It is their wedding night. Bilbo wears a white dress that accentuates her curves, her copper hair braided back and flower shaped jewels weaved into it. Thorin wears her finest as well, something a bit more dwarvish, a dark blue robe with silver threaded patterns on it showing the symbol of Durin.
Bilbo leans into her chest, and Thorin breathes in the smells around her. Dinner has just ended, the royal feast over. Now, all eyes are on them.
It was Bilbo's idea to do this. Dancing was not a very dwarf thing, but Bilbo had insisted that some traditions must have been followed. Thorin had allowed it.
She leads the way. There is many things that Thorin has now that Erebor is reclaimed. She has her kingdom and her wealth. Her people return by the day. The woman she loves has agreed to marry her.
Nothing could make her happier at the moment. Her grandfather's death is avenged. She is the ruler of Erebor and all bow to her.
She has gold and jewels. She has power. She even has made some allies with other nations (though some are closer than other).
She also has two left feet.
Bilbo guides her along, and slowly (after nearly hitting a few tables), very slowly, she begins to move along with her. The muffled laughs stop and the room falls into silence other than the musicians hired to play. Every eye in the room is on them, all seeming to be equally captivated.
It's strange, but she's happy. Her hands come around Bilbo's waist and she looks down into her eyes.
They continue around the room. Later she will have to ask just where Bilbo learned to do this so gracefully.