Another chapter greater than 5,000 for Cheyanne. Poor Bilbo.

The days that followed the return of the Dwarves of Erebor included a lot of running around and greeting of said Dwarves for Cheyanne and Thorin. Balin had said it was good for them to hold a meet and greet of sorts. Cheyanne didn't really understand where he had come up with such a name, but it was a good way to describe what they were doing.

Cheyanne and Thorin would stand in the throne hall for several hours a day, just waiting for Dwarves to come and say hello. Thorin already knew many of those that came to see them, and Cheyanne decided that there was no way she was going to be able to remember them all.

She did, however, put away a few of the interactions to remember for later, because they were the more interesting ones.

One that she found to be her favorite was when a young (by Dwarven standards) couple came to them. The Dwarrowdam was holding a tiny bundle in her arms, and when she'd pulled back the blanket, Cheyanne and Thorin had been greeted by a baby that blinked up at them with dark eyes.

"Oh!" Cheyanne gasped, grinning. "He's beautiful!"

The Dwarrowdam holding the babe beamed at her. "Thank you for saying so, my lady," she said. "His birth was a difficult one, as we were traveling and it was winter."

"I'm glad to see that you are both healthy, then," Cheyanne responded, stepped away. The Dwarrowdam turned to Thorin.

"We would ask you to bless him, King Thorin," her companion said. The young Dwarf blinked when Thorin glanced at him. "W-we would ask that you give your opinion on the name we chose for him."

"Which was?" Thorin queried.

"Frerin," the Dwarf answered.

Cheyanne glanced at Thorin, and saw a strange light had crept into his eyes. Frerin was the name of the brother he had lost long ago, in the Battle of Anzanulbizar. No doubt, he was remembering the loss now, and doing his best to get past the dark memory of having to burn all of the bodies of the dead, his brother included.

"It's a wonderful name," Cheyanne said to the couple, who were watching Thorin as well. "It represents much."

"We thought so as well," the Dwarrowdam agreed.

Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. He smiled at the couple. "It's a very good choice," he said to them, and then he placed a gentle hand on Frerin's head and began to speak quietly to the babe in Khuzdul. Cheyanne, who had been learning much of the Dwarven language, was certain it was a blessing for a long life, and one of prosperity.

When Thorin stepped backwards, both of the Dwarves exchanged a happy look. The male bowed to Thorin and Cheyanne, and the Dwarrowdam dipped into a slight curtsy.

"Thank you much, my King, my lady," she said. Her companion placed a hand on her lower back, and the couple turned and walked down the grand staircase that led up to the throne.

Cheyanne smiled up at Thorin, who raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Are you all right?" she asked him instead of answering.

Thorin let out a breath. "Fine, bunnanunê," he replied. "The reminder of my brother should not affect me in such a way."

"And why not?" Cheyanne questioned, frowning. "You loved him, yes? You are expected to miss him."

"A king who shows emotion is a weak king," Thorin sighed under his breath.

Cheyanne gaped at him. "Who in Nessa's name told you that malarkey?"

Thorin looked down at her. "My grandfather."

Cheyanne blinked, and turned forward again. "I see."

The rest of the 'meet and greet', as Balin put it, went on similarly, either Dwarves coming to receive blessings, to thank Thorin directly, to thank Cheyanne directly, and other such things. It was an experience, and one that Balin told Cheyanne would be important for later on, when she and Thorin attended court.

"What in the world is 'court'?" she asked the older Dwarf as the two of them walked down one of the living quarter hallways. They passed Dwarven families that were cleaning out the apartments, and putting their belongings that they had brought with them from the Blue Mountains into place. The hall was filled with dust, but, thankfully, the neat little shaft-windows in the mountain walls were opened, and the dust flew out them to the outside.

Balin exhaled. "Court is one of the many things Thorin will be doing as King Under the Mountain. Dwarves, men, and even Elves will come to court, and state their business. It could be anything they want to discuss with the King, whether it's a suggestion for trade, or a request for funds to do something. As Queen, you will attend court as well, but not as often."

"Why?"

