him to hit that special spot inside of her with every single thrust. The dwarrowdam reached forward and held onto one of the many plump pillows at the head of the bed; she practically squeezed the feathers out of it. When she buried her face into it, Thorin's hands closed around her shoulders and pulled her upwards so that her back was flush against his chest. He was still deep inside of her as one arm closed around her, and his free hand moved to tease her clit.

"I want to hear you when you scream my name, ghivashel. I can't do that when your face is buried in a pillow, can I?" Thorin's voice was hot and low in her ear, and when he was done speaking his teeth nipped at her earlobe. His thrusts continued, though they were slower now that his fingers were rubbing against her clit.

"Thorin.." Freyja moaned, allowing her head to fall back against his shoulder, causing her back to arch away from his chest and his cock to sink deeper into her.

"You like it rough, don't you, Freyja?" Thorin chuckled, his fingers began to rub against her faster, "I should have known. You are a warrior after all." Thorin's thrusts stopped completely as his fingers worked. Freyja could feel his cock practically throbbing inside of her. It wasn't long until she was nearing her end, and Thorin knew it.

"Fuck me!" Freyja demanded, pushing back against him. Her body was beginning to tremble as her orgasm neared.

"That's no way to request something from your king, is it?" Thorin's fingers stopped as well, causing Freyja to let out a broken, frustrated groan. She had been so close.

"Fuck me, Thorin."

"You know better than to speak to me that way. Try again."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please, Thorin, fuck me!"

"That's my good girl." Thorin pushed her back onto her hands and knees and began his brutal pace once again. The feeling of his thrusts combined with the sound of skin against skin was enough to build Freyja back up, and then she was orgasming around his cock. Her walls clenched him tightly as he pounded into her relentlessly, "Such a good girl."

Thorin continued to move as she recovered from her orgasm; she had fallen from her hands onto her elbows, causing her back to arch even more, which had Thorin hitting her sensitive spot once again, "Thorin!"

It wasn't long before Thorin finally met his own release; his thick seed spilled into her in hot spurts as he groaned. His thrusts grew slower until he came to a stop and then slipped out of her, rolling onto his back. Freyja collapsed onto her stomach beside him. Both of them were breathing hard and they each were covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Thorin pulled his dwarrowdam into his arms and she rested her head against his chest once again. Content and sated, they quickly drifted off to sleep. They would need their rest for the long day ahead of them tomorrow.

Chapter Text

The morning started with a knock on Thorin and Freyja's door. The couple woke to the sound of knuckles rapping on the wooden surface, and when they finished rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, they shared a kiss in greeting.

"Come in." Thorin called in a tired, raspy voice, giving whoever was on the other side his permission to enter. The dwarf king made sure that both he and his dwarrowdam were properly covered as the doors opened to reveal a rather frazzled Balin.

"I have kept Thranduil and Bard waiting as long as I can," Balin said as he approached Thorin's bedside, "You are needed in the council hall to make negotiations and amends with Mirkwood and the people of Lake-town."

"I will be with you shortly, Balin," Thorin assured the white-haired dwarf, "Allow me a moment to ready myself."

"We are meeting just after breakfast which should give you enough time to bathe and make yourself presentable. I'm sure Freyja will escort you to the council hall when you are ready, yes?"

"Yes, I'll help the old man along." Freyja teased, referring to Thorin's injured foot.

"Good, I will see you both in an hour." Balin turned on his heel and disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived. The poor dwarf had been handling the politics in Thorin's stead and was surely in desperate need of a break. Dealing with an angry Thranduil and Bard was undoubtedly a difficult task.

"I'm not sure if an hour will be enough time to get you smelling and looking presentable." Freyja joked as she flung the sheets off of her body and made to slide off of the mattress. Suddenly, a large hand clasped around her arm and tugged her backwards until she came into contact with a solid chest.

"Now where do you think you're going?" Thorin murmured into his dwarrowdam's ear before placing a kiss against the side of her head. Her messy locks tickled his nose, causing him to grin.

"You heard Balin," Freyja knew that she should wiggle her way out of his arms and head to the bath chamber so the both of them could get ready for the long day ahead, but she wasn't yet ready to leave the comfort of his embrace, "We need to get moving."

"Am I not allowed a moment to speak with my queen?"

“I know where this is leading, and we certainly do not have time for a continuation of last night, Thorin.” Freyja warned him, though she didn't refuse him when he began to place kisses down the pale, sensitive flesh of her neck. When he nipped lightly at her earlobe, she let out a moan.

“I intend to officially begin courting you today, ghivashel,” Thorin reminded her as she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder, “Which means that you will allow me to woo you as much as I'd like.”

“You’ve already wooed me quite a bit, Thorin.” Freyja assured him, referring to the heated moments they'd shared since arriving at Erebor. His touches, kisses, and other intimate acts were more than enough for her, but she knew that her king would want to shower her with extravagant gifts anyway. It already seemed as if he had ideas running through his head.

“I have something planned for you today while I'm in negotiations.” Thorin informed her, his hand beginning to wander down over her stomach, heading for somewhere rather naughty.

“We’ll never make it to the negotiations if you keep this up,” Freyja sighed when Thorin reached his goal, “You don't want to keep Thranduil and Bard waiting any longer.”

“It won't take me any longer than two minutes to have you coming around my fingers.” Thorin muttered hotly in her ear as the pads of his fingers began to rub against her.

“You cocky dwarf-,“ Freyja’s words were interrupted by a loud moan that came from between her very own lips. Thorin had been right.

...

An hour later, Thorin and Freyja were thoroughly cleaned and dressed, standing outside of a filled meeting hall. Through the wooden doors they could hear dwarves, elves, and men chatting idly as they awaited Thorin's arrival. Balin was surely getting impatient.

“I likely won't be finished until late this evening,” Thorin told his dwarrowdam, “But I have been informed that a very important guest arrived this morning, and they brought someone that I know you'll be happy to see.”

Freyja silently contemplated Thorin's words, thinking back to all of the faces they had encountered on their seemingly endless journey to Erebor. There had been Radagast, Lord Elrond, Beorn, Bard’s wonderful children, and of course Tauriel and Legolas, though they hadn't been so kind. The thought of the red-haired elf maiden reminded Freyja that she needed to speak with Thorin about letting Kili see her, but now wasn't the right time to make such a request.

“Who might that be?” Freyja inquired.

“I recall that you took a liking to one of the handmaidens in Rivendell,” Thorin answered, causing a wide smile to break out upon Freyja’s face, “I believe her name was Eloen.”

“Eloen is here? In Erebor?” Freyja could hardly stand still, for she could hardly believe that the elf maiden had kept her promise to come visit Erebor after its recapture. The dwarrowdam threw her arms around Thorin's neck and jumped into his arms, practically squealing with excitement.

“She arrived with Lord Elrond this morning and I've made arrangements to keep the two of you occupied while negotiations are taking place,” Thorin informed her, his arms wrapped around Freyja’s waist and his face buried into her damp hair, “Many dwarves have already begun to make their homes and businesses here, and there seems to be a talented seamstress among them.”

“Are you insulting my clothing?” Freyja pulled away from Thorin and looked down at her tattered tunic and breeches.

“You know that I think you are beautiful no matter what you are wearing,” Thorin said, his voice low, “Though I prefer you in nothing, I assumed that you would like a few formal gowns that will befit your status better than those rags.”

“Thorin, I don't need anything extravagant.”

“My queen deserves nothing less than the very best.”

“But Thor-,“

The doors to the large hall behind them swung open to reveal Balin, interrupting Freyja in the middle of her complaint. The old, snowy haired dwarf did not look pleased at the sight of her and the king loitering outside of the hall, “Are you quite finished?”

“I will see you this evening, ghivashel,” Thorin stepped forward to place a gentle kiss upon Freyja's forehead, “Eloen is waiting for you in the great hall.”

With that, Thorin disappeared into the massive room filled with elves, dwarves, and men. Upon his entrance, the room silenced completely, and the large doors swung shut. Freyja prayed to Mahal that there would be peace before nightfall, but with three stubborn leaders, it would likely take much longer to achieve such a thing. All she could do was wait, and while she did so, she would catch up with an old friend.

...

“Eloen!” Freyja called excitedly once she stepped into the great hall. There stood the tall, beautiful, blonde haired elf maiden that had shown her nothing but kindness and friendship during her time in Rivendell. Eloen had been admiring the intricate stonework that was in the process of being repaired, but she immediately turned when she heard Freyja's familiar voice.

“Mellon!” Eloen answered, lifting her skirts in order to run and greet the dwarrowdam. The pair shared a warm smile as Eloen took Freyja into a tight hug, nearly lifting her off of the ground in the process, “I am so happy to see you alive and well!”

“We weren't expecting any visitors from Rivendell until the end of the week, this is such a pleasant surprise!” Freyja pulled away from Eloen and took in her appearance. As always, she looked flawless; she was practically the definition of beauty.

“When we heard news of your company reaching Lake-town we departed, knowing that you would likely need supplies once the mountain was retaken. It seems as if we have arrived at the perfect time.” Eloen explained.

“I assume Lord Elrond is taking part in the negotiations today, then?” Freyja inquired, “Rivendell would be an excellent trade partner and ally, I'm sure.”

“You assumed correctly but let us leave the politics to them. I've been told that you are in need of an entire new wardrobe,” Eloen motioned to the ratty rags that Freyja was currently wearing, “I can see that Thorin was not joking.”

“I think I look fine.”

“A queen cannot be seen wearing tattered trousers and tunics in public!”

“I am not a queen, Eloen.” Freyja said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, but you will be,” Eloen countered with a twinkle in her eyes, “Come, we need to get to work in order to have your gowns ready by the time the celebrations begin.”

...

Freyja allowed Eloen to drag her down the halls of Erebor until they reached the wings where dwarves and dwarrowdams were beginning to set up their businesses. Behind one particular set of doors was a room filled with rolls of beautiful fabrics of every pattern and color Freyja could possibly imagine. Standing in the center of the room with a tape measure around her neck was a red-haired dwarrowdam.

