Lynsby was a village halfway between Bree and the Hills of Evendim to the north-east. It was quiet, peaceful and somewhat isolated: from other villages and, even more, from non-human inhabitants of Middle-Earth. While on a busy market day in Bree it was not unusual to see Dwarves drinking with Hobbits and Men arguing with Elves over the price of apples, the people of Lynsby rarely saw anyone not of their own kind.
But there was a period of seven years when this changed: a new settlement arose in the hills near the village. Upper Lynsby, as it soon came to be called, was home to a colony of dwarves. They said they had come from a mountain far away to the east and needed a temporary dwelling before they find a new home in the mountains. The people of Lynsby, a little apprehensive at first, soon realised that the exchange of labour and goods would be to their mutual advantage.
Seven years later the dwarves left for the Blue Mountains, and after a while the years they spent there would almost seem like a legend, had not Upper Lynsby remained there. Grass covered its streets now and the walls were overgrown with ivy, but the wooden doors still held carved images of stars and mountains and armoured, bearded warriors.
"No place will ever compare to Erebor, but this is quite nice," the older dwarves would say of Upper Lynsby. But to Dís, who had been a child when the dragon came, Erebor was a blurry memory, and Upper Lynsby was the best place she could remember living in.
When Thror's folk first settled outside the village they built small, wooden cottages, with barely enough room for sleeping and with windows covered in oiled cloth. The workshops were more important than the cottages – it was there they would spend every waking hour. As years went by, the cottages were renewed, expanded and reinforced with brick and stone, glass panes were added to the windows and the wooden doors were decorated with elaborate carvings, small echoes of the palace beneath the mountain. Although, for a dwarf, nothing could compare with the secure feeling of being surrounded by stone, these homes of brick and wood were a big improvement after years of wandering around and sleeping under the open sky.
Less than a year after her people had settled in Lynsby, Dís visited Mr and Mrs Stitchwort' tailor shop for the first time with her mother. They had saved some gold coins and wanted to have new overcoats made for the upcoming winter. Upon hearing their order Mr Stitchwort gave them a scrutinizing look, noting their worn and frayed clothes, and told them he would only accept if he could see their money first. Mrs Stitchwort looked at him with clear annoyance and Dís felt a rush of anger, but her mother showed no sign of being hurt by the tailor's request. She calmly took the gold coins out of her pocket, and Mr Stitchwort softened in an instant. His wife invited the two dwarf ladies to the adjoining room to take their measurements in private, and spoke as soon as she closed the door behind them:
"I apologise for my husband's behaviour, Mistress. He is too used to seeing people with the eyes of a tailor only. He looked the state of your clothes – how thin they've been made by wearing and washing, and how they have been repaired over and over again for years – and that was all he needed to know. But I don't think he was right in doubting you would pay him – it isn't right to accuse a stranger of dishonesty because of the state of their clothes."
Dís's mother said: "There is no need to apologise. I completely understand Mr Stitchwort – I wouldn't offer my ware to anyone who couldn't afford to pay for it either. Every craftsman deserves a proper reward, and a healthy amount of doubt never hurt anyone." She said this proudly and graciously, and Dís thought she had never seen her seem so regal, not even in those distant days in Erebor when she stood with her husband beside the King's throne.
Mrs Stitchwort seemed to like this answer. "That's true," she said and gave a polite . "My name is Bertha Stitchwort, Mistress."
Dís's mother bowed back and said: "Jora, daughter of Snari, at your service. And this is my daughter Dís, daughter of Thrain."
Dís also bowed and added "at your service", thinking how good it felt finally to meet someone who was nice to them.
But that was six years ago, and the dwarves' circumstances changed a lot since then. It was a warm day in the second moon of summer, and Dís was, once again, walking through the village to the Stitchworts' tailor shop. This time she was in the company of her friend Birna and her parents. They were going to make orders for Birna's wedding. All four of them were finely clad, and the village folk recognised them and greeted them with respect. Dís walked arm in arm with her friend, beaming with pride.
