A/N: And here is the last chapter, what a bittersweet moment… :') But it was a great ride, wasn't it, my duckies?

A/N#2: My wonderful dearreader, the finale is all yours, and what a majestic ;) finale it is!

The time Thorin was felled by a bee sting, while Wren made it all better.

And hilarious when paired with the previous one, your much older one:

The time Wren saves him once again, he wakes wounded and she is there to help take care of him. Then she bullies him into getting better by appealing to his desire for her, an excellent motivator. A sip of soup for a kiss, he fights for life because she loves him and he has to try harder to get well. A lot of healer tent sex, it is a great cure for wounds, the elves say so. Thorin and Wren are great at improvising and won't let a few bandages or stitches get in the way.

Years went by, and life in Erebor was peaceful and prosperous. Trade was blossoming between the city of Khazad, the quickly restored city of Dale, the Laketown Esgaroth, governed by its new Master, and the halls of the Elvenking. On the South the Valleys of Anduin became safe lands under the reign of Beorn the Skinchanger, him and his men guarding the Ford of Carrock and cleaning the Misty Mountains of goblins.

In Erebor King Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror ruled his people fairly and firmly, his Kingdom quickly returning to its former glory and prosperity, and equally quickly it wealth exceeded the one from the olden times twice in size. The line of Durin was secured when several years later a male child was born in the marriage of King Thorin's older nephew.

As for the King himself, he was happy and satisfied in his, given, illicit association with a small woman of Men. Not his wife and not his Queen, she nonetheless spent at least half a year in his chambers, his son Dain always returning with her from their travels. Bright beyond his age, beautiful and an excellent swordsman, Dain, son of Thorin was the pride and the joy of Erebor.

The winter of the year that concludes this story was exceptionally severe, and it seemed the nature was determined to seal all possible entrances and exits from the Lonely Mountain. The King was busy commanding his people's efforts to survive the snowfalls and storms that seemed to torment the mountain, shaking it to its core, snow penetrating windows and gates, seemingly trying to find its way into the Erebor halls.

Thorin was talking to Gloin on one of the walls, studying the schematics of one of the fortiments that were destroyed in a storm the night before, when he heard horns of the Front Gate guards announce arrival of guests. Thorin looked down and saw two small cloaked figures enter through a side door. One of them pushed the hood off, and he recognised the flaming locks of his mistress. His lips twitched in a small smile, and Gloin took schematics out of his hands. Thorin patted his shoulder and rushed down the stairs. She was already running through the yard towards him, her small feet in fur adorned boots quick and light, and her body slammed into his, hands flew to his face, and he caught her red lips in a passionate kiss. She had been away for seven months this time, and for the first time since he had met her in an inn in Bree all those years ago Thorin felt that he would not be able to let her go ever again. He kept on pressing her into him, his hands roamed her slender body, and he clenched his jaw fighting sudden tears. His heart had longed for her too painfully this time. He felt he was growing old, and suddenly he knew he didn't want to waste a single other day by not seeing her near him.

"Maiar, I have missed you..." She breathed out into his ear, her arms tight around his neck, and he heard her voice shake.

Dain was standing a few steps behind them, a soft smile on his lips, and Thorin caught his eyes over the shoulder of his beloved. Dain nodded to his father, and Thorin grinned back. His eyes quickly studied his son, and he felt his heart soar with pride and love. With Orcrist clasped to his back, Dain was the man every Dwarf hoped his son to grow into. Dain's green eyes shone with love and respect in return, and he waited for his father to release the small woman in his arms. Keeping the fingers of his left hand intertwined with Wren's, Thorin stepped to Dain and pulled him into a tight embrace with another arm, pressing his temple to his son's forehead, feeling the strong Dain's arm clasp around his shoulder.

"Lanz galikh, adad." Good evening, father.