“Oh, you must be Freyja!” The dwarrowdam exclaimed when she caught sight of Freyja and Eloen admiring her wide variety of fabrics.

“Yes, I am. And you are?”

“Mera, call me Mera,” The red-haired dwarrowdam, Mera, extended her hand in greeting and Freyja accepted it, “The king himself has informed me that you are to have as many dresses as you'd like, in any color or fabric you’d like, no matter how extravagant.”

“I hope that he's paid you, then!” Freyja could hardly believe it.

“Oh, he has indeed. Gave me more than necessary, too, and told me to keep whatever was left over. It was very generous of him!”

“Freyja, you absolutely have to have a gown made of this silk. It's stunning!” Eloen called from the other side of the room where she was stroking a rather expensive looking royal blue silk. “Who might this be? She has excellent taste.” Mera wondered, referring to the excited elf maiden who was now flitting from fabric to fabric, taking mental notes on which ones would look best on Freyja.

“Eloen. She is a dear friend of mine from Rivendell.” Freyja answered.

“Well, I think your dear friend would look wonderful in that very same fabric, and your generous husband-to-be has left plenty of extra gold. Perhaps Eloen would like a gown as well?” Mera suggested. The idea brought a smile to Freyja’s face, and she nodded in agreement.

“Oh no, I couldn't.” Eloen protested, having heard Mera’s offer. Though Freyja could see in the elf’s eyes that she was desperately in love with the silk.

“You could, and you will.” Freyja insisted, and she wouldn't take no as an answer. Eloen had been a kind friend to her and deserved something a gown as equally beautiful to herself.

“Excellent,” Mera chimed in, “Let’s get the two of you measured and then we’ll discuss styles and fabrics!”

...

It was nearly dinner time when Freyja, Eloen, and Mera had finished planning and designing a whole order of gowns. Though it had been a long day, Mera had excitedly informed Freyja that she would begin working on the first gown immediately. It would likely take a couple of weeks of work for Mera to complete the entire order, but Freyja was in no rush.

Freyja and Eloen strolled through the halls of Erebor arm in arm after departing from Mera, chatting about everything that had occurred since the company had been in Rivendell. Freyja shared her tales and Eloen listened carefully, admitting that she had been worried for the company’s wellbeing after the dwarrowdam finished.

“I am so happy for all of you, Mellon. Erebor has been retaken and is well on its way to being restored, Thorin will be king, and you will marry and be his queen. It is truly something out of a fairytale.”

“We could never have done any of this without the help that was given to us along the way,” Freyja told her, “If it weren't for Lord Elrond, Beorn, or Bard, we very well could be dead.”

“I know that Lord Elrond is eager to form an alliance with Thorin and Erebor.” Eloen told the dwarrowdam as they made for Freyja’s bedchambers.

“I hope he is successful in doing so. I'm sure it would mean that we would get to see one another quite often.”

“Don't worry, Freyja. Lord Elrond plans on staying here in Erebor for Thorin's coronation, so I will be here to keep you company for a while longer.” Eloen informed her as they stopped in front of the large, heavy doors of Thorin and Freyja's shared bedchambers.

“I'm glad to hear it. Will I see you tomorrow then?” Freyja wondered as she released Eloen’s arm and went to push open the bedroom doors.

“Absolutely. Goodnight, Mellon.”

“Goodnight, Eloen.”

...

Thorin was nowhere to be found. Freyja assumed he was still negotiating with Thranduil, Bard, and now Lord Elrond, so she stripped out of her tattered clothing and drew herself yet another hot bath.

It had been a fun day spent with Eloen, but she was beginning to miss her One. She had spent every day with Thorin and the rest of the company for a little over a year, and it was difficult to adjust to being without them. In the morning she would be sure to pay Fili and Kili a visit, and perhaps go in search of the rest of the company to check in on them as well.

As she sat in the tub and thought of everything that occurred in the past few days, Freyja suddenly remembered that she had promised Kili that she would find out where his elf maiden, Tauriel, had gone off to. Thorin would likely know the answer after speaking with Thranduil all day long, so she would be sure to wait up for him before falling asleep herself. Freyja hoped that Tauriel was alive and well, because if not, Kili would be heartbroken.

Long after Freyja had tucked herself into bed, Thorin finally came shuffling into the room slowly and quietly with Dwalin supporting most of his weight. His foot was still tender and in quite a bit of pain, so it would surely be a long while before he would be able to walk comfortably.

Freyja jumped out of bed and took her One from Dwalin, bidding him a goodnight before helping Thorin to sit on the edge of their bed, “How was it today?”

“Little progress was made in the beginning,” Thorin started as Freyja peppered kisses against his forehead and her hands began to unlace his tunic, “After apologies were made, we finally started to get somewhere. I expect we will come to an agreement tomorrow.”

“That,” Kiss, “Is,” Kiss, “Wonderful,” Kiss, “News.”

“I suppose. I've just about had it with Thranduil's outrageous demands, but we are willing to accommodate him if it means peace and a strong alliance.”

“Speaking of Thranduil...” Freyja began as she pulled Thorin's tunic over his head and moved her hands down to the laces of his trousers.

“What of him?” Thorin inquired, looking a bit grumpy at the fact that Freyja wanted to talk more about the insufferable Elvenking.

“Did he happen to mention what happened to Tauriel? You know, the red-haired elf maiden that saved Kili's life?” Freyja wondered, hoping that the mention of Tauriel’s heroic act would butter her One up a bit.

“No.” Thorin answered shortly.

“Could you possibly find out for me?”

“Befriending another elf, are you?” Thorin joked as Freyja leaned down to remove his boots before sliding his trousers down his legs, “I don't think Thranduil would care to speak of her. It was rumored that she threatened to shoot him with her bow during the battle, and she has been banished from Mirkwood.”

“Is there any way you could find out where she has gone off to?” Freyja asked as she finished undressing Thorin until he was left completely bare. As much as she wanted to pin him to the mattress and show him how much she had missed him today, she needed to find Tauriel for Kili.

“I fear that mentioning her may put Thranduil in an even more sour mood, which in turn could ruin the progress we've made,” Thorin explained as his hands came to rest on the curve of Freyja’s hips, “Why are you so interested in this elf maiden?”

“Kili..” Was all Freyja could say before Thorin interrupted her.

“Oh Mahal, tell me he isn't still chasing after her like a lost pup.”

“He cares for her deeply, Thorin, and I know she feels the same for him,” Freyja insisted as Thorin pulled her closer, resting his forehead against her chest in either frustration, exhaustion, or both, “She saved his life twice; once in Lake-town and the other at Ravenhill.”

“What would you have me do? Ask Thranduil to hand over an elf maiden that practically committed treason so that she could live free in Erebor and be courted by my nephew?”

“Well,” Freyja thought for a moment, “Yes.”

“You know how I feel about elves.” Thorin growled against the soft skin of his dwarrowdam’s chest.

“It does not matter how you feel about elves. Kili is in love with Tauriel, and he is desperate to have her by his side. How would you feel if someone kept you from me?”

“Yes, I understand. You've made your point, ghivashel,” Thorin said, letting out a sigh as Freyja's hands began to comb through his dark locks. The dwarrowdam lowered her head and placed a gentle kiss atop his head before resting her cheek there, holding him close, “Allow me the night to think about it.”

“Thank you, my love.” Freyja pulled away slightly and cupped Thorin's bearded jaw in her hands, forcing him to look up and meet her gaze. With a smile, she pressed her lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss. When they finally broke apart, Thorin tugged her onto the bed and got comfortable against the pillows with her body against his. Though he was tired, he wanted to enjoy a few moments simply sharing Freyja’s company and the feeling of her skin against him.

“How was your day with Eloen?” Thorin broke the comfortable silence after a few moments, realizing that Freyja had asked about his day, and he had not yet asked the same of her.

“Wonderful.” Freyja answered, nuzzling further into the crook of Thorin's neck.

“I trust she helped you pick out some beautiful gowns.”

“Oh, yes, she did. And the seamstress was absolutely lovely. I'm confident her work will turn out amazing.”

“I'm confident that you will look breathtaking in each one of those dresses,” Thorin murmured, “And I will enjoy tearing them off of you each night.”

“If you come to bed this tired every night, I'm not sure there will be any tearing.”

“Forgive me, ghivashel, but I'm more exhausted than I expected to be,” Thorin apologized, placing a kiss in Freyja’s hair, “I hope that the romantic evening I have planned for us tomorrow will make up for it.”

“Ooh, a romantic evening, you say? Will it include a five-course meal? Or perhaps ballroom dancing?”

“You will have to wait and see.” Thorin told her, not giving away any hints. He knew that Freyja was not one for extravagant gifts such as the many gowns he had paid for, so he had been thinking of other things that she might enjoy. Thorin knew that what he had planned for her would make her immensely happy.

“I don't like surprises.” Freyja grumbled; her voice was growing sleepier by the minute.

“You don't like expensive gowns and now you don't like surprises?” Thorin chuckled, “What do you like?”

“I like you, you silly old man.”

“Then it is a good thing that we are together, isn't it?”

“Mmm.” With that final utterance, Freyja drifted off into sleep, her face still buried in Thorin's neck. Despite the long, frustrating day he had had, the sight of his beautiful dwarrowdam curled up against him brought a smile to his lips. Content, Thorin relaxed into the pillows, placed one final goodnight kiss against Freyja's head, and drifted off into his own peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

Much to her disappointment, Thorin was already gone when Freyja awoke the next morning. He must have slipped out of bed quietly to attend the second day of negotiations, leaving his dwarrowdam to sleep in peace. According to the letter he had left on one of the bedside tables, Thorin would meet her at the great gates of Erebor at supper time, which left her the entire day to do whatever she pleased.

As she was stepping out of the bathtub to dry herself off, Freyja heard a knock at the bedroom door. She quickly toweled herself off before wrapping the fuzzy fabric around herself to shield her nudity as she made for the door where someone was still excitedly knocking.

Freyja cracked open the door and poked her head out to find Eloen nearly jumping out of her slippers with a gown in her arms, “Let me in!”