Birna was the most beautiful girl in the dwarf colony, her face framed with shiny, dark hair and dark sideburns. During the past year she had been helping her parents with their jewellery-making, and the dwarf who was now her betrothed, Gloín, son of Groín, was the youngest member of an expedition to the Blue Mountains, where the dwarves were hoping to settle one day. The expedition returned with good tidings: the mountains were rich in ore; they had encountered no Orcs on the way; the Men and Elves who lived in the area didn't seem hostile and their settlements seemed to be small and widely scattered, leaving large parts of the mountainside uninhabited and unclaimed.
While Borin, the leader of the expedition, was reporting all this to king Thror, Gloín stood beside him, silent, upright and proud. Birna was standing beside her parents, her hair decorated with stone beads she had carved herself, her hands bruised and callused from the work – a fact she was proud of, because it showed that she was an adult capable of work. She was listening to Borin's words, but her eyes kept darting back to the young dwarf with his magnificent beard and shining armour, until he returned her gaze. They had known each other since childhood, but the year they had spent apart had changed both of them, and now they looked at each other as if they had never met before.
Soon their engagement was announced. Their wedding was going to be the first large celebration the dwarves of Erebor held since they had left home.
The four dwarves entered the shop and the Stitchworts greeted them warmly. Upon hearing that Birna was getting married, they congratulated her and took a piece of paper and a quill to write down the orders. Birna's parents ordered a large banner of blue and silver cloth, giving precise instructions on the dimensions. Birna's father asked for the quill and paper and drew a little sketch of the emblem of Durin – a hammer and anvil under a crown with seven stars – which was to be embroidered on the banner. Then Birna described the dresses she wanted: a dark red one for herself, and for Dís a dress and cloak the colour of the night sky, both very long and with silver embroidery on the hems. When Mrs Stitchwort took the girls to the other room to take their measurements, she asked if Dís was going to be a maid of honour.
"I'm the Crown-Bearer," Dís said. "I don't know what a maid of honour does, but the Crown-Bearer has to carry two coronets decorated with stars, and then place them on the bride's and groom's head."
"Sounds like a very important task," Mrs Stitchwort said.
"Oh, it's very important," Birna said. "A great responsibility, too. If she happens to drop one of the coronets, our marriage will end in misery."
"I didn't know that!" Dís said, feeling a small rush of panic.
Birna started to laugh. "Of course you didn't, I just made that up!" she said and, noticing the angry glare Dís gave her, hugged her. "Come on, don't be angry! Whatever you do, it won't be wrong. As far as I'm concerned, you can toss the coronets up into the air and have them land onto your grandfather's nose!" Both of them giggled nervously, imagining the look on Thror's face was Dís really to do that. Although she didn't know who Thror was and therefore didn't understand the joke, Mrs Stitchwort couldn't help smiling, so contagious was their laughter.
"Oh, and the skirts will need to be very full, to swirl nicely while we are dancing," Birna said.
"They will swirl magnificently, I promise!" Mrs Stitchwort said.
A few years before that a new family of dwarves had joined their settlement: Bifur and his cousin Bombur, along with each one's parents and Bombur's little brother. They were Longbeards too, but very Dístantly related to the dwarves of Erebor; the news of Smaug had reached them, but they thought all their kinsmen in Erebor were killed. They were delighted to find that some of them still lived, and they gladly joined their colony.
Bifur was a very skilled toymaker and Bombur an excellent cook; during the warm months of the year, Bifur would take his toys and some of Bombur's less perishable sweets and, usually accompanied by his father or uncle and his little cousin Bofur, travel through the towns of Men and sell the toys and sweets. The people got used to the dwarves visiting them once a year, and their children would usually want their birthday presents postponed "until the dwarves came", even if it meant having to wait half a year or more. No toys Men made were even half as good as Bifur's, and he would also tell stories about his dolls, wooden horses, swords and dragons that not only the children, but also the parents liked to listen to. Even little Bofur, who had heard each and every one of those stories a hundred times, would sit behind him in the cart and listen, wide-eyed. Bifur was also very good-natured, and didn't mind it if a child occasionally pulled his beard.
When all the toys and sweets were sold, Bofur and his companions would return to spend the winter with their family. Birna and Gloin's parents asked them to return earlier this year: the wedding would be in early autumn, and they wanted everyone to be there. They also asked Bombur to prepare a feast, and he eagerly accepted the job. Meat, grain, fruit, wine, cream and honey were ordered from merchants in Linsby, and as autumn came nearer, walnuts, chestnuts and hazelnuts were gathered and dried. Bombur would gladly describe the cakes he was going to make in great detail to anyone who asked. It was going to be a wonderful feast.