Snowflakes were softly falling on their heads, Thorin pulled Wren into the tight embrace as well, and she wrapped her arm around the narrow waist of their son. All three of them stood in silence for a few minutes, and then the small thief loudly cleared her throat.

"Well, enough of this mawkishness. I'm starving. We managed to lose our provisions on the outskirts of Esgaroth and decided to push through to Erebor, so I feel I could eat a roasted hog now." Thorin laughed merrily, and the three of them went inside his halls.

"Oy ulnas sanakhiya yadi haggunul?" So, love, do you come here often? Thorin's tone was playful, and as a response he received a sensitive blow into his face with a pillow. He guffawed, another smack followed, and he shielded his head with both arms, which left his sides defenseless, and a pair of small strong hands rushed into an assault. He roared with laughter and lunged at her, grabbing her wrists, pushing his face into her stomach, scraping his beard to it, and it was her turn to shriek and try to escape.

Another hour later, sated and exhausted they lay in the bed, and she suddenly giggled. He hummed questioningly. She was stretched on him, her little deft fingers playing with his chest hair, and she nuzzled his skin, still flushed and tingly after the exertions of the past three hours.

"You are growing old, my King. Look at all this grey hair." She threaded her fingers in his chest hair, and he smiled blissfully.

"And you haven't changed a bit. The same impudent little thief I was an idiot to pay for a night with." She chuckled and bit into his shoulder with a fake growl. He snortled, and she slightly rose above him.

"You are shamelessly flattering me, which is rather pointless at this stage. You have already snatched my virtue just now," she giggled, and he gave her a look from under a lifted brow, "Six, no, wait… Seven times, so why bother charming me now? And so unblushingly!" She tut-tutted, "I am faring a decent amount of grey hair these days as well, it is rather hard to ignore." She lifted the heavy mass of her copper curls with one arm, most of the silver in her hair was hiding underneath the still orange waves on top, but it was indeed hardly unnoticeable. "I am approaching the middle of my fifth decade, my King." Her tone was no longer playful, but soft and full of melancholy, and he pressed her into him more firmly.

"You are still the same naith, the same girl," he whispered into her wide open eyes, and she grinned widely to him, seemingly shaking off her gloom. "You and your anaith."

"You love my giggles!" She swatted his chest, and he caught the small hand and pressed to his lips.

"I adore your giggles, and still, I do see the same girl in you."

"And you are still the same smooth talker, sweetpea," she purred and straddled him. He gave her a lopsided smirk and cupped her small buttocks.

"What interesting events had happened while I was away, my King?" This time they had truly exhausted their strength, and she curled into him, her voice sleepy, and he was lazily running his fingers through her hair.

"Nothing indeed. Trade, forges, King Thranduil's visit two moons ago..." Thorin yawned widely, his eyes were closing, and she sighed contently into his skin. "I got stung by a bee in the autumn..." She snorted and poked his ribs with her little finger.

"And you have found it worthy of mentioning, why, my lord?"

"It hurt," he aimed for a pitiful tone, but couldn't contain a chuckle, "And there was no one here to take care of me." She giggled and kissed his shoulder.

"You do like me taking care of your wounds, don't you?" She purred probably from some pleasant memories, "I do remember your injuries from the Battle of Five Armies being quite substantial and requiring a lot of medical attention." She yawned as well, "Lots of thorough attention..."

"Yours were much more severe, my heart..." He smiled softly recalling the days of the past.

"We were so reckless then," she murmured into his skin, her eyes closing, "If not for our dalliances, we could have healed twice as fast… We kept on overstraining ourselves, and the stitches would come undone..." Her voice was growing softer and softer. He looked at her lovingly and kissed her temple. "And I would repeat it all over again..." And then she was asleep, and he kissed her hair again.

"I would too, my love, I would too."