"Because, those that come to court will want to talk with Thorin, typically," Balin explained to her. "You will only be there to know what's happening in and around the kingdom, when Thorin deems it necessary that you join him."

They reached the end of the living quarter hallway and began to descend a set of stairs, down into the main hall of Erebor. Dwalin would be waiting for them there, to take over as Cheyanne's escort through the mountain, as Balin had some coronation business to attend to.

"Have you been working on your Khuzdul?" Balin asked her.

"Yes, Balin."

"Did you do that task I asked of you?"

Cheyanne rolled her eyes. "I came up with your sweet poetic translation, yes."

"Well, then, let's hear it."

Cheyanne stopped walking and turned to face the Dwarf. "I must thank you for only giving me the one line, because it was a pain to try and come up with the translation based on the information you've taught me, but what I came up with was 'Shukûl labam, ra niyumul, zudnu danakh udlag undu ibrizbakn haft.'"

"Almost perfect," Balin said, and Cheyanne sighed in frustration. "The correct plural for shores is 'shakâl'. But the rest was great."

"What does that line refer to, Balin?" Cheyanne asked.

Balin smiled at her. "What lies beyond."

"Oh."

The two continued on down the stairs, and immediately, Dwalin bustled over to them.

"Ready?" he asked Cheyanne.

"I suppose," she answered, looking at Balin. "You need me to write invitations, yes?"

Balin nodded. "I've left a list in your apartment with the names of those you can write them too. The rest are up to me."

"How many can there be?" Cheyanne asked, frowning.

Balin merely winked, and then turned, heading for a different set of stairs. Cheyanne sighed to herself and looked up at Dwalin.

"Off to my apartment we go, I suppose."

Dwalin nodded, and together they walked towards the stairs that would take them to the throne hall, and the only staircase that reached the hall where Cheyanne's apartment was. As they walked, Dwarves that were traversing the main hall paused to bow to Cheyanne, who gave them all nods in return.

Dwalin was chuckling to himself by the time they reached the stairs, and she glared at him. "What is so funny?"

"You," Dwalin said simply, walking up the stairs ahead of her. Cheyanne had to jog a bit to keep up.

"I'm just trying to act regal," she muttered.

"Yes, I can tell," Dwalin answered. "I think you're doing fine."

"So don't laugh at me," Cheyanne grumbled unhappily. They reached the stop of the stairs and headed down the walkway towards the throne. As they neared, Cheyanne saw that Fili and Thorin were standing before it, talking to one another in low voices.

She put out a hand to stop Dwalin from walking, and cocked her head in the direction of the other two Dwarves.

She caught the very end of a statement from Thorin, "... any longer."

"It is not my fault that you have no time to braid her hair instead," Fili retorted. "It means nothing, Uncle."

"Perhaps not to her, but to us?" Thorin demanded, and Cheyanne saw his eyes harden. "What does it mean to you, Fili?"

"Nothing, like I said!"

Dwalin raised an eyebrow at Cheyanne, who lifted her shoulders. They were clearly talking about her, but she had immediately decided it was an idiotic conversation. One that she wanted to end, immediately.

"Fili, and Thorin, two of my favorite Dwarves," she said, continuing on down the walkway towards them, with Dwalin behind her.

The two glanced in her direction, and then Thorin gave Fili one final hard look before he walked towards Cheyanne to meet her halfway. She was surprised when he closed an arm around her and pressed a kiss against her mouth. Since the return of the Dwarves, showings of affection such as that one had been avoided by the both of them.

Cheyanne gave Thorin a curious look when he pulled away from her.

"Care to explain why you were yelling at Fili about braids?" she queried pleasantly.

"No," Thorin answered shortly, "and I had best be getting to that meeting with Balin." He gave her a second kiss, and then nodded to Dwalin before walking past them towards the stairs. When Cheyanne turned away to look for Fili, the prince had already gone.

She rolled her eyes. "Dwarves," she mumbled, and Dwalin gave her a reproachful look. She responded with a sweet grin. "But not you, Dwalin."

"I would hope not," Dwalin muttered, glancing off into a different direction. "We should get to those invitations."