A few weeks before the wedding, Dís was working in her mother's pottery. Her brother Frerin was with her, unloading a kiln, and Dís was grinding minerals to a powder with a mortar and pestle. The powder was to be used to make a shiny, redDish-black glaze called rukhsdumû, or Orcs' blood. Spread over thin, finely shaped plates and cups, rukhsdumû would make them look as if they were made of metal.
Dís didn't even notice when she started beating the minerals in a fast, steady rhythm, or when her left foot stated tapping the ground in the same rhythm. She only became aware of it when she noticed Frerin grinning at her.
"What is it?" she asked, annoyed.
"You were dancing," Frerin said. "I never saw you dancing before!"
"Was I?" Dís asked with surprise and blushed a little, but then she felt annoyed again. "Well, of course you never saw me dancing, because no one ever taught me how to do that! I might have to dance at the wedding, and then I'll make a fool of myself!"
"That's true, nobody taught you how to dance," Frerin said. "To be fair, none of our people danced at all during the past years. When you've spent the whole day walking across unknown lands you don't feel like dancing around the campfire in the evening.
Dís looked at her brother, wondering whether he was reproaching her but, to her relief, there was laughter in his eyes. "We'll have to make up for that," he said.
As the family was having lunch that day, Frerin told the family about Dís's complaint, ignoring her protests. She was afraid the family, especially Thror, would find her words frivolous and insensitive. But her grandfather smiled at her and said:
"I agree, my little one. You should learn how to dance before the wedding. The role of Crown-Bearer is an important one and you are right to take it seriously."
He spoke so solemnly that Dís felt a little scared.
"If my dancing is really bad, will the whole ceremony be spoiled?" she asked.
Her other brother, Thorin, looked up from his bowl of stew and said somewhat irritably:
"You won't do it wrong, Dís." Then his voice softened. "You know how to play the harp, chop and carve wood, make pottery, grind stones, search for food in the wild. All these things are much more difficult than dancing, and you are excellent at them."
Although grateful for the encouragement, Dís was still not completely convinced.
"Yes, but I don't do any of these things while everyone is watching me, and if I do something wrong I can simply start again!"
Thorin looked at the rest of the family, silently asking for help.
Their grandfather spoke again:
"You threw a knife at a warg from fifteen steps away and hit it between the eyes when you were a mere child of thirty-two. Had you made a mistake then, you wouldn't have had the chance to try again. But you succeeded, didn't' you?"
To this Dís could find no objection. Her grandmother added, her eyes twinkling:
"Exactly! And just think, had you not killed that warg you would have been mauled. Even if you do make a wrong step while dancing at the wedding, no one is going to maul you!"
Everyone smiled at her words except for Dís. She finished her stew in sulking silence. Of course she knew she wasn't likely to be mauled for dancing badly, but they might laugh at her, which seemed even worse.
Her mother and brothers had obviously noticed her sulking, because when they finished their stew they exchanged brief looks and stood up. Thorin and Frerin stood next to each other, and their mother stood facing Thorin. They all looked at Dís.
"Well?" said Thorin. "You said you wanted to learn how to dance!"
Dís stood up and took place beside her mother, facing Frerin. She knew what they were about to show her was the courtly dance performed at important ceremonies, with men and women standing in two opposite rows. She could remember watching it at court events in Erebor. Now she was going to take part in it! Her heart beat a little faster in expectation. The fact that they were standing between the kitchen table and the Dish cupboard, and not underneath towering stone columns, didn't seem to spoil the experience at all.
"Watch me and do as I do," her mother said, and Dís nodded.
Thorin and Frerin exchanged an uncertain look. They were meant to start the dance, but it seemed that something was troubling them.
"It feels very strange to dance without music," Thorin said.
Dís noticed that, at the table, her grandmother was looking pointedly at her father Thrain, who was pretending to be deeply concentrated on his empty bowl. It didn't take long for him to give up, though.