Three moons later Thorin was engaged in a heated dispute with a few engineers in his study when the doors suddenly burst open, and she rushed inside, her hair scattered on her shoulders, cheeks burning, dressed in her habitual sleeping attire, a thin tunic and black lace trousers, a long silk robe thrown over them hastily, the belt untied. The robe was thrashing behind her like wings of a raven, she was as much as running, and he froze with a parchment in his hand. The jaws of the Dwarves in the room slacked. She had never been seen in such state of undress, never without her jewels, and especially never in a state of such agitation.

"Forgive me, my lords, but I… I need to speak to the King immediately." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of the study. He hurriedly pushed the scrolls in the hands of the closest of his counsellors and followed her. She was pulling, he felt increasingly worried, the whole happenstance was so unusual that he felt panic rising, and suddenly she jerked a random door and pushed him in. He realised they were in a linen closet, and he grabbed her shoulders.

"Wren, what?..."

"I can't walk anywhere else, I need… I need to tell you..." She was wriggling her small hands, her eyes were shining feverishly, and she suddenly pushed her fingers into her copper curls and pulled. He had never, in almost two decades of knowing her, had seen her composure slip thusly.

"What is it, my heart?" He suspected the worst. War? Plague? Something had happened to their son? To her? Was her health in danger? He threw a panicked look over her. She looked well, and again, she resided in his chambers, and he knew she was in exceptionally good health. She looked well too, her cheeks were rosy, eyes and hair bright, and he slightly shook her shoulders hasting her. "Wren?"

"I thought it was over, I honestly did!" She spoke feverishly, swallowing halves of words, and he couldn't understand anything. "It's the age, it made perfect sense. It was to happen, and it was time… So I paid it no heed." She was convincing him in something, but the meaning eluded him. She suddenly pressed her hands to her cheeks, her brilliant eyes wide open. "But I mourned, Thorin, I mourned so much, and I regretted… Now that it was over, I suddenly started thinking I should have returned earlier, should have stayed, when there was still a chance..." Suddenly her eyes were filled with tears, and she sobbed. "I never regret anything, I lived the life I had chosen, but when they were gone I regretted..." That was the end of his patience, and he snarled and shook her quite harshly.

"Mahal, woman, will you start making sense?! What happened, in the Durin's name? Who was gone? What have you done? What are you regretting?" Long forgotten feeling of jealousy and suspicion flooded him, and he growled.

She started laughing suddenly, and he dropped his arms staring at her. Had she gone mad?

"My monthly pains are gone, Thorin." He blinked and raised his hands in a questioning gesture. If she hoped this explanation helped him, she was cruelly mistaken. "I thought I was growing old, and I haven't even thought of… It was time, and I didn't count and stopped following..." She laughed some more, perhaps from his dumbfounded expression, and then she grabbed his hand and pressed it to her stomach. "Nu'dashat, Thorin." Your second son, Thorin.

He stood for a few seconds, almost not understanding, and not daring to believe, and then he fell on his knees in front of her, pressing his face into her stomach, through the gauzy fabric of her tunic, not hiding his tears, and she stroked his hair, her own tears running down her cheeks unrestricted.

He was kissing her stomach, his palms splayed on her lower back, he was murmuring words of love and gratitude, and then he pulled her down, into his arms, catching her mouth and laughing and crying with her, and finally he rasped, "You are not wandering away from me ever again."

"Lo sullu batazzinîn luzun." Not all who wander are lost, she answered and kissed him ardently, "And I have found a place to stay."

Final A/N: My darling dearreader, and all of you, MY GLORIOUS READERS, none of my fics will be abandoned completely! Now that I have more free time, I am planning to finish them ALL, I was merely asking which ones people would like to see completed first!

The plan for the nearest future is such:

1. "convince me the winter is over" is still running (it is my most favourite fic of all);

2. Harry Potter crossover is what's mostly buzzing in my head;

3. and now I'm going to start picking up some older, 'paused' fics.

So please feel free to PM or leave a review and tell me which of them you would like to see me to return to!

LOVE YOU ALL, my darlings!