"I suppose we should," Cheyanne agreed, and followed Dwalin towards the staircase to the left of the throne. The walk up to her apartment was silent, and when they reached it, the young Dwarrowdam that Thorin had hired to be Cheyanne's lady's maid was waiting for them.

"H'lo, my lady," the Dwarrowdam greeted, pulling open the door for the both of them.

"Hi, Fala," Cheyanne responded. "Did Balin stop by earlier?"

"He did," Fala said, and she gestured towards the desk on the left wall of the parlor. "He left a list behind, with names on it, and a stack of stationery."

"It's for the invitations," Cheyanne explained to her maid. "Would you mind terribly if I asked you to fetch Dwalin and I something to eat from the kitchens?"

"Not at all, it's my job." Fala dipped into a curtsy, and then exited the apartment. Dwalin closed the door behind her as Cheyanne walked over to her desk. Indeed, there was a stack of stationery waiting for her, as well as a rolled up piece of parchment that she assumed was the list of names.

She picked it up, prepared to unroll it herself, but the parchment did the job for her, unraveling and rolling away from her off the desk and to Dwalin's feet. He bent down and picked up the end that had reached him while Cheyanne looked helplessly at the five-foot long list.

"Why me?" she asked him after a moment, and Dwalin chuckled. He walked over to the desk, rolling the parchment back up as he went. "I don't suppose you'll want to help write the invitations?" Cheyanne queried hopefully as he set the scroll back down.

"Not in the slightest, lass," Dwalin answered, "but I'll seal them for you."

Cheyanne huffed as she sat down in her chair. "Sure, take the easy job," she mumbled, reaching for the quill that was waiting for her next to a jar of ink.

The two of them set to work, Cheyanne drafting out the same invitation to the wedding on the stationery that she and Thorin (and Balin) had chosen, and Dwalin sealed each one with some melted ink and the royal stamp of the house of Durin.

After a time, when the biscuits and cookies that Fala had brought up from the kitchen had run out, the two of them were only a quarter of the way through the list, and Cheyanne's hand was cramping something awful.

"I need a break," she declared, putting the quill down in the inkwell before massaging the palm of her right hand with her left. "Valar, who knew there would be so many?"

"Invitations for all the Dwarves in Erebor, and those living in Dale, and even a few invitations for high class livers in the Iron Hills," Dwalin explained, finishing his last seal before setting the letter off to the side with the others.

"When I said I would do the invitations, I thought I was picking the easy task," Cheyanne admitted, and Dwalin chuckled just as the door of the apartment opened, and Thorin came in. Cheyanne glared at him as he walked over to where she sat. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"Do I have to knock at your door?" Thorin asked in response.

"I could have been doing something naughty," Cheyanne told him.

"Anything you do that's naughty is something I want to see," Thorin replied, smiling a bit.

Dwalin threw up his hands and rose from his chair. "All right, I'm leavin'. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon." He hurriedly walked out of the apartment, and Thorin chuckled when Cheyanne gave him a look.

"My plan worked."

Cheyanne laughed as well, and gestured to the invitations. "Help me seal these, then, since you got rid of my other assistant."

Thorin did as she asked, taking the seat Dwalin had vacated and accepting the invitation she gave him. Fala came out of the bedchamber, then, and saw the two sitting at the desk. She quickly swept into a curtsy at the sight of her future king, but Thorin did not notice. Cheyanne had already claimed his full attention by telling him about the Khuzdul translation task Balin had given her.

When she was finished telling him about it, Thorin was smiling. "I haven't heard of that poem before," he commented.

"Me either," Cheyanne said, frowning. "I think Balin made it up off the top of his head so I couldn't go looking for it in any of those books in the library." She glanced at him as she finished up a fourth invitation. "When are we going to look into cleaning that out?" she asked.

"As soon as this coronation and wedding business is settled, and we're officially King and Queen Under the Mountain," Thorin answered, pressing the seal stamp into the warm wax he had just poured onto an invitation. "We'll be able to really get restoration underway then."

"Ah."