"I knew I would end up having to participate in this," he said with a good-natured grumpiness. He left the kitchen for a while and returned with a harp. This time he sat with his back to the table so that he could hold the harp in front of him. His mother took a fire-iron and stood next to a heavy iron cooking pot. When Thrain gave her a nod, she started beating on the pot as if it were a drum in the slow, steady rhythm of the ceremonial dance, which invoked the beating of Mahal's hammer. The harp joined in. Thorin and Frerin took a bow and Dís, glancing quickly at her mother, responded just in time with a bow of her head. Then her brothers took a step back, and Dís, following her mother's lead, turned to the right. Thorin and Frerin stepped forward again. Dís followed every step, bow and turn her mother made, finding eventually that she barely had to look at her – with every step it was somehow becoming easier to guess what the next one would be.
When the dance was over she looked over to the table, a little out of breath. Her father and grandparents looked very pleased.
"That was very good, Dís," her grandmother said. Thror said nothing, but his eyes were smiling.
Her mother promised her that they would rehearse the ceremonial dance as many times as she wished, until she felt completely confident. Dís thanked her, but something was still troubling her. The ceremonial dance what not the only kind of dancing she remembered from the great feasts of long ago. At the end of the evening, after all the ceremonies were over, there would always be additional music, merrier and much more carefree. She could remember dwarves dancing along, sometimes in couples and sometimes alone, skipping and whirling around in a seemingly chaotic way. No one had taught her how to do that yet!
When she voiced her concern, her mother smiled and shook her head.
"There is nothing we could teach you. At that point in the feast you can dance however you like."
That didn't sound very helpful. "But what if I look ridiculous?"
Everyone assured her that she wouldn't look ridiculous, but she only felt completely reassured when they reminded her that, after the ceremonial dance is over, nobody would expect her to dance if she didn't want to.
As summer turned into autumn, ripe, red apples were added to Bombur's pantry, and the day of Birna's wedding became closer. A week before the wedding, Birna's mother dropped by at the Stitchworts' shop and came back with the news that the dresses were finished.
Birna and Dís went to Lynsby immediately. Mrs Stitchwort helped them put on the dresses and gave them an appraising look. Apparently satisfied, she held up a large mirror in front of the girls. Dís almost audibly gasped. Her friend had always been beautiful, so that wasn't much of a surprise, but her own beauty caught her completely unprepared. Something about the dark blue of the dress and the silver embroidery around the edges made her skin glow and the blue of her eyes seem deeper. She immediately held her back straighter and her head higher – the dress seemed to demand that.
"They're wonderful, Mrs Stitchwort!" Birna said.
"If you would turn around, Miss Birna?" Mrs Stitchwort said. "Let us see if it swirls the way you wished."
Birna lifted a foot into the air and twisted around on the other. The skirt spread out into a circle, almost knocking the bales of cloth down from the shelves in the shop.
"It would be wiser to try that out in the street," Birna said, grabbed Dís by the hand and dragged her out of the shop. She twirled again, and this time Dís did the same. The two dresses spread around them as if a red and a blue flower had suddenly opened up on the cobbled street, and the girls only stopped twisting around when they were so dizzy they fell into each other's arms, laughing. Several passers-by stopped to watch curiously. Mr and Mrs Stitchwort were standing in their doorway, smiling.
"They swirl magnificently, just as you promised, Mrs Stitchwort!" Birna said, a little out of breath.
Later, after they had changed back into their old clothes, and while Mr Stitchwort was carefully wrapping the new dresses in a piece of thin cloth, Birna asked:
"Would you do me the honour of coming to my wedding, Mr and Mrs Stitchwort?"
The couple looked at her with surprise, but she added:
"You will not be the only guests who are not dwarves. My parents and my betrothed have already asked some people from the village."
"It would be an honour, Miss Birna!" Mr Stitchwort said.
The day before the wedding Dís woke up early, tried on her dress and practiced walking in it up and down the kitchen, holding her head high and holding up the skirt just enough for her feet not to get tangled in it. Then she closed her eyes and imagined she was standing in a row of ladies, with the men standing opposite, and she repeated the steps her brothers and mother had taught her. She thought she did it rather well, although she did bump into the kitchen table when she took a little bow at the end. When she opened her eyes she saw Frerin standing in the doorway, grinning. She took an apple from the table and made a gesture as if she was going to hurl it at him, but she didn't – she could remember too well how valuable an apple would have been to them only a few years ago to waste one now on an annoying brother. She returned to her little room, carefully hanged the dress and smoothed out all the creases. She would not touch it again until the wedding.