With a smile on her face, Freyja backed away from the door and allowed Eloen to enter. The elf maiden shut the door behind her with her foot and quickly headed for the bed, which was still unmade. Not seeming to care, Eloen laid the gown in her arms onto the mattress and presented it to Freyja, eagerly awaiting her reaction.

“I checked in with Mera this morning and she already had this one finished,” Eloen explained, motioning to the beautiful, royal blue gown lying upon the bed, “She said that she worked on it all day and night, and she’ll have more along soon enough.”

“It's breathtaking.” Was all Freyja could manage to say as she gently ran her fingers down the silken material of the gown. Mera had truly done a wonderful job; Freyja had never laid eyes on something so elegant. It was beautiful but simple, much like herself.

“You must put it on. Immediately.” Eloen demanded.

“My hair is soaking wet, and I wouldn't want to completely drench the fabric!” Freyja exclaimed, though Eloen was already reaching to remove the dwarrowdam’s towel from her much shorter body.

“You work on drying your hair while I find you something to wear beneath this masterpiece, then!” Eloen quickly turned on her heel and made for the wardrobe that had recently been stocked with clothing and shoes for everyday wear. Freyja simply rolled her eyes playfully as she returned to the bath chamber to finish wringing out her wet locks of hair.

...

Nearly an hour later, Freyja was dressed in a painfully tight corset with her newly made gown over top of it. Though it was nearly squeezing the breath out of her, Freyja had to admit that she liked the way the corset gave her a slenderer and bustier figure. The dwarrowdam didn't know how long she'd be able to stand wearing it, however. Eloen had been ecstatic upon seeing Freyja in the gown, for she had never seen the dwarrowdam look so elegant. After the elf fawned over her for a good few moments, she went to work at combing out Freyja’s drying hair before braiding it beautifully.

Just as Eloen finished, Freyja went to stand up, but the elf pushed her gently back down into the chair before the mirror, “I am not finished with you yet, Mellon.”

“What else could there possibly be for you to do?” Freyja wondered, for she was already dressed, and her hair was styled.

“There is a finishing touch I would like to add, if you can find the patience to sit for one more moment,” Eloen explained as she opened a small pouch that she had brought along with the gown, “This is a little something we elven women enjoy using to add a little sparkle to our attire.”

“Eloen..”

“Shush.” The elf maiden produced a small tube of some kind of shimmering liquid from the pouch and twisted it open. Next she found an equally small brush and dipped it inside of the tube, leaning down to be level with Freyja's face.

“What is that?” Freyja wondered as Eloen moved to run the brush, now coated in that glittering liquid, along her bottom lip. Though she was unsure of what Eloen was trying to do, Freyja remained still and allowed her to go ahead.

“It's a gloss,” Eloen answered simply as she gently brushed it across Freyja's lips gently, “Now rub your lips together carefully.” She instructed; Freyja followed her orders hesitantly, not quite sure if she enjoyed the sticky feeling of the gloss on her lips. When Eloen stepped aside, satisfied with her work, Freyja looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised by what she saw.

For the past year, she had looked ratty and smelled of dirt, blood, and sweat. There had been no soap, no gowns, and certainly no gloss for lips on the journey to Erebor. Now that Freyja had access to such luxurious amenities, she practically looked like royalty, and Eloen seemed to agree, “Now you look like a true queen.”

“I'm technically not a queen anyway, Eloen, and you know that, but I have to admit that I could pass for one at the moment.” Freyja complimented the elf’s work as she pulled her long, dark braid over her left shoulder and stroked it with her hand.

“You will be soon enough.” Eloen countered as she began to put away the extra hair pins and brushes. Freyja continued to look at herself in the mirror, contemplating Eloen’s words. For what seemed like the first time, the dwarrowdam realized that she indeed was being courted by the King Under the Mountain, and sooner rather than later she would be his queen. The thought of such a title and responsibility scared her, to be completely honest. Freyja had never been anything more than a blacksmith; could she really handle the throne?

...

Freyja bid Eloen farewell outside of the bedchamber doors, for she wanted to check on Kili and Oin likely wouldn't want more than one person disturbing his most important patient. As the dwarrowdam walked through the busy halls of Erebor she hoped that Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil would be able to reach an agreement by the end of the day. Even more so, she hoped that Thorin would be able to locate Tauriel and invite her to visit Kili here in Erebor while he recovered.

Upon entering the infirmary wing, Freyja was pleasantly surprised to find Fili speaking with Oin. The eldest prince looked rather dashing himself, wearing a clean, dark green tunic and a pair of trousers with no holes to be seen. Freyja had assumed that Fili would be part of the negotiations, seeing as how he was heir to the throne, but perhaps she had been wrong.

“Fee!” Freyja called, picking up her skirts in order to quicken her pace without tripping over them. The prince turned at the sound of her voice, and a wide smile spread across his bearded face when he caught a glimpse of the dwarrowdam.

“My, my, you look stunning, Freyja!” Fili complimented as she reached him. The dwarf prince took Freyja into his arms and embraced her tightly, and she returned his hug just as eagerly.

“Shouldn't you be with your uncle?” Freyja wondered when they finally separated.

“I was, but he wanted me to check on my brother while there's a brief break. I was just about to head back, actually.” Fili explained.

“How is Kili? Any better?”

“Oin says he's well on his way to healing, but he'll be stuck in that bed for a while longer,” Fili answered, “I'd best be getting back. I'll see you soon?”

“Of course.” Freyja smiled as Fili made his way out of the infirmary. Oin had returned to his rounds, checking on the injured. Luckily it looked like the number of wounded warriors was beginning to decrease, which meant Oin was hopefully getting more time to relax.

Freyja made her way to the end of the hall and opened the door to Kili's private room, finding him propped up against the pillows with a plate of food on his lap. The young, dark-haired prince looked like he had gained some of his usual spark back after resting for a few days, “Who are you and what have you done with Freyja?” Kili asked with a mouthful of food.

“It’s me, I promise, I've just been beautified by a crazy elf,” Freyja joked as she took a seat on the edge of Kili's mattress, “I’m glad to see you've gained your appetite back.”

“Bombur’s got the kitchens up and running again. I can't tell you how excited I was to have something other than stew and bread to eat.” Kili smiled as he shoveled another fork full of food into his mouth.

“I know! I was delighted to actually have meats and cheeses and desserts again.”

“Just wait until the celebratory feasts begin; there'll be so many different foods you won't know where to begin, and you'll hardly be able to fit into that gown when it's over!”

“I have no doubt,” Freyja agreed, “I’m looking forward to seeing the company together again when these negotiations are finally over.”

“As am I,” Kili admitted, finishing off the rest of his food before setting the plate aside, “I'm hoping that someone in particular will be in attendance as well.”

“Tauriel?”

“Any word on her?”

“I asked your uncle to do some investigating last night. I'm hoping Thranduil will be kind enough to tell him where she is.” Freyja explained, her heart breaking at the sight of Kili's disappointment.

“That cold hearted elf won't help us.”

“He just might. Thorin says that they seem to be making progress, and that relations between them are improving now that apologies have been made and accepted.” Freyja tried her very best to turn Kili's mood around and give him some hope. If Thorin couldn't find out where Tauriel was, she would do it herself.

“Please, Freyja, if you find anything out, come to me right away,” Kili begged, “All I can think about while I sit here all day is her, and she's all I dream about at night. I have to see her again.”

“If Thranduil won't give Thorin any answers, I will go to him and seek them out myself, I promise you,” Freyja assured the young prince, though she wasn't sure how such a thing would go over with Thorin. It could likely ruin any and all progress that had been made in repairing the ties between Erebor and Mirkwood, but if it would end Kili’s sadness, she would do it, “Let’s hope your uncle has good news for us tonight.”

“Fili mentioned that Thorin had something nice planned, but I wouldn't wear that new gown of yours for it.” Kili advised, changing the subject to something a bit lighter.

“Why’s that?” Freyja wondered, hoping to get some kind of hint out of the young prince. Certainly, it wasn't a private supper; if it was, Thorin would have instructed her to meet him somewhere such as their bedchambers or even the dining hall. It couldn't be dancing, for Thorin's foot was still recovering from being impaled by Azog’s blade.

“Nice try,” Kili winked, realizing what Freyja was trying to do, “You won't get anything out of me. You'll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

“You couldn't give me one tiny hint?” Freyja pressed further.

“Freyja, I almost died a couple of days ago and I'm just beginning to recover. Do you truly think I want to ruin the surprise and risk being murdered by my own uncle for it?”

...

The rest of Freyja's day was spent wandering the halls of Erebor, familiarizing herself with them. The mountain was one of the largest in Middle Earth and it was full of long, winding hallways and hundreds upon hundreds of rooms. The dwarrowdam must have lost track of the time, because when she finally found herself in the great hall, Thorin was waiting for her beside the massive gates that were still in the process of being repaired.

The king’s back was facing Freyja as she quietly approached him. He was inspecting the work that had been done thus far with his hands clasped together behind his back. Thorin's weight was slightly shifted onto his good foot, but otherwise he was standing tall and proud as a king should, “Have you been waiting for me long?”

Thorin turned at the sound of her voice, and much like Fili had done only hours before, he smiled upon seeing her. His cerulean eyes sparkled as they looked her up and down, taking in her appearance as if it was the first time they had ever fallen on her. Though her braid had loosened slightly throughout the day and Eloen’s gloss had long since rubbed off, she still looked breathtaking, and Thorin was finding himself speechless.

The royal blue gown hugged Freyja’s chest tightly but gradually became more flowy as Thorin's eyes traveled downward. When he reached the bottom of the gown where the skirt was barely brushing against the stone floor, he returned his gaze to her face and found her smiling. Mahal, Freyja was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he couldn't believe that she was real, that she was his to kiss, and hold, and love for the rest of his life.

“What was that?” Thorin asked after clearing his throat, having completely forgotten what Freyja had said.

“I asked if you've been waiting for me long.” She repeated, reaching out to run her hands up the front of his chest, enjoying the feeling of the soft, black material of his tunic over the solid muscle that was hidden beneath it. Thorin's own hands found her waist, and his fingers mindlessly began to stroke the silken material of her new gown.

