So many elves had come! Tauriel held her head up proudly, her eyes swimming with tears. They bowed to her as she passed them, and even Thraiduil gave her a brief nod of his head although his expression was shielded as ever. For Thranduil, that could be considered a kingly blessing, Tauriel thought with a smile. Legolas had not come, but reason told her as he was far gone from Mirkwood, her news had not reached him in time.
She swallowed and looked ahead at the dwarf she was walking towards, the dwarf she had pledged herself and would now be joined to. Kili stood at the head of the hall, looking so very handsome, proud and happy.
His uncle stood beside him, his face unreadable. But he had given his blessing. He had given it, and now she and Kili would pledge themselves to each other before an entire dwarven kingdom. Men and women from Dale were also here, Bard and his family, those that had taken her in, given her a home. They were a new family to her, of sorts.
The dwarf woman beside her squeezed her hand and Tauriel glanced down and echoed her smile.
Dis held her future daughter-in-law's hand as they walked together the length of the hall. The news of her son's unusual attachment had not been easy to receive. But he was her boy and he loved this elf. He owed her his life. And Dis would not withhold any happiness from him. He had received Thorin's blessing, only Mahal knew how! So she bit her tongue and met Tauriel and spoke to her and found that she liked her.
At least Kili was alive and happy. What would she give to breathe life back into her poor boy that lay upstairs in his chamber, clinging between life and death, her poor Fili. Dis' eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away, not wanting to mar this day for her youngest.
As the two women reached the dais, Dis laid Tauriel's hand in Kili's with a Khuzdul blessing. Their height difference jarred her, but they did not seem to mind or notice, so she smiled and shook the thought away.
The King under the Mountain held up his hands and began the ceremony.
...
"I can't believe this is happening," Tauriel whispered in Kili's ear.
Their wedding feast was underway, and after a few rounds of dancing, he had pulled her away and into an alcove away from prying eyes. They had been stared and gawked at the whole day, and although most eyes were friendly or merely curious, there had been some that were not.
"You are my husband," she whispered, letting the words roll on her tongue.
"And you, my wife," he echoed. "Nothing ever felt more right."
She loved his conviction, loved the way it reassured her, made her knees weak. She remembered him months ago, as they were to be parted perhaps forever. He had entreated her to come with him. "I am not afraid," he'd told her, and the words had burned themselves in her heart. His fearlessness made her bold, gave her courage. She loved him and now the whole world could know. They were husband and wife.
She touched her lips to his and felt the fire spread through her veins. It was like this with him always. Always, his lips made her blood sing.
"We could slip away," he whispered, his hand grasping the back of her head, holding her closer.
"'tis too early."
"We've waited long enough."
They ran, laughing, holding hands, to the top floors where their new chambers were. And when he let her in, she gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.
Starlight filled their rooms. High up on the side of the mountain, half of their sloping ceiling wrought in glass, letting in all of it, all the starlight she'd ever longed for beneath the dark Mirkwood canopy.
"I can't believe it," she whispered. "It's beautiful."
"It's our home." He smiled at her.
She walked ahead to the center of the room, her body trembling. She loosened the strings of her dress and let it pool around her feet. She watched his eyes drink her in, watched as he stalked towards her.
"Mahal help me," he whispered before their lips touched and fire burst between them.
...
"I can't find them anywhere," Balin admitted. Thorin waited for a sign of the newlyweds so he could propose a toast, but they were nowhere to be found. A grin settled over Balin's wrinkled face and he chuckled into his white beard.
"What did you expect?"
Thorin found it hard to hold on to his annoyance. He'd been blind to their pain long enough, but was not blind now to their happiness. If theirs had been a dwarf marriage, there would be jokes about their haste to produce offspring. However, their being a union of a dwarf and an elf, any reference to their children was hushed.
He was relieved that they'd managed to avoid any squabbling between the Dwarves of Erebor and the Elves of Mirkwood that day. Thankfully the elves had departed soon after the ceremony, and so there hadn't been enough time for the pleasantries to run out. He'd managed almost a quarter of an hour in Thranduil's company without once losing his temper. They had both been cautious and mindful of the occasion that brought them together.
He wondered how soon his own wedding would follow, and almost grimaced at the thought. He looked towards the head of the table, where the newly arrived entourage from the Iron Hills sat with their mistress, the Lady Daila, cousin to Dain Ironfoot. Thorin clenched his jaw.
She was very lovely, yes, and bore no resemblance to Dain, thank Mahal! She blushed and lowered her eyes every time she was in his presence. She spoke softly and with much diplomacy. Very proper, he had to admit. She would make a suitable Queen, would do her duty and provide him with an heir, and would stay well out of his way. She was a perfect choice.
Thorin shook his head and tried to let his face muscles relax. He knew he was scowling. He raised his glass and the room quieted. As was customary, he toasted the couple with the King's speech and blessing.
The speech was received with laughter and whistles. And once it was done, the musicians picked up their instruments and the guests returned to the dance floor.
"Mistress Aire has offered a viewing on the progress of her work," Balin said casually as they both looked out over the crowd. Thorin's eyes inadvertently sought the object of their discussion amongst the guests.
She was dancing, with Dwalin of all dwarves. She was laughing, and, if Thorin was not mistaken, Dwalin was chuckling in response.
Thorin drew his mouth in a flat line and looked away. He missed Balin's inquiring look.
"What went wrong at your last meeting with Mistress Aire, if I may ask?" Balin asked innocently. "I thought you were getting along well."
"She elected herself Kili's champion and lectured me about my tyrannical rule. Bold words from the lips of one who barely knows me, and has no right to judge."
"Well, that's understandable."
Thorin turned on the older dwarf. "What do you mean by that?"
Balin looked pained. He clasped his hands behind his back and shuffled his feet.
"I shouldn't think ill of her if I were you. I believe her outburst had less to do with judgement of you than you imagine." He flattened his lips in a tight line and tilted his head to the side. "The Lady Aire, as she was known in years past was pledged to marry a dwarf from the Iron Hills, Seli was his name. Her father considered him beneath her. He forbid the match, despite their pleas. Seli left home for Ered Luin."
"Wait," Thorin interrupted him, remembering, "I know of whom you speak." He remembered a young dwarf who'd come from the Iron Hills, and died at the battle for Moria. "He played the lute."
Balin nodded. "A silent, brooding young dwarf. Well, he had his reasons."
"The Lady Aire?"
"Aire, daughter of Lord Alog. They were doing well back in the day. Ring a bell?"
"That stubborn ...," Thorin said a few words in Khuzdul, remembering the old bitter dwarf that had denied him any assistance when he had come asking for help retaking Erebor. "What happened to him?"
"Killed in an orc raid, along with most of his family. With the one exception. Mistress Aire. She turned down Dain's offer of protection. I suppose she didn't want to be the poor distant relation in another household, took up her trade instead and has done very well for herself. Does that help make things clearer?"
"It certainly does," Thorin said absentmindedly.
"Shall I let Mistress Aire know you will be inspecting her work presently?" Balin asked pointedly.
Thorin's brow furrowed. He looked towards the high table where Daila, cousin to Dain Ironfoot, along with her entourage sat.
"No, Balin," Thorin replied, his voice flat. "We will continue as decided. You will inspect the progress on the banners."
Balin followed his gaze and harrumphed.
"You disapprove?" Thorin exclaimed. "You're the one who put this into motion." He gave a curt nod of his head towards the high table to indicate his meaning. He felt an unreasonable anger building in his chest. "I'm the one who is now bound to finish it."
He turned on his heel and left the banquet hall.