The Gathering Storm. The Hobbit fanfic. A Thorin Oakenshield love story.

Chapter 72: You Should Never Underestimate Dwarves.

I dedicate this chapter to ThorinsChild110 . Thank you so much for helping me out when I got stuck. :)

As they slowly danced Taryn sighed, as she lifted her head. Looking behind Thorin, she glanced around the large room. Dwalin was sitting at his table, somehow still awake. He had a mug of ale in his hand, but he was not drinking it. Empty mugs sat all over the table, evidence of a drinking contest. Taryn sadly chuckled to herself as she remembered how heated the drinking contests use to get back in the old days. She tilted her head to the side and saw Bofur passed out underneath the same table. He was babbling in his sleep, something about winning.

Balin and Bilbo sat at the same table, though at the far corner. Balin was muttering to Bilbo about making his brother head to bed soon. Bilbo just nodded his head, as the Hobbit glanced around the room at the drunken Men and Dwarves. His eyes landed on Taryn's own pale blue eyes and he thought he could see a sadness in them.

Although she had stumbled into the room and told Thorin what had happened. The couple had not told anyone else about Taryn's situation. Taryn sighed as she looked from the sleepy looking Hobbit back to Thorin. She laid her head on his left shoulder and looked up at his face. His sapphire blue eyes looked glazed over, as if he had been crying. She could see evidence of tears, streaked down his face. It was obvious that he like her was worried.

She took her hand that was around his neck and reached up to his face. Resting her hand on his cheek, she slowly wiped away the tears with her thumb. Taryn felt his chest rise and fall, as he let out a sigh and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Avo drasto," Taryn said with a sigh to him. She rested her hand on his cheek, brushing his beard with her thumb. "Savo amdir, Aran vuin nîn."
(Don't worry. Have hope, my beloved King in Sindarin).

Thorin frowned, not knowing what she had just said. "What does that mean?" He silently asked her.

Taryn inhaled deeply. "It means: don't worry," she replied to him. "Have hope, my beloved King."

Looking down at his wife, Thorin nodded his head. He let go of her waist, using two fingers to pick up her chin. Thorin sighed as he cupped her cheek and looked at her lovingly. With one swift motion, he wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Men lananubukhs menu Athanu men," he said to her in Khuzdûl, kissing her forehead. "And I will not let Alfrid get away with hurting you and possibly hurting our child."
(I love you my Queen in Khuzdûl).

Taryn blinked several times, as she let out a long exhausted sigh. "Please don't go getting yourself in trou..."

Thorin cut her off, by cupping both her cheeks and crushing his lips down on to hers. Taryn sighed into the kiss, as she wrapped her hands around his neck and let her fingers get tangled in his long raven hair. They both held onto each other tightly, as they groaned and squeezed their eyes shut. They both silently prayed to Mahal and Eru that their unborn child was okay. Bilbo sat in the corner watching the Mountain King and his Queen. He could see the tears rolling down both of their cheeks, and he wondered why they both looked so sad.

Fíli and Kíli had long ago lost count of how many mugs of ale they had drank. They conked their current mug of ale together, raising them up in the air. "Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go," they both sang in unison. Although their voices were slurred, they still managed to sing clearly and loudly. It was a Hobbit drinking song that Bilbo had taught them earlier in the evening.

"To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by."