“Only a few minutes,” Thorin answered, pulling his dwarrowdam flush against his body, “You look ravishing.”

“Damn!” Freyja suddenly exclaimed, causing a bit of an echo to bounce through the great hall. Surprised by her outburst, Thorin raised an eyebrow, “Kili told me I'd better not wear this for whatever it is that you have planned.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“Nothing other than that, unfortunately.” Thorin chuckled at Freyja’s comment, remembering that she didn't quite like surprises and was surely hoping Kili would tell her.

“Never mind what he said,” Thorin assured her before leaning down to place a kiss against the crown of her head, “I have no doubt that you will be able to handle what I have planned no matter what you are wearing.”

...

Outside of the great gates stood Dwalin with the reigns of a dappled grey pony that looked awfully familiar in his hands, “No.” Freyja gasped, releasing Thorin's hand to inspect the beautiful, four-legged creature more closely in the darkening light.

“Yes, lass.” Dwalin nodded, confirming the thoughts running through her head.

“Fritz!” Freyja threw her arms around the pony’s neck and buried her face against it. She could hardly believe it!

“Some dwarves from Ered Luin noticed him grazing beside your barn a couple of weeks after the two of you departed,” Thorin explained as he stroked Fritz’s grey nose, “I suppose when they caught wind of our journey to retake Erebor they figured that you would like to have him back afterwards. He must have found his way home after that pack of wargs spooked all of our ponies.”

“It must have been someone that knew me.” Freyja decided as she released Fritz’s neck to place a kiss upon the soft skin of his nose. His whiskers tickled her face, causing her to let out a laugh.

“Balin mentioned the name Ovar. Does that sound familiar to you?” Thorin wondered, smiling as his dwarrowdam placed kiss after kiss on her pony’s face.

“Ovar was one of my most loyal customers. Is he still here, in Erebor?”

“I’m sure of it,” Thorin answered, “I’ll have Balin track him down so you can pay him a visit and give him your thanks.”

“That would be wonderful. Oh, Thorin, thank you. This is the best surprise I could have hoped for!” Freyja smiled lovingly at both her pony and her One. Dwalin happily passed the leather reigns over to the dwarrowdam and took his leave of them, surely on his way to find something for supper.

“I’m sure you are eager to get back in the saddle, ghivashel. Why don't we take old Fritz for a ride through the field?” Thorin suggested.

“Yes!”

...

Moments later, Freyja was seated side saddle upon Fritz's back with Thorin behind her. His arms were on either side of her body as he held the pony’s reigns, making sure that she wouldn't fall due to the slick material of her gown. Fritz had been wonderfully patient as Thorin slowly and carefully attempted to get up onto his back, multiple times, with an injured foot. The third time had been a charm.

Thorin had given Fritz a slight tap on the side with his good foot, sending the pony forward at a brisk walk through the grass. Though the sky was darkening, Freyja knew that the field was still bloodstained from the massive battle that had just taken place only days ago. Thankfully, the fallen warriors of every army had been moved from the battlefield to be given a proper burial.

“Where are we headed, my king?” Freyja wondered, leaning her head against Thorin's shoulder so that her face was against his neck. The dark fur of his overcoat felt soft against her cheek. The air was cold, but Thorin's body was keeping Freyja plenty warm.

“I have a particular spot in mind that I think you might enjoy,” Thorin answered as he steered Fritz down a path that lead into the forest lining the path to Dale, “It’s not far now.”

For a few moments, the couple rode in silence through the pine trees until the orange glow of a fire appeared in the distance, “Thorin, what is that?”

“The rest of your surprise.” He said simply, continuing to direct Fritz through the pine trees until they came to a clearing where a small bonfire was crackling with a pot of stew sitting over it. There was also a small wicker basket and a large heap of blankets and furs to be found in the clearing.

Thorin brought Fritz to a halt and carefully dismounted before helping Freyja slide to her feet. The dwarrowdam couldn't believe what she saw laid out before her. It looked like one of the many camps that she and the company had set up after a long day of travel during their journey to Erebor, and the sight of it brought tears to her eyes. She could vividly remember Bombur standing over the pot of stew, Fili and Kili joking around with one another at the edge of camp, and the rest of the company chatting and sharing their many tales.

“Thorin, I don't know what to say..” Freyja's voice began to break as the tears spilled down her cheeks. She had been longing for this ever since they had arrived at Erebor.

“Freyja,” Thorin murmured, taking her face gently into his warm hands, “Do you not like it? We can go back to the mountain if you would prefer it.”

“No, I love this. I love it so much.” Freyja practically sobbed as Thorin’s thumbs brushed away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

“There is no reason to cry, my sweet.” Thorin chuckled quietly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Freyja's arms wrapped tightly around his body and her face pressed against his chest. She couldn't explain how happy Thorin's surprise had made her, though the tears and the nearly suffocating hug surely helped him to understand. The dwarf king’s arms came around Freyja's body and held her close while he continued to pepper kisses on the top of her head.

“I love you, Thorin.” Freyja said softly against his chest when the tears finally began to stop.

“And I love you, ghivashel,” Thorin answered equally as soft, “Let’s get you comfortable and warmed up and then we’ll have supper, shall we?”

...

“That tasted just like I remember it.” Freyja laughed as she set her empty bowl aside.

“I had Bombur prepare it for us,” Thorin told her. He was leaning back on an elbow atop the nest of soft furs and blankets he had made up, watching Freyja finish her meal, for he had scarfed his down already, “I thought you might enjoy it.”

“It definitely brought back some fond memories of sitting beside the fire every night, listening to you all chatter and joke.” Freyja lowered herself onto her back beside Thorin and gazed up at him lovingly. She was full, warm, and completely happy.

“It reminds me of the time after you stitched me up beside the river,” Thorin admitted, resting his free hand on the curve of her hip, “When you brought back one bowl of stew and threatened to have me force fed by Oin if I didn't take it.”

“You were being stubborn, what can I say?”

“I didn't want to taste the stew. I only cared about tasting those perfect, pink lips of yours.”

“Thorin!” Freyja gasped before chuckling at his truthfulness.

“While you were stitching my wounds you kept biting on your bottom lip,” Thorin stared at that very lip as he remembered the moment, “Oh, Mahal, I wanted to try it for myself.”

“And did it live up to your expectations?” Freyja inquired as she reached up to bury her hands in Thorin's dark, raven locks.

“Everything about you exceeded my expectations, and continues to do so,” Thorin closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet but heated kiss, “You look beautiful in this gown,” He tugged on her silken skirt gently, “But I'd rather have it off of you.”

Without a word, Freyja sat up and turned her back to Thorin, pulling her braid over her shoulder to allow his fingers to reach the laces of the gown and the corset beneath. There was no hesitation on Thorin's end; he made quick work of them and was pushing the fabric down in hardly a minute, soon leaving Freyja completely bare to him.

Both Thorin and Freyja were eager to feel each other's skin against their own bodies. Though it had only been a day, they had missed each other. Thorin stripped out of his own clothing and tossed the discarded articles aside before gently pushing Freyja onto her back once more and covering her with his own body.

“I think Mera might be offended to know that you prefer the gown off of me.” Freyja grinned up at the handsome dwarf king as one of his hands came up to tangle in her hair and the other wandered down her body.

“I didn't want to risk tearing it. I'm sure she'd understand.” Thorin buried his face against the sensitive skin of Freyja's neck and began placing kisses along it. Meanwhile, his left hand had found her core, and his thumb was rubbing her clit in slow circles.

“Someone is eager tonight.” Freyja’s chuckle was cut off by a low moan when Thorin slid one thick finger inside of her.

“It seems I'm not the only one,” Thorin answered, hotly whispering the words into her ear at the feeling of the slick wetness between her legs, “I thought of you all day during those blasted negotiations.”

“I completely forgot to ask you how it went!” The haze of lust surrounding Freyja mind cleared for just a moment, “Did you reach an agreement? What happened?”

“Of course you wait to ask me this until I'm about to stick my co-,”

“Well?!”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Thorin slowed his ministrations between her legs and propped himself up on an elbow once more, “There will be peace. Erebor will return Thranduil’s white gems and give Bard the gold his people need in order to restore Dale to its former state. We will also allow their wounded to remain here as long as it is needed for them to recover. In return, Mirkwood, Dale, and Rivendell will become loyal allies and dare I say friends to us and Erebor. After we have given Thranduil and Bard what has been promised, they will hand over the Arkenstone as well so that it may take its rightful place above the throne.”

“That is excellent news, Thorin,” Freyja couldn't help but smile up at her One, “This was a much better outcome than I was expecting.”

“Thranduil, Bard, and Lord Elrond have decided to remain in Erebor to witness my coronation and partake in the celebration that will follow it.” Thorin added.

“And what of Tauriel?” Freyja inquired, though she was afraid to ask.

“I have asked Thranduil to join us for lunch tomorrow, and we shall discuss the matter with him at that time,” Thorin answered, “Does this suit you?”

“Us? As in me and you?”

“And Fili, and Kili, if he is feeling well enough.”

Freyja could hardly believe his words. She was to meet with Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, face to face, “Are you sure that you want me there? I’d hate to ruin the peace that has just been made between our lands.”

“Freyja, in the time that I have known you, I have watched you befriend the most unlikely people, including myself. You are likeable, charismatic, and well spoken. I have no doubt that you of all people will be able to reason with Thranduil.”

“But..”

“Hush, ghivashel,” Thorin murmured, returning his lips to the soft, sensitive skin of her neck as his fingers once again began to work in and out of her, “This evening was meant as a time for both of us to relax and enjoy one another. There will be time for worrying tomorrow.”

Damn Thorin and his low, seductive voice, Freyja thought to herself as she relaxed against the soft furs beneath her. He was right, though, so the dwarrowdam pushed any and all thoughts of Thranduil and Tauriel out of her mind as her One worked to please her. Within minutes, her body was shaking, on the edge of orgasm, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Thorin's teeth were gently nipping at her earlobe, his fingers were curling inside of her against that sweet, sweet spot, and his cock was hard and leaking against her thigh.

