The Dragons' Daughter (Thorin Oakenshield/OFC)

Happy Families

Bard walked through the front door to his house, his son Bain at his heels and food in his arms. His youngest daughter, Tilda ran and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"Da!"
He returned the hug, grinning as he then turned to Sigrid, his eldest daughter.
"We didn't know if you'd be back." Was all she said, smiling slightly at her father. Bard smiled back, before turning to Bain.
"Let them in." He said, the boy darting off to the latrine. Bain looked around himself before knocking on the wall above the small toilet. After a few seconds, a very wet, very irritated looking Dwalin.
"You tell this to anyone boy," he growled, pushing away the boy's offered hand, "and I'll rip you to pieces."
One by one, the bedraggled company lifted themselves from the toilet, all of them looking less than happy about the situation, and poor Bilbo looking more like a drowned rat than a hobbit at the present moment. When Clarrei pulled herself out, she laughed to hear a girl's voice saying:
"Pa, why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet?"
And a little voice reply with excitement:
"Will they bring us luck?"
"Maybe not, little one, though they might empty your food store." She joked, as the little girl watched her with wide eyes. Clarrei smiled at the little one and followed the Company into the living room.
"You can stay here for the night, then it would be better you were on your way." Bard was saying to Thorin. The dragon frowned. They still had a week to go until they had to leave for the Lonely Mountain. What were they to do? Camp with their no supplies and non-existent tents? But she held her tongue as Thorin spoke with their temporary innkeeper. To her relief, there was a crackling fire in the grate, and she joined Bilbo in the comfy seats. The hobbit smiled at her.
"How are things going?" He asked, tilting his head towards Thorin. Clarrei couldn't help but let a smile creep across her face.
"Very well," she said, fondly laying a hand on the gem against her throat. "But he's been awfully nervous around me recently. It all started after we got away from Mirkwood." She added, brushing away a dripping tendril of hair. "I've absolutely no idea what's wrong with him."
At that, Bilbo suddenly went red and started stuttering.
"Me n-neither." He said, avoiding her curious eyes.
"Are you alright Bilbo?"
"F-fine." The hobbit muttered, awkwardly sliding down in his seat, as though he wanted to sink into the cushions with embarrassment. Clarrei was about to push on when a hand was laid on her shoulder. She looked up, smiling as Thorin placed a blanket around her shoulders. He returned the smile, sitting on the arm of the chair and gently tilting her head up to kiss her. She gently rested her head against his forearm, humming contentedly as Thorin gently stroked her hair. Clarrei opened her eyes and blinked in surprise as she saw Tilda, Bard's youngest daughter, watching her and Thorin with wide eyes.
"Are you two married?" She asked innocently. At that, both Clarrei and Thorin blushed, and the dragon blurted:
"Not yet."
There was a chorus of "Ooooh" from the Company as they all smirked at the embarrassed couple. Bard just muttered under his breath:
"I knew it."
Even Bilbo smiled as Thorin raised an eyebrow.
"Not yet?" The dwarf asked, cheekily.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Interjected the hobbit, chuckling as Clarrei buried her head in her hands, groaning.

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Thorin stared out of the window, lost in memories. From where Bard's house sat in Lake-Town, he had a perfect view of the great crossbow that sat atop a nearby watchtower. A Windlance. It had been 60 long years since he had seen one of those. And the last time he had, he had been fleeing for his life. A sudden snapping of fingers in front of his face made him look away. Bilbo stood in front of him, looking confused.
"Are you alright Thorin?" He asked, his little face concerned. "What are you looking at?" He asked, peering out for himself.
"A Windlance." Balin answered for his friend, who seemed unable to speak. "During the taking of Erebor, that was the one weapon that had a chance of destroying Smaug."
"Along with one thing." Thorin added, darkly. "A Black Arrow."
As the hobbit's eyes widened, the prince explained.
"A Black Arrow is the only kind of weapon tough enough to pierce a dragon's hide. The Lord Girion of Dale was rumoured to have three of these Black Arrows, and fired on the beast as he attacked the Mountain, and all missed."
The bowman watched the dwarf thoughtfully.
"You speak as if you were there." He said suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Thorin, and the prince could see their host's mind working furiously. He thought on his feet, wanting to keep his name silent.
"All dwarves know the tale."
"If you knew the story," Bain, Bard's son said defiantly, "You would know that Girion hit the dragon. He knocked a scale loose, directly over its heart."
Behind him, Dwalin chuckled.
"That's just a fairy-story, lad."
Thorin didn't answer, instead finding his eyes draw. To where Clarrei sat with Bard's daughters, braiding Tilda's hair while having her own hair done by Sigrid. She was smiling and laughing, her beautiful ocean eyes sparkling with life. A little smile twitched at the corner of Thorin's mouth as he watched her. And for one brief moment, Thorin found himself picturing the two younger girls with red hair, or maybe black? He went pale, awkwardly clearing his throat. Mahal help him, he was picturing Clarrei as the mother of his children. He met eyes with her, and returned her smile as she continued talking to the girls. Giggles from his two nephews made him shoot a glare at the mischievous two.
"And what is so funny?" He asked, stalking over to where Kili lay on a chair, his brother in fits on the floor next to him. The two straightened up, struggling to keep straight faces, their lips quivering and cheeks turning steadily pinker with strain from not laughing.
"Nothing." Fili spluttered, avoiding his uncle's steely eye. Thorin growled, seeming to tower over them, but nothing dampened the boys spirits.
"You were staring!" Kili crowed, as his uncle went red.
"And why should that matter?" Thorin spluttered, ignoring the flush of warm in his cheeks. "We are courting, in case you forget?"
Still the boys giggled.
"You weren't watching her like you normally do." Teased his eldest nephew. "You were watching her with Bards kids like mother used to watch me with Kili when we were younger. Like you watch your family." He finished, smiling. Thorin flamed and made 'shushing' movements with his hands, looking back at the rug frantically, finding to his relief that Clarrei was still preoccupied. He turned back to his nephews, and Kili asked him as he nursed his leg,
"When are you going to ask Auntie to marry you?"
Thorin paused, thinking back to the riverbank. Had he not been interrupted by the sudden arrival of Bard, he would have proposed there and then. He looked to his curious nephews, trying to avoid the eyes of other members of the Company. He gestured to the little veranda that lay behind them. Exchanging surprised looks, they followed him.