After changing into her stained and worn work clothes, she accompanied her mother into the pottery, where they counted and sorted the Dishes, cups and bowls made for tomorrow's feast. They looked impressive, the reddish-black rukhsdumû reflecting light and emphasising the engraved ornaments and the initials G and B written in cirth runes. (No part of Gloin and Birna's true names would, of course, be put in writing anywhere.)
When the tableware – which was their wedding gift for Gloin and Birna – was arranged into neat piles, they covered it with cloth to protect it from dust. Work in the pottery would go on as usual, but Dís was excused from any duties. She was grateful for that, because she was so excited she felt that any pottery she handled might be in danger.
She returned to the house only moments before Birna arrived. Although visibly excited, Birna remembered to greet her friend's parents with a light bow and the proper words.
"Greetings, Thrain, son of Thror, and Jora, daughter of Snari! May I borrow your daughter for a while?"
She was allowed to do that, of course. Together they made way to the pavilion Gloin's family had built for the wedding.
The bridegroom's family were carpenters, and they gladly took upon themselves the task of building a wooden pavilion in the centre of the dwarven village. The High Table, where the bride and bridegroom, the Crown-Bearer, the Shield-Bearer and the King and Queen would sit, was placed on a raised platform at one end, with the banner made by the Stitchworts, embroidered with the emblem of Durin, raised above it. The tables for the royal family and for bride's and bridegroom's family were closest to the platform, and the tables for the other guests were arranged in rows. One of them was higher than the others and fitted with larger chairs, to accommodate the village folk invited to the wedding. In the middle of the platform was an open space with a large, beautifully carved wooden chair – a replacement throne for the King to sit on while performing the marriage ceremony.
Birna said they were going there to "see if everything was all right", but she was so feverish with excitement Dís doubted that, had something not been right, she would be able to notice.
They found Oin, Gloin's older brother who was to be the Shield-Bearer, walking among the tables and making sure they were all perfectly horizontal and that all the chairs were properly placed. Oin was normally very fond of jokes and singing, but today his face was grave and he was holding himself very straight, like a soldier on an important mission. When he came forward to greet Birna and Dís, it almost seemed as if he was going to salute them.
Birna inquired him about Gloin – they were not to see each other during the last three days before the wedding.
"Don't worry, Birna, he's fine. He is probably at home, brushing his beard and polishing his armour for the hundredth time, " Oin said with a twinkle in his eye.
When Birna went to inspect the King's chair more closely, Dís asked Oin if he was nervous about his role tomorrow.
"Of course not, why should I be nervous?" Oin said in such an unnaturally solemn voice it was obvious that he was not telling the truth. Dís decided to be completely honest.
"I must admit I am a little nervous."
Oin relaxed a little. "Well, maybe I am too. Just a little bit. But everything will be all right, you'll see."
Their next stop was Bombur's house. The smell of roast, warmed-up honey and freshly baked apples greeted them on the street.
Dís had never been to Bombur's house before. The pride of any dwarf's home was his workshop – in Bombur's case, his kitchen. It was spacious and well lit, with wooden and iron tools hanging from wooden beams in the ceiling. Bombur was standing by a large oak table covered with rolled pastry, armed with a knife and various measuring instruments. He was working with great care, cutting out oddly shaped pieces of pastry.
When he heard the girls enter he lifted his head up from his work and blushed. Since his cheeks were already flushed from the heat in the kitchen and his hair and beard were red like fire, this made him an impossible shade of red. He quickly stood between his visitors and the table and looked at them like a guard guarding a treasure. Although visibly pleased that they had paid him a visit, he said:
"Birna, daughter of Laki! Princess Dís! I'm sorry, but i don't want you to see what I'm doing. It is a surprise."
"I didn't mean to spy on you, Bombur!" Birna said. "I just wanted to see if everything was all right for tomorrow."
Bombur beamed and opened various ovens and, cupboards to show her thee roasts, eat pies, cakes and loaves of bread he had already made. He refused to answer any questions about the cake he was working on at the moment, though. All he said was that it would be the best-looking cake he ever made.