When she reached her end, Freyja's nails dug deeply into Thorin's arms, and her walls clenched around his slowing digits. Without hesitation, Thorin removed his fingers from inside of her and replaced them with his cock, pushing into her slowly and groaning at the feeling of her squeezing around him. Freyja's legs hitched up and around Thorin's waist and her hands ran up his chest until the came to rest at his shoulders. Their hazel and blue eyes met when he was finally fully seated inside of her, and then he began to move.

Freyja silently hoped that they were far enough from the gates of Erebor that no one would hear them, for she was crying out with every rough snap of Thorin's hips. His thick cock was stretching her deliciously, and it was hitting that special spot enough to have her quickly reaching her second orgasm.

Feeling how close she was, Thorin slowed for a brief moment in order to take hold of Freyja's legs and push them up and back so that the tops of her thighs were practically against her chest and her legs were draped over his shoulders, taking the place of her hands. From this new position, Thorin was deeper inside of her than he ever had been before, and it had Freyja moaning.

The dwarf king resumed his quick, rough pace, pounding into Freyja until she came once again, this time clenching around his cock instead of his fingers. The tight squeezing was enough to have Thorin quickly approaching his own end, and when he did, he let out a loud groan and lowered his head to rest against Freyja's.

Both of them were exhausted and covered in sweat as Thorin released Freyja's legs and lowered himself onto her to rest for a few moments, but neither seemed to care. Thorin buried his face against Freyja's neck, where he had left more than a couple of love bites and closed his eyes. Freyja's hands came up to stroke up and down his muscular, damp back as she gazed up into the night sky, watching the stars twinkle and the moon shine above them.

“Thank you for this, Thorin. It was the best surprise I could have ever imagined.”

“You are most welcome, ghivashel,” Thorin answered, “I hope you can learn to enjoy surprises, because I have many more planned for you.”

Chapter Text

“I'm going to tell that elf what's what.” Kili declared as Fili and Freyja helped him hobble through the halls of Erebor toward the private dining room where they would meet Thranduil shortly.

“Oh, sure you will, Kee.” Freyja chuckled, looking over to Kili's other side to meet Fili's eyes. He and Freyja shared a look and then rolled their eyes. Kili was in no shape to be arguing with the Elvenking, or anyone, for that matter. He was still in the process of recovering from his nearly deadly stab wound. Thorin hadn't even wanted Kili to come to this unofficial meeting, but the young prince had insisted that he be present seeing as how he was the one who was inquiring about Tauriel to begin with.

“We don't want to piss him off after we just formed a friendship with him, brother,” Fili pointed out, “Uncle will kill us if we ruin all of his hard work.”

“Fili is right. Thranduil won’t tell us anything if you go in there and start running that mouth of yours.” Freyja agreed with the elder brother’s statement. The three dwarves continued slowly through the halls of Erebor until they came upon the large doors of the negotiation hall. Freyja released Kili and allowed his elder brother to take the full weight of him as she stepped forward to open the doors. Fili and Kili nodded in thanks and proceeded forward into the hall. Freyja allowed the doors to fall shut behind her and followed the brothers around the long, wooden table. There at the very end of the table stood Thorin, and a tall, blonde-haired elf. For a moment, Freyja almost thought that the elf had been Legolas, but upon a closer look, she realized that it was not. This elf was taller, his hair was also longer and a platinum shade of blonde. His locks fell straight and loose behind his head, and a silver crown sat atop it. His robes were the same silver color as his crown, and they looked to be made from some extravagant material. Much like the gown Freyja herself was wearing.

Fili nodded respectfully to the Elvenking and his uncle before helping Kili to sit in one of the chairs at the table. Kili, though reluctant, followed suit, greeting Thranduil silently before taking a seat. It was then that Thranduil turned his gaze to the approaching dwarrowdam. Freyja’s eyes met his, and she found that they were a beautiful, crystal-clear blue, sitting beneath dark, thick, but well shaped brows, “Thranduil, you have already had the pleasure of meeting my eldest nephew. Allow me to introduce you to my youngest, Kili, and my future queen, Freyja.” Thorin’s deep voice broke the silence.

Without a word, Thranduil extended his hand to Freyja, palm up. She rested his hand in his and allowed the Elvenking to lean down and press his thin lips to the back of her hand in a respectful greeting, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Freyja. I had no idea that a dwarf could be so beautiful.” Thranduil’s voice was deep, much like Thorin’s, but it was smoother and as soft as the material of the robes he wore.

“The pleasure is mine,” Freyja smiled, “I had no idea that an elf could be so polite.”

Thorin visibly stiffened after hearing Freyja’s comment, afraid that she had offended the Elvenking. But soon after, Thranduil rumbled with laughter, surprised at the dwarrowdam. He released her hand and pulled out the nearest chair, motioning for her to be seated, “She’s quick. What a lucky dwarf you are, Thorin.”

“Lucky I am, indeed,” Thorin answered, beginning to relax as Freyja sat. Thranduil rounded the table and sat across from her, “Lunch will be arriving any moment. Bombur has put together somewhat of a feast for us this afternoon.” Thorin announced as he took his own seat at the head of the table. Almost as if Bombur had heard Thorin speak, the doors at the end of the hall opened and in came a string of dwarves in aprons, carrying various platters in their hands. At the front of the line was Bombur.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Lunch is served.” Bombur announced, motioning for his kitchen workers to place their platters upon the table in front of the seated dwarves and elf. Each dwarf revealed a delicious looking food as Bombur placed a plate, a glass, a fork, a knife, and a folded cloth in front of the brothers, Thorin, Thranduil, and Freyja. By the time the kitchen staff was finished, there was a wide variety of foods to choose from sitting on the table. There was meat, cheeses, bread, fruits, vegetables, biscuits, and a pitcher of water and wine.

“Thank you, Bombur. Everything looks excellent as always.” Thorin spoke, dismissing his fellow company member and the many dwarves that had assisted in the delivery of their meal.

“It is my pleasure. Enjoy.” Bombur smiled. With a wave of his hand, he and his staff exited the hall, leaving the four dwarves and one elf to their meals.

“Shall we dig in? I can hardly wait another moment.” Fili said as he began to reach for the nearest platter.

“Allow our honored guest to fill his plate first, Fee. There will be plenty for us all,” Freyja answered, nodding to Thranduil, “I will pour the wine.”

As Thranduil began to spoon various foods onto his silver plate, Freyja stood and took the pitcher of red wine in hand, beginning to pour some into each glass. When she reached Thorin’s, she met his eyes. The two of them shared a loving look as she filled his glass, “Thank you,

“Thank you indeed,” Thranduil added as he finished filling his plate, allowing the starving young dwarves to begin serving themselves, “This looks to be a wonderful lunch, but I can’t help but wonder why I am the only guest that was invited.” He said as he plucked a bright red berry from his plate.

“I have invited you on behalf of my nephew, Kili. There is some business that he has been wanting to discuss with you for some time now.” Thorin answered as he forked various meats onto his plate. Freyja finished filling the glasses and took her seat once again, spooning the rest of whatever foods were left onto her own plate.

“And what might that be?” Thranduil inquired before popping the berry into his mouth, gazing across the table to meet Kili’s dark eyes. The young dwarf seemed to be at a loss for words, as he didn’t quite know how to ask for what it is that he wanted. As Thorin had mentioned to Freyja before, Tauriel had committed an act of treason against the Elvenking during the Battle of the Five Armies. Thranduil likely wouldn’t enjoy the mention of her name, as she had been banished from the Kingdom of Mirkwood.

The young dwarf swallowed his food, took a swig of his wine, and spoke, “During our time in Mirkwood, an elf by the name of Tauriel guarded our cells...” Kili’s voice trailed off as a Thranduil ceased chewing and rose one well-manicured brow. He then shifted his gaze to his uncle, as if asking permission to continue. Thorin nodded his head slightly.

“We then encountered her again in Lake-town. She saved my life. In fact, she’s saved it more than once.” Kili added hesitantly.

“And what is it that you wish to know about the traitor?” Thranduil asked, dropping his fork onto his still full plate. The Elvenking’s jaw clenched tightly, as if he were remembering whatever it is Tauriel had done to betray him.

“In truth, I wish to know her whereabouts.” Kili answered promptly.

“Why might that be?” Thranduil countered.

“I’ve come to admire her greatly in the short amount of time that we’ve known one another...I would like to see her again.”

In that moment, Thranduil threw his head back and let out a mighty laugh, as if Kili’s statement had been some sort of grand joke. As the Elvenking carried on, Freyja met eyes with Kili and gave him a nod of encouragement.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, but..”

“Sounds ridiculous? It IS ridiculous,” Thranduil’s laughter cut off, “Are you even aware of the crime she committed against her king and her people?”

“I heard rumor of her pulling a bow on you during the battle.” Fili answered for his younger brother.

“Precisely.”

“May I ask why she would do such a thing?” Freyja interjected. She was more than a bit curious as to why Tauriel would commit such an act. She seemed to be a loyal subject to her king while the company had been locked up in Mirkwood, so this appeared rather out of character.

“I suppose it was her form of persuasion,” Thranduil answered, leaning back in his chair while he ran one slender finger along the rim of his wine glass, “My army was beginning to dwindle, and the orc army seemed to be doing the opposite. I had called for my warriors to cease fighting to prevent more losses. Apparently Tauriel found it to be a cowardly decision, and so she threatened to end my life if I did not allow my army to stay and fight.”

“A loyal guard would not argue the word of her king.” Thorin spoke gruffly between bites. Freyja glanced over at her One, surprised that he would say such a thing. She had been under the impression that Thorin would side with Kili, but it seemed as if he were agreeing with the Elvenking. Perhaps he was doing so to protect the newly formed alliance between Erebor and Mirkwood.

“Sure, she had a lapse in judgement, but her heart was in the right place. You have to admit that,” Fili countered, “She was thinking of all of us; the dwarves, the men of Lake-town. She didn’t want to leave us for dead.”

