Three days. It had taken three days to dispose of their dead, building many pyres and burning all the bodies of their kin. They had stood vigil the last night, as the ashes of their beloved dead floated away on the sighing wind, each of their heads bowed. There had been no feasts, no songs, no celebrations. This was not a victory. It was a survival. And they were all only alive thanks to their king. Arien knew that the custom of the dwarves was to lay their dead in great tombs, but to gather all the bodies and make tombs for each of them... It would have taken months. Years. Therefore to fire they had turned, and she was sure the smoke from the great pyres they had built had been seen from Lothlorien.

Now what remained of the host was marching back to the Blue Mountains, led by Thorin Oakenshield. As Arien had thought he would be, her king had been named after his heroic deed with Azog, had been hailed as their king. Thorin Oakenshield. She loved the sound of it, the strength and loyalty and courage it signified. But they had not only been led by Thorin. She had been by his side as his queen, he had told her, with one of the only smiles she'd seen on his face since he'd returned from searching for his father. He had not found him. Thrain's body was not amongst the fallen, nor was he among those who had survived. Arien knew it was tearing Thorin apart, the not knowing, the feeling of failure. Arien had told him again and again that it was not his fault, but he would not listen.

Yet the loss of his grandfather and father wasn't the only thing that grieved him, that made him only able to find amusement rarely. As he had searched the bodies, he had found the face of his brother, Frerin, and Dis's husband Farin amongst the fallen. They were both gone, dead and burned, and Arien knew Thorin wished he could've taken Farin's body back to his sister. But it was not possible. The army had enough to carry, what with having stripped the dead of their clothes and weapons so that orcs could not come and win a store of blades and armour.

Arien now lay wrapped in Thorin's arms, the steady, deep breathing and strong heartbeat of her king so comforting. The camp was filled with the sleeping sounds of what remained of the host, and yet Arien half wished that she and Thorin were alone. They were on the edge of the camp, shielded by an outcrop of bushes from the rest of the army, Thorin's body –– which was practically a furnace –– protecting her from the cold. She felt so safe, wrapped in his warmth, and yet...

She couldn't sleep. She didn't know why. She knew it was selfish of her, but part of her wanted to talk to Thorin, even though he needed rest as much, if not more, than she.

"Thorin," she said cautiously.

"Mmmm?"

"Are you asleep?"

"I'm not now," he murmured, his breath warm on her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have woken you."

"No," he said, his voice thick with tiredness. "It's all right. What's wrong, Arien? Why can't you sleep?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I know it's been three days, but I think I'm still wired up from the battle. I still wake up afraid you're dead."

"I am not dead, Arien," Thorin told her, that deep rumbling voice unexpectedly comforting and reassuring. "I promise you I will not leave you. If Death tried to separate us... I would find you again. I don't care how many rules it would be breaking. If I had to fight the Valar themselves, I would find a way back to you."

She was silent for a moment, unable to put into words how much she loved him, how much she knew she would do for him. They did not speak for a while, until Arien finally said

"So, you're king now. How are we feeling about that?"

He shrugged, lifting a hand to trace the contours of her face. "I'd rather not be king," he murmured. "I am afraid that I will fail me people. And I know that I will make mistakes, but it is my duty to protect them. So that is what I will do."

Arien wriggled round to face him. His knuckles grazed her lips as she smiled. A soft moan escaped her as she closed her eyes for a second, savouring his touch. "You will be the best king, Thorin," she told him, forcing herself to focus. "And listen, when you make mistakes, I will be there for you. Whatever happens."

He smiled back. "Together?"

She nodded. "Together."

Arien cupped his cheek in her hand, savouring his warm skin, the scratch of his beard.

"What about fun?" she asked quietly. "What about doing something –– for yourself?"

"I don't believe in fun."

Arien couldn't help it. She leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed him deeply, then grinned at him.

"We make our own fun."

He groaned as she kissed the hollow of his throat, his skin warm and inviting, groaned loudly enough that Arien was afraid someone would hear, but when Thorin Oakenshield pulled her toward him and claimed her mouth with his, his tongue brushing against hers, the silken heat of his lips was enough to make her ignore common sense for a while.

But the kiss was gentle, sweet, his hands equally so as they stroked the hair from her neck, as they trailed over her hips, her ribs. She dragged her fingers into his dark hair as she arched up into him, craving the weight of his body on hers. He growled, the sound of it resonating in her chest as he shifted, positioning himself above her. His hips ground against hers in a way that made heat scorch through her, made her own body undulate against his in answer and demand.

Thorin kissed her deeper at that request, a hand sliding down to grip her thigh, spreading her legs a bit wider so he could fully settle between them. And as all of him lined up with her... She was panting as she ground herself against him, as Thorin tore his mouth from hers and kissed her jaw, her neck, her ear. She was trembling with want and desire as Thorin's tongue flicked the skin where her neck met her shoulder, tantalising, taunting.

She took his face in her hands, knowing why he needed the contact, to reassure himself that she was alive –– not gone. That he had not lost her. She needed the same. Arien found his eyes blazing, his breathing as ragged as her own.

She ran her fingers from his cheek down the strong column of his neck, right beneath the collar of his tunic. His skin was like velvet wrapped steel, like heated silk. He shuddered at the touch, head bowing so his long hair spilled onto her brow, and his hips drove into hers just enough that a small gasp came out of her. More –– she wanted more. But...

"Someone might hear," she whispered, and his eyes met hers.

Desire, need, burning lust shone in those midnight pools of blue.

"Good," he growled, his hand running up her thigh in a claiming, possessive touch that had her shuddering, arching into him. His teeth nipped the weak spot on her neck, the other hand gripping her hips. "Good that they know who you belong to."

Shit. Oh, shit.

"Thorin, please," she breathed as he undid the buttons on her trousers, as she let go of him to wriggle out of them and leave them lying on the grass beside them. He growled as he took in the sight of her, as he gripped either thigh and spread her legs, baring her fully for him. She dug her nails into the muscled, warm skin of his back in silent demand. Thorin kissed her navel, then her hip.

She couldn't take her eyes from his dark hair, shining with the light of a thousand stars glimmering and flickering above them, from the hands holding her wide for him as his head dipped between her legs. And as Thorin tasted her in that war camp far from either of their homes, as he laughed against her skin while she gasped and moaned, biting her lip and clenching her hands into fists to keep from screaming his name, Arien knew that no matter what might befall the world, no matter if it was crumbling and shattering around her, if he was by her side she would not balk, would not break or fracture or fall. If he was by her side, she would go on fighting, go on struggling, until she found a place, a world, where they could live in peace, where neither of them would ever again experience pain or loss or grief.

No matter what she had to sacrifice, she would find that world for them. One day. And then they would learn how to relax, how to sleep through the night. How to live.

Together. From this day until Death arrived to claim them, they would be together. Always.