The wedding day finally arrived. The rukhsdumû tableware was to be delivered to the wooden pavillion before noon; once again, Dís was excused from taking part in this. Thrain's cousin Fundin and his sons were there to help her parents and brothers carry the gifts. They presented an amusing sight walking down the street in a line and balancing the piles of dishes on their arms or heads, her mother in a long embroidered dress and the men in chainmail shirts, with daggers at their belts.
The only duty Dís had before the ceremony was to fetch the wedding coronets from Birna's family's jewellery shop. The coronets were made of quartz crystal – not diamonds, which would have been used in better times – but still impressive and exquisitely made. Birna's mother wrapped them in blue cloth, handed them to Dís and smiled.
"You look even more excited than my daughter, Dís, daughter of Thrain,"
"Nervous, rather than excited."
But as she said it, Dís realised that it wasn't strictly true anymore and that she was actually impatient for the feast to start.
She returned home clutching the wrapped coronets to her chest, broke off a small piece of the loaf on the kitchen table and hurried to her room to get dressed.
At midday, all the dwarves in the colony were gathered in the pavilion. The invited village folk were also there – Dís noticed the Stitchworts and a few other families the bride's and bridegroom's family were friendly with. There were children among them, looking around with wide, curious eyes. The adults were probably just as curious about their surroundings, but they showed more restraint.
Thror took his place on the large wooden seat in the centre of the platform. His wife, daughter, sister and nieces lined up to his left, and to his right stood Thrain, his sons and Fundin with his sons. They all stood straight and proud, their faces impassive like statues. Had she not been the Crown-Bearer Dís would have been standing there next to her mother. But in this role her place was behind the bride and bridegroom, next to Oin, son of Groin. She was holding the two coronets in her hands. Oin's task was a little bit more difficult: he was carrying a large shield large enough to cover at least three quarters of a dwarf's body. Had it been made of silver and gold, as tradition demanded, it would have been much easier to carry, but it was made of leather on iron framing instead, decorated with small gold and silver plates. Thorin had made the iron frame, and Birna's parents made the decorations. A large and heavy shield like that would have been useless in battle, but it was very well made for the wedding: it was large enough for its role as a symbol of protection, and it carried at least some gold and silver to bear witness to the beauty of the works of Mahal.
Birna, more beautiful than ever in her red dress, briefly turned around and squeezed Dís's hand. Dís wasn't quite sure whether her friend was calming her or if she needed calming herself. The bridegroom and his brother, although they were standing perfectly still and straight in their shining armour, betrayed some nervous excitement as well.
Dís glanced at the village folk and noticed the looks of amazement directed at Thror. They had been used to the other dwarves by now, but the King had never been to the village. Dís could imagine how strange her grandfather probably seemed to them with his enormous white beard decorated with metal place and his fur-lined cloak.
When the King gave them a little nod, Gloin and Birna knelt in front of him and extended their right hands. Thror took their hands, joined them together and said:
"Gloin, son of Groin and Birna, daughter of Laki, in front of all the witnesses gathered here I pronounce you husband and wife. May your lives be long and fruitful."
Then he leaned down so that his head was close to theirs, and whispered the same words in Khuzdul. As usual for a wedding ceremony at which non-dwarves were present, it was to be held in two languages, only the words in Common Speech audible to everyone.
Kneeling with their hands joined, Birna and Gloin smiled at one another. It was Dís's turn now. When her grandfather nodded at her, she stepped forward and spoke in a firm, clear voice:
"May Durin's crown shine upon you, Gloin, son of Groin."
Leaning closer to the bridegroom, she whispered in his ear:
"Bavon Adadel nalekh ai zu, Bashûdûn," and carefully placed the coronet on his head.
She moved a step to the right to stand behind Birna and spoke again:
"May Durin's crown shine upon you, Birna, daughter of Laki."
When she leaned closer to her friend, she made the mistake of meeting her eye. Birna's face twitched slightly, her eyes darted towards the King just for the tiniest moment, and then she quickly bit her lip. Dís remembered what Birna had said in the tailors' shop, about tossing the coronets into the air and onto Thror's nose, and she had to bite her lip too. She took a long breath to calm herself, and then whispered:
"Bavon Adadel nalekh ai zu, Gehyinh."