“Where was her consideration for her own people? She would rather have more of her own kin die on the battlefield than let the dwarves and men fend for themselves.” Thranduil practically spat.

“She is selfless. It is an admirable quality, and it is one of the things I’ve come to love about her the most.” Kili said softly, pushing his plate away, having barely eaten anything on it.

“Love? You think that you are in love with Tauriel? You are a foolish dwarf.”

“You may call me whatever you like, but I do love her, and I want nothing more than to be with her. I would give up my royal title if that’s what it would take.” Kili gushed; his voice full of love. Freyja’s heart ached for the poor dwarf.

“Your uncle would never allow such a thing, especially for an elf. I am sure that he agrees with me.” Thranduil turned his icy gaze to the head of the table where Thorin sat, leaned back in his chair with his glass of wine in hand.

“You are correct,” Thorin nodded, “I would never let Kili give up his status to run off with a woman, let alone an elf.”

“You see..”

“However,” Thorin cut off the Elvenking, “I believe there could be an alternative that would please everyone. Perhaps a year ago, I would never even consider allowing any nephew of mine to be involved with an elven woman, but in the past few months, I have discovered that love is something precious that should be held onto and cherished,” Thorin’s eyes met Freyja’s, and his hand came to rest upon her thigh beneath the table, “We cannot control who we fall in love with; it is something that happens on its own. My nephew has fallen in love with Tauriel, and so I will do whatever I can to help him be with her if it is what will make him happy.”

“What would you suggest?” Thranduil inquired, seemingly calmer than he previously had been. Perhaps Thorin’s speech of love had softened the Elvenking.

“I suggest that Tauriel should come and live here, in Erebor.”

“Ah, yes. Allowing her to live within the mountain with the dwarf that she has foolishly fallen in love with will surely be a fitting punishment for the crimes she has committed against her king.”

“I was not quite finished,” Thorin added, “She would not simply be allowed to laze about all day as if she were an honored guest; she would be put to work wherever it is needed. Perhaps in the reconstruction of Erebor, in guard work, or even assisting my royal advisor, Balin. I am sure that we could find a good fit for her expertise.”

“It may not be prison, but I am positive that many elves would say that being forced to live in Erebor is punishment enough.” Fili joked.

Thranduil sat in silence, continuing to fiddle with his wine glass as he locked eyes with Thorin. The Elvenking seemed to be in deep thought, as if he were truly considering this offer. In Freyja’s eyes, he had no reason to say no. This was the perfect solution to the situation. Tauriel would be given a home, and work, in the very same place that the dwarf she loved would be. It also meant that she would be far, far away from Mirkwood and Thranduil, which would not interfere with her exile. Beneath the table, Freyja squeezed Thorin’s hand in her own as they awaited Thranduil’s response.

Finally, after what seemed like centuries of silence, the Elvenking spoke, “I believe that love between an elf and a dwarf can never last, but if it is truly what your nephew wants, then so be it. I will have my scouts locate Tauriel and inform her of your offer. After that, my part in this is finished, and I will hear nothing of her again.”

...

Thranduil excused himself from the hall not long after he informed the dwarves of his decision. After the doors slammed shut behind the Elvenking, Kili couldn’t help but celebrate. He pulled his elder brother into a bear hug, laughing all the while. Freyja smiled widely at the sight, feeling excited for the young dwarf. It seemed that now everyone would have what they wanted.

“Well done, my love,” Freyja congratulated as she leaned over to kiss her One upon the cheek. Thorin smiled faintly in response, “Are you alright?” She asked lowly as the brothers continued to celebrate behind them. Her own smile began to fade only to be replaced by a look of concern.

“I will be fine, ghivashel,” Thorin assured her, though she wasn’t convinced, “I must be on my way to speak with Balin and make arrangements. I will see you this evening.”

With that, Thorin rose from his seat at the head of the table and began to make his way slowly toward the doors, his foot clearly still tender. As he passed Kili, he gave the young dwarf a pat on the shoulder, and then continued walking. Freyja’s eyes followed him until he disappeared through the doors. She could tell that something was troubling him, but she would have to wait until this evening to speak with him about it.

“Well, boys, shall we begin to clean up some of this mess for Bombur?”

...

The sun had set by the time Thorin returned to their bedchambers. Freyja was curled up in the armchair that sat in front of the hearth, where she had started a crackling fire to warm up the room. The dwarrowdam had been close to dozing off when the doors gently pushed open and Thorin slid through them. The sound caused her to perk up a bit, for she lifted her head from the arm of the chair to look at her One.

“Hello, my darling,” Thorin greeted softly, shutting the doors behind him before hobbling over to the hearth. Freyja lifted herself from the armchair, allowing Thorin to take a seat, “I thought you might be asleep by now.” He said as he lowered himself onto the cushion of the chair, pulling Freyja gently into his lap along with the blanket she had wrapped around her body.

“I tried my best to stay awake for you.” Freyja said through a yawn. She propped her legs up over the arm of the chair so that she sat sideways upon Thorin’s lap before resting her head against his chest. She was exhausted. The day had been long, for after the meeting with Thranduil concluded, she had escorted Kili back to the infirmary only to be roped into assisting Oin for a few hours.

“You need rest, ghivashel. I don’t want you losing sleep over me.”

“I had to stay awake or else I wouldn’t have had a chance to talk to you until who knows when.”

“Well, I am here now. What is it that you’d like to speak about?” Thorin questioned, resting his lips against her forehead as his fingers combed through her silky hair. Freyja’s eyes drooped shut despite her fighting to keep them open.

“After Thranduil left the hall today you seemed troubled.”

“Ah.”

“So please tell me what it is that’s troubling you.” Freyja insisted drowsily.

“Why don’t we speak in the morning after you’ve rested?” Thorin wondered, continuing to press kisses against his sleepy dwarrowdam’s forehead, hoping to lull her to sleep right there in his arms before the fire.

“No, no, no,” Freyja’s eyes snapped open and tilted her head to gaze up at her One, “Your tricks won’t work on me, Thorin Oakenshield. Now tell me what’s going on, please.”

Thorin sighed, allowing his own eyes to fall shut as he leaned his head against the back of the armchair. He had plenty on his mind at the moment, but he didn’t want to unload everything onto his One and cause her any stress. However, he knew that if he kept it bottled up, Freyja would continue to insist that he tell her, so there really was no point in fighting it.

“I fear for Kili.” Thorin mumbled.

“In what way? Oin says he will fully recover from the wound so there really isn’t...”

“I am afraid that he will be scorned by our people for loving that elf.” Thorin interrupted sternly. His eyes opened slowly, meeting Freyja’s. She couldn’t quite place the emotion that she saw there. Worry? Concern? Anger? Perhaps a combination of them all?

“Are you not happy for him?” Freyja wondered.

“I don’t necessarily approve of this coupling, but I knew that if I did not step in and help Kili, he would do something stupid in order to be with the elf.”

“Such as abandon his title and leave the mountain...” Freyja suggested softly. Thorin answered with a nod of his head, “So that left you to choose between two options, neither of which you liked.”

“I suppose I would rather have my nephew in Erebor, where he is safe, and where he belongs...which is why I will allow this elf, Tauriel, into my mountain,” Thorin admitted, “However, I know that the majority of our people will frown upon them being together, which will lead to disrespect, bullying, hate...perhaps even violence.”

“Do you really think that your people would try to lay a hand on the king’s nephew? A prince of Erebor? Surely no one would be stupid enough to even consider it.” Freyja argued. Such an act would be considered treason and would be punishable by exile or even death.

“You would be surprised at what hate can make people do, my love.”

“I hope that they would treat both Kili and Tauriel with respect, especially considering the fact that Erebor is now in an alliance with Mirkwood. It’s high time that dwarves and elves put their differences aside and become friends.”

“In a perfect world, it would happen that way, my dear,” Thorin answered, leaning down to capture Freyja’s lips in a kiss, “If only everyone shared your open mind and heart.”

The couple sat there before the fire, wrapped up in one another, sharing slow, sweet kisses. Thorin seemed calmer, and more relaxed, now that he had gotten his worries off of his chest. Though the problem still stood, there was nothing anyone could do about it as of right now. This was an issue that would have to be faced down the road. If the dwarves of Erebor were going to show their prince disrespect, then so be it. Freyja would do everything in her power to defend Kili and Tauriel, and she knew that Fili and the rest of the company would do the same.

After a few moments, Freyja pulled away gently to gaze up at Thorin, “Well, not everyone can be as perfect as me, I suppose.” She said with a smile.

Thorin chuckled, leaning down again to rest his forehead against her own, “No one could possibly hope to even come close.”

“I don’t know about that...I’d say that you come pretty damn close, but I am still just a tad more perfect.”

“Oh, is that so, little mountain troll?” Thorin grinned, pinching Freyja’s sides, causing her to break out in a fit of laughter.

“Y-yes!” Freyja managed to say between giggles. The dwarrowdam squirmed in Thorin’s lap as he continued to tickle her sides, chuckling all the while, “Let me goooooo!”

“Let you go? Not in a million years.” Thorin’s grip tightened around Freyja’s waist as he ceased his tickling. The king swept her up into his arms, bridal style, and rose from the armchair, slowly making his way across the room towards the bed. He was still hobbling a bit; Freyja knew that if Oin were to walk in at this moment he’d scold Thorin for even attempting to put so much weight in his injured foot.

Upon reaching the foot of the bed, Thorin lowered his One onto the silken sheets. Instead of standing back up, he stayed leaned over so that he was face to face with Freyja. Thorin’s eyes locked with her’s; the worry that had once been there had been replaced with desire, “I may not be as perfect as you are, ghivashel, but perhaps you will allow me to prove how perfect I am for you.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Freyja inquired as a Thorin’s fingertips slipped beneath the hem of her nightgown and began to skim up her calf. The feeling of it made her shiver in anticipation. Thorin grinned devilishly as his fingers continued to trail up the length of her leg. When they reached her thigh, he dragged them over the top, and then to the inside, where her skin was soft and sensitive.