The coronet was properly placed – on Birna's head and not on Thror's nose – and her task was over. She stepped back to make place for Oin, who held the shield over the couple's heads and wished upon them the protection of Mahal for the rest of their lives.
That was the final part of the marriage ritual, and the King rose to take his place at the High Table. Gloin, Birna, Oin and Dís followed and took their seats.
Food and wine had already been brought to the table, and now it was time to sample all the wonderful dishes they had seen in Bombur's kitchen the day before. Dís tried a little bit of every dish, and refilled her cup often. She had tried wine before, but only very small amounts because it was very valuable. Tonight, however, it seemed to be coming from an inexhaustible source and she gladly took advantage of it.
Birna spent most of the meal exchanging whispers with her husband. When she managed to catch her attention Dís said, pretending to be angry: "Why did you have to make me laugh? Had I not said the proper words you wouldn't be married now!" But Birna just laughed again, and so did Gloin and Oin – Birna had apparently explained the joke in the meantime.
After a while Birna and Gloin got up to talk to the guests, and Dís's mother walked up to her and said:
„I'm going to say hello to the Stitchworts. Would you like to come with me?"
Dís stood up and followed her mother to the table where the people from Lynsby were sitting. The Stitchworts complimented her on how lovely she looked in the blue dress, visibly proud of their work. Mrs Stitchwort eyes opened very wide when she noticed that Dís's mother was wearing a coronet.
"Are you a member of the King's family, mistress Jora?"
"Yes, I am. The king is my husband's father," she said.
"But I thought you were a potter!" Mrs Stitchwort said.
"I am! A kingdom can be lost, as my people have, to our misfortune, learned six years ago. But knowing how to create things is a treasure that can never be lost."
They left the Stitchworts to ponder the fact that some of their clients were royalty and returned to their tables. The remains of the meal had in the meantime been cleared off, and all tables were covered with various kinds of cake and large bowls of fruit. The most beautiful cake was the one in the middle of the High Table: it was shaped like an eagle in flight, every feather carefully carved in the thick pastry. When Birna cut it open, they found it was filled with walnuts and dried fruit soaked in brandy. It tasted just as wonderful as it looked.
Birna went over to the table where Bombur was sitting to thank him, and he blushed with pleasure.
When the cakes were taken away, many of the dwarves stood up from the tables to fetch their musical instruments. Dís knew it was time for the ceremonial dance, and she felt ready for it. Four dwarves lifted up the large wooden chair and carried it away to clear up the centre of the pavilion for dancing. Nearly everyone who was present, except for the King and Queen and the guests from the village, was going to take part either in playing the music or in dancing. Dís stood next to Birna, in the middle of the ladies' line. Oin stood facing her.
The drummers started beating, the other instruments joined in, and all the men took a bow. The ladies bowed back. The men took a step back. The women turned to the right. Nobody took a wrong step, or if they did, nobody noticed. Dís found the dancing very easy and surprisingly comforting: the music and the dance steps were ancient and unchangeable, and at least for a few moments they appeared to turn the wooden beams of the wedding pavilion into the stone pillars of their lost home.
When the dance ended with a deep bow from both sides, the musicians started to play a livelier tune. Gloin held Birna around the waist, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and they started to dance. The other dancers moved away to give them space – Birna's beautiful red dress was threatening to sweep everybody away.
Dís glanced at Oin, who was standing near her and watching the dancing couple.
"Can you dance?" she asked him.
"No."
"Neither can I. Shall we?"
Oin laughed. They placed their arms around each other rather awkwardly, but when they started moving to the music it turned out to be unbelievably easy. They skipped to the left and to the right and twirled around, and when the music stopped Oin said:
"Actually, you were supposed to follow my lead and not the other way around… But never mind!"
They both laughed. Dís and Birna danced the next dance by themselves, competing to see whose dress will swirl in a larger circle. Then they both danced with Bombur, because he was so adorable and made such wonderful cakes. They drank more wine, and the rest of the celebration became a little blurry. When she went to bed that evening, Dís felt dizzy and her feet hurt, but she could not remember ever being that happy and carefree, or even knowing that kind of happiness existed in the world.