“I believe that you already know the answer to that question...” Thorin murmured. Indeed, she did. By the end of that statement, Thorin’s index finger had found Freyja’s opening, which was already becoming soaked due to his ministrations, “Wet for me already, I see..”

Thorin leaned forward, closing the gap between his and Freyja’s faces to claim her mouth with his. They kissed with hot, fiery passion as Thorin’s finger continued to circle Freyja’s entrance, until suddenly he was pushing it deep within her. Freyja pulled away slightly to gasp at the feeling of it. Thorin took advantage of this, sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste her.

Freyja looped her arms around Thorin’s neck for stability as he continued to pump his finger in and out of her. She felt as if she would fall right off the edge of the bed if she didn’t hold onto her One, “More, please..” She managed to choke out into his ear.

“More of what, love?” Thorin growled, burying his face into Freyja’s neck to place heated kisses along her sensitive skin. Freyja’s head instinctively rolled to the side, exposing herself further to his lips and tongue.

“More...” Thorin chuckled at her vague response, sliding another thick finger into her, “Mmm.” Freyja moaned, completely overwhelmed by the sensations she was feeling. The fingers stretching her open, pressing against that special spot deep within her, and Thorin’s warm lips sucking on her neck.

“That’s what you needed, hmm?” Thorin murmured against her neck.

“Need your cock.” Freyja answered, releasing one of her arms from around Thorin’s neck to run her hand down his chest, then his abdomen. She fumbled with the laces of his trousers until they were loose enough so that she could slide her hand inside. There she found his cock, completely hard and waiting for her attention.

Freyja freed him from the confines of his trousers and began to stroke him up and down gently. Thorin groaned as he continued moving his fingers within her, increasing his pace. Freyja followed suit.

Suddenly, as if he couldn’t stand to wait any longer, Thorin pulled his fingers out from inside of Freyja and grabbed her by the waist, forcing her to lay upon her back. He then yanked her down the bed so that her lower half was hanging off the edge. Freyja hitched her legs around Thorin’s narrow waist as he worked on bunching her nightgown up above her waist. Not a moment later, Thorin was sliding his cock deep inside of her.

“Oh, Mahal,” Freyja cried, arching her back off of the bed. Thorin took no time for Freyja to adjust; instead, he pulled his length completely out of her, and then forced himself back in roughly, “Thorin!”

The king took off at a steady pace, looking down to watch his lover’s face react to the immense pleasure she was feeling. He watched as her head tilted back, her eyes snapped shut, and her lips parted to release a string of moans. Thorin’s gaze then moved down her body until he came upon her breasts. How delicious they were, bouncing beneath her thin nightgown with every thrust he gave her. His eyes shifted further down where his large, calloused hands gripped her waist, and then they continued until he was watching his own cock disappear within her.

Thorin increased his pace, fucking his lover roughly. He continued to watch where their bodies met, until Freyja’s moans became incredibly loud. Thorin’s eyes flickered back to her face, where he found her eyes wide open, watching him fuck her just as he had been.

Suddenly, without any warning, Freyja threw her head back against the sheets and let out a deafening cry. Her entire body began to shake uncontrollably as she came, and Thorin could feel her insides clenching around him, causing him to cry out as well. Though he wanted to stop and savor the feeling, he continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

“Thorin!” Freyja screamed, reaching out with trembling hands, trying to push her lover away. The brutal pace was too much for her, as she was still extremely sensitive from the incredibly powerful orgasm Thorin had given her.

Thorin captured Freyja’s hands in his, pinning them above her head, continuing to push in and out of her roughly, “You asked for my cock, so you will take it until I’m finished with you.” He growled in her ear. He was close to reaching his own end.

“Y-yes, my king...” Freyja cried, squeezing her legs tightly around her lover.

“That’s my good girl.” Thorin growled, pumping into her, his pace becoming erratic. With a groan, he spilled into Freyja. He slowed his hips and then came to a stop, his breathing heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead. The exhausted dwarf lowered himself onto his lover gently, burying his face into her neck, giving her gentle kisses there.

The couple laid there for a few moments, allowing themselves both enough time to recover from their vigorous bout of lovemaking in silence. Eventually Thorin lifted himself up and off of Freyja to stand at the foot of the bed. He offered her his hand, helping her up and into a sitting position.

“Thorin..” Freyja murmured.

“Yes, my love?”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

The pair of them burst into laughter as Thorin hoisted her up and carried her off in the direction of the bath chamber.

Chapter Text

The eve of Thorin’s coronation had finally arrived. The week had been incredibly hectic, to say the least. Planning the ceremony had taken priority over just about everything else, so nearly every dwarf in the mountain had been scrambling to make sure things would be ready. Fili and Balin had taken charge of inviting guests and making overnight arrangements, Bombur had an army of cooks preparing menus and meals, Dwalin had been overseeing security, and the rest of the company filled in wherever they were needed.

As for Freyja, she had been working tirelessly alongside Oin. Though the battle for Erebor had been a few weeks ago, a great many warriors were still bedridden in the infirmary, struggling to recover from their wounds. Her days had been spent changing bandages, applying salves, and even spoonfeeding those that were too weak to feed themselves. The work was hard and exhausting, but it was also rewarding. Each day it seemed as if another dwarf was finally well enough to leave the infirmary.

Though Oin insisted that the dwarrowdam may return to her bedchambers each night, for he was more than capable of handling the night watch on his own, she found herself wanting to stay. Thorin was busy overseeing the planning of his coronation all day and well into the night, which meant that Freyja had been sleeping alone. She knew not to take it personally, as Thorin was about to be king and needed to attend to important matters, though that didn’t stop her from missing him dearly.

Almost as if he had been listening to her thoughts, Oin approached Freyja, wiping his hands clean with a rag, “Take the rest of the night off, dear. Thorin’s outside waiting for you.”

For once, she was actually eager to leave, “Are you sure? I can stay longer if you need me.” Freyja answered, looking up from the medical tools she had been cleaning. Please let me go, please let me go, she thought to herself.

“I’m sure. Now off you go. I’ll be seeing you tomorrow at the coronation.”

“Not in that, I hope.” Freyja joked, nodding to the bloodstained apron Oin wore tied around his waist.

Oin chuckled as he shooed Freyja from the basin, taking over where she had left off. Freyja untied her own apron and hung it up beside the door. She quickly smoothed down her fly-always before opening the door leading out into the hallway, where she found Thorin standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked wonderfully regal in his royal blue tunic, though she could tell he was exhausted by the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Freyja smiled, reaching up to tuck her arms around his neck. She planted a kiss upon his lips as his own arms wound around her waist, “Shouldn’t you be off planning a coronation?”

“Balin can handle the last few details,” Thorin returned her kiss, letting his lips linger against her for a long moment before speaking again, “I’ve been neglecting my queen as of late, so I’ve come to steal her away for yet another surprise.”

“Another surprise? Thorin, you’ve already given me so much. The dresses, the romantic picnic by the campfire...”

“This surprise cost me nothing at all, I promise you.” Thorin assured her, pulling out of her embrace to take her hand in his. Intrigued and curious, Freyja allowed Thorin to guide her through the halls of Erebor until they reached a familiar corridor. It was the royal wing, where their bedchambers were located.

“Well we certainly didn’t have to travel far, did we?”

“No, but the surprise waiting for us certainly did.” Thorin answered, stopping in front of an unfamiliar set of doors. The soon to be king extended his hand, rapping his knuckles against the extravagantly carved doors. A moment later, the doors were pulled open to reveal Fili.

“There you are!” The eldest prince exclaimed, stepping aside so that the couple could enter. The chambers must be Fili’s, for she recognized his dual swords mounted upon the wall above the crackling fireplace. Sitting upon the loveseat before the fire was Kili, and a dwarrowdam she hadn’t met before.

As Freyja approached, she noticed that the dwarrowdam looked oddly familiar. Her hair was long and raven colored, with streaks of silver throughout. Her nose was sharp, and her eyes were the same sparkling blue as Thorin’s. She sat with her arm lovingly wrapped around the youngest prince.

“Freyja, I would like you to meet my sister, Dis.” Thorin announced.

The dwarrowdam rose from the loveseat with her arms extended, “So this is the one I’ve heard so much about.”

“Only good things, I hope.” Freyja laughed as she allowed Dis to pull her into a tight embrace. Freyja noticed that Dis was a bit taller than herself, much like Thorin. She also smelled of a sweet, surely expensive perfume. Freyja was suddenly self-conscious of how she smelled after working in the infirmary all day. Dis didn’t seem to mind.

“Absolutely. Thorin could hardly shut up about you when I arrived this morning,” Dis chuckled, leaning back to take a good look at Freyja, “Beautiful eyes, healthy hair, and a gorgeous figure. Mahal, I’d kill to be young like you again.”

“Nonsense, you’re gorgeous. Though I might be biased, as you look remarkably like your brother.” Freyja grinned, looking back at her One. She found a warm smile upon his own lips.

“Brother, you need to get to work immediately. I’ve waited decades for nieces and nephews!” Dis exclaimed, peering around Freyja to glare at her elder brother. Freyja could feel her cheeks begin to turn red at the thought of ‘getting to work.’

“Amad, they’ve been plenty busy, I assure you,” Kili informed her. Fili responded with a well-placed smack on the back of his younger brother’s head, “Hey, I’m still recovering from a near fatal stab wound, no smacking!” Freyja’s blush only grew brighter.

“I’m glad to see that the journey has matured the two of you,” Dis said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. Despite her comment, Freyja could see the love Dis had for her two sons. The mother was most likely filled with relief now that the journey to retake Erebor was over. No more long, lonely nights wondering how her brother and two sons were faring. Dis sat between the two of them and took hold of their hands, “Speaking of the journey, I’d love to hear all about it.”

With that, Thorin took a seat in the large armchair across from the loveseat, pulling Freyja into his lap. Fili and Kili had already begun to narrate the story of the company’s journey, starting with their very first meeting in Bag End, “You should have seen it, Amad, Freyja out drank Dwalin!” Freyja couldn’t help but smile at the memory. It seemed as if it had just happened yesterday, though it had been over a year.

All the while, Thorin held onto his dwarrowdam, nuzzling into her neck, placing soft kisses there. Every so often, Freyja would chime in, adding an important detail to the story the brothers missed. However, she was content simply listening as Thorin cradled her in his arms.

...

By the end of the night, Freyja had felt as if she had gained a sister in Dis. Though Dis looked like her brother, she was lighthearted like her sons. Freyja enjoyed her company greatly, and she hoped to spend more time with her in the near future.

“Ready to retire, ghivashel?” Thorin murmured, noticing that her eyes were growing heavy. Freyja answered with a sluggish nod of her head.

“I’d say it’s about time we all retire,” Dis chimed in, “Tomorrow is a big day for all of us, especially you, Thorin.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Fili yawned. Beside him, Kili was already snoring.

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Dis,” Freyja stood up, leaving Thorin’s lap to pull Dis into another warm embrace, “I will look for you tomorrow at the coronation.”

“I will look forward to it. Perhaps afterwards we can discuss wedding plans?” Dis offered, a wide smile upon her face. Oh, Freyja hadn’t even begun to think about how much planning her wedding would need, “I’m assuming he’s proposed already.”

“Well, not officially.” Freyja answered. Though Thorin had made it clear that he intended to wed her and make her his queen, he hadn’t yet ‘officially’ proposed to her. Freyja didn’t really mind this, however. She didn’t need some grand gesture to know that Thorin loved her and wanted to marry her.

“Brother, what in the name of Mahal are you doing? Give this girl a ring!” Dis demanded, nearly waking Kili from his slumber on the loveseat. Though Thorin was a mighty warrior, who had faced trolls, goblins, orcs, shapeshifters, and even Smaug with no fear, Freyja could see that his sister slightly terrified him.

“I have every intention of doing so,” Thorin assured Dis as he wrapped his arm lovingly around Freyja’s waist, gently pulling her towards the door, “When the time is right.”

“Sooner rather than later, I hope. Remember what I said about nieces and nephews!”

“How could I possibly forget, dear sister?”

...

Upon arriving at the king’s bedchambers, Freyja collapsed into the massive bed, completely exhausted from her long day in the infirmary and the small gathering with Thorin’s family that had lasted well into the night. As she laid there, gazing up at the canopy, Thorin threw a few logs into the hearth and went to work on starting a fire. Soon enough, a warm, orange glow began to fill the spacious room.

The soon to be dwarf king, satisfied with his work, stood up and made his way to the bed where his dwarrowdam lay. As he approached, Freyja propped herself up on her elbows so that she could get a good look at him.

Mahal, how did she get so lucky? She could hardly believe that he was real, for he looked as if he belonged in an artist’s masterpiece. His eyes were a stunning blue that sparkled even in the dim light of the room, and his dark, silver-streaked hair was braided so beautifully down his back. His body seemed as if it had been created by the finest sculptor. He was perfection. Nothing could ever compare, not even the view of Rivendell at sunset.

“See something you like?” Thorin smirked, standing at the bedside. He had been standing there for a moment actually, watching Freyja’s eyes scan up and down his body in silence.

“Yes, actually. Everything from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.” Freyja answered, sitting up fully and scooting to the edge of the bed so that she could wrap her arms around Thorin’s waist. She pressed her face against his chest and inhaled deeply, simply enjoying the feel and the smell of him, as she hadn’t been able to in nearly a week.

As his dwarrowdam embraced him, Thorin began working on removing the messy braids from her hair. His calloused hands unclasped the silver beads holding her hair together, and then gently ran his fingers through her dark, thick mane, untangling as he went. When Freyja allowed a satisfied moan slip, Thorin chuckled, continuing to stroke her beautiful locks.

After a few moments of massaging her scalp, Thorin then moved down further to unlace the corset of the simple gown she wore. Freyja let out a long sigh of relief as the dress loosened, now feeling completely comfortable, “I’m spoiled rotten.” She drawled; her words somewhat muffled due to her face being pressed against Thorin’s front.

“Indeed you are, amrâlimê.” Thorin murmured, running the tips of his fingers along the exposed flesh of her upper back. He traced along the few scars there that came from Smaug’s attack on Erebor so very long ago.

“You deserve to be spoiled too.” Freyja said, looking upwards to meet Thorin’s gaze. She really didn’t need a true proposal, she thought to herself. She could see how much the dwarf loved and cherished her just by looking into his eyes.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Freyja answered, gently pulling Thorin down so that he sat upon the edge of the bed. She then got onto her knees and positioned herself behind Thorin, following the very routine he just had performed on her. The dwarrowdam began by removing his hair beads, and then carefully untwine his many intricate braids until his raven mane was completely loose.

“Going to unlace my corset next, I hope. I haven’t been able to breathe all day.” Thorin joked.

“Please, as if you need one.” Freyja giggled, dragging her fingertips down his back towards the hem of his tunic. She took hold of the fabric and pushed it upwards, revealing the skin of his back. Thorin raised his arms up, allowing her to pull the tunic off completely.

“I will soon enough,” Thorin sighed, “Bombur’s extravagant meals are already beginning to fatten me up, and it’s only been a month since we’ve been here.”

“That’s nonsense, and well you know it.” Freyja murmured, pressing her lips against the top of his head as her hands came to rest on his shoulders. She then went to work, massaging the knots and tension out of them; it was clear that he had been hunching over his desk far too much this past week.

By the time she reached his lower back, Thorin had completely unraveled into a moaning mess. Satisfied that she was able to relieve some of the pain her dwarf had been feeling, Freyja smiled.

“There...” Freyja cooed, bringing her hands back upwards to gather Thorin’s long locks into a ponytail, pulling it aside so that she could press a dozen kisses against his neck, “Now you will be completely relaxed for your big day tomorrow.”

Silently, Thorin leaned forward, pulling off each of his fur lined boots, then standing up to unbuckle his silver belt and remove his trousers, “I’m not sure if I will ever be completely relaxed again, but I appreciate your wonderful efforts, ghivashel,” He smiled weakly, “Let’s get you into something comfortable, hm?”

Before she could answer, Thorin was turning on his heel, making for the wardrobe. As he dug through the neatly folded articles of clothing, Freyja stood up and allowed the gown to slip from her shoulders and flutter down to the floor, leaving her in nothing, much like Thorin was. As her One continued to search for nightclothes, she approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her front flush against the warm skin of his back, “I can tell that you are worried.” She murmured.

“I suppose I am.” Thorin admitted.

“Forget the nightclothes, darling. Come to bed with me.”

Thorin reluctantly ceased his search, closing the drawer and allowing his dwarrowdam to guide him back to the silk sheets of their bed. Freyja climbed onto the mattress, settling in the very middle of it with her head upon the pillows. She extended her left arm, asking wordlessly for Thorin to crawl in beside her.

Thorin accepted her invitation, resting his head upon her soft bosom, wrapping his arm around her smaller body, and entwining his leg between hers, “Do you remember the night those trolls stole our ponies?” Freyja wondered, breaking the silence.

“How could I possibly forget?” Thorin answered, allowing himself to chuckle softly.

“That was the night we were to share a tent.”

“Indeed it was.”

“Do you also happen to remember what I told you while we laid in that tent?”

“I believe it was something along the lines of you always being available to me should I need to speak of my troubles.” Thorin recalled as Freyja’s hand began to stroke his hair calmly.

“The offer still stands.” Was all Freyja said in response. She knew his impending coronation had him anxious. Though Thorin was a brave warrior and a brilliant leader, he was still unsure of himself and his ability to rule a kingdom.

Thorin let out a ragged sigh against Freyja’s chest, “All my life, I have been preparing for this moment. In fact, I’ve looked forward to it. My grandfather always told me that I was meant to be king, and I believed it. Now, I am not so sure.”

“He was right,” Freyja assured him, placing gentle kisses upon his furrowed brow as her fingers continued to soothingly comb through his locks, “You led the survivors of Smaug to Ered Luin and helped them establish a home there. You single handedly turned the tide of the Battle of Azanulbizar. You gathered a small company of dwarves to take back Erebor and succeeded. You are meant to be a leader, Thorin, you excel at it.”

“Perhaps on the battlefield I am an acceptable leader, but on the throne? I am not so sure.”

“You were able to negotiate a peace treaty with Mirkwood, Dale, and Rivendell. I’d say you are a successful politician as well.”

“I achieved that with the help of Balin.” Thorin muttered.

“What about it? Every great king relies on the assistance of his advisors,” Freyja countered, “You will never be alone in this, my love. You will have Balin, Fili, Kili, and myself at your side, always.”

Another sigh. Only this time, it sounded relieved. Freyja pressed her lips against Thorin’s forehead, simply resting them there for a moment. He wrapped his arm more tightly around her in response, pulling her flush against his solid body, “Perhaps you are right..”

“I always am. You should know this by now.” Freyja grinned, meeting Thorin’s eyes. She was happy to see that they no longer seemed to be filled with worry or fear. Instead, she found peace. Her One propped himself up on an elbow so that his face hovered above her own, and then leaned down to take her lips into a sweet, passionate kiss. Oh, how she had missed this.

Thorin allowed his lips to linger upon Freyja’s for a long moment before pulling back to meet her eyes. Mahal, how had he found this treasure? Freyja was everything that he could possibly need and want in a wife and queen. Kind, intelligent, strong willed, a good friend to his nephews, sister, and company, and a vision of beauty. Every time he looked into those hazel eyes he felt as if he were falling into them.

“Do I have something on my face?” Freyja wondered, shaking Thorin out of his thoughts. She was smiling that brilliant smile of hers again, causing his heart to skip a beat.

“Yes, you do. Right here,” Thorin winked, placing a kiss against the soft skin of her cheek, “And here,” Another kiss, “And here.”

Freyja giggled as her One smothered her with kisses, until his lips returned to cover her own once more. Their mouths moved together slowly, sweetly, passionately, until Freyja let out a prolonged yawn. With that, Thorin pulled her close, covering their bodies with the sheets, and kissed her one last time before the two of them began to doze off.

“Goodnight, ghivashel.”

“Goodnight, my king.”