Thorin set the invitation he had just finished off to the side, and then nodded to the one she was working on. "Who's that too?"

Cheyanne grimaced a bit at the question, and she slid it towards him. Thorin read the name of who the invitation was addressed to, and he frowned almost immediately. "No. I refuse to send him an invitation."

"You must," Cheyanne insisted. "He may have done something bad before, many things, to be fair, but he did help us win the Battle of the Five Armies." She gave Thorin a reproachful look. "What happened to 'Remembering the help given by those who are not Dwarves?', or whatever it was that you said."

Thorin slid the invitation back over to her, and Cheyanne went on writing. He watched her for a moment, and then exhaled.

"You only see the good in people."

Cheyanne immediately looked up from her task with a frown. "I do not!" she exclaimed.

"You do," Thorin insisted. "Even after that Elf kept us hostage in his damn prison, you're inviting him to the wedding."

"His name is on the list, and it's common courtesy between kings," Cheyanne said plainly.

"You don't know anything about common courtesies between kings." Thorin reached over and took the quill she was using out of her hands and held it away from her. "He doesn't need to come."

"Thorin, he helped us win the battle," Cheyanne repeated, crossing her arms. "This could be a new era of friendship between Dwarves and Elves."

Thorin snorted, but returned the quill after a moment. "There will never be friendship between Dwarves and Elves."

"Sure, you say that now, but when you and Thranduil both get piss-drunk at the wedding and start telling jokes, a beautiful friendship will blossom," Cheyanne promised, completing the invitation. She then held the quill out to him. "Would you like to sign it, or shall I?"

Thorin grumbled out a reply. He took the quill from her hand and signed his own name before he put it back in the inkwell. He then leaned over and kissed Cheyanne briefly before relaxing back in his chair.

"Good," Cheyanne said, rolling up the letter before handing it to him. "Seal it." Thorin was frowning, however, and she furrowed her brow as she looked at him. "What is it?"

"You did not sleep at all last night, did you?" Thorin asked her, setting Thranduil's invitation down on the desk.

Cheyanne turned her eyes away from him and studied her hands, suddenly extremely interested in the ring on the left. "Of course I did," she answered vacantly.

"Cheyanne."

She let out a breath. The day had been going so well, too. "It's hard to sleep when I can't close my eyes without immediately feeling like…" She trailed off and shook her head. "I keep having that dream."

Thorin knew the dream she meant. She'd had it more than once, though the one he remembered clearest was when they had been in Lake-town, and she had come to his bedroom in the Master's house, seeking comfort and finding him instead. It was one of the only times Thorin felt he'd given Cheyanne his affection on the journey, and, once again, he regretted not giving her more.

With a sigh, he rose from his own chair and walked around to the back of hers. He placed his hands on her shoulders, resting his lips against the top of her head.

"How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

"It's pretty awful," she admitted with a weak chuckle, turning to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, 'ibin," Thorin said. "I wish I could help."

She managed a smile. "I'm sure I will be fine once we are sleeping in the same space again."

Thorin had to return the grin. "I'm certain of it as well."

"Thorin?" Balin's voice could be heard from outside the door, and Thorin called for his entrance. The Dwarf shuffled into the room, his face paling at the minuscule height of the stack of sealed invitations on the desk before Cheyanne. He quickly shook off the disgusted look on his face and bowed to them. "The Lady Dis has requested Cheyanne's presence in her chambers for tea."

"Alone?" Cheyanne had paled, now. She looked up nervously at Thorin, who rubbed her shoulders reassuringly.

"If my sister has invited you to tea, you are blessed," he said with a gentle smile. "Rarely does she seek company."

Balin gave Thorin a reproachful look, to which Thorin frowned and shook his head in warning. He needed to convince Cheyanne to visit with Dis, and Balin was not helping.

Balin cleared his throat. "If you like, I will accompany you to her chambers," he said to Cheyanne.

Cheyanne continued to look at Thorin, and he placed another kiss on her head. "She will not harm you, bunnanunê," he said with a chuckle. "She probably just wants to discuss something about your duties when you become queen."

"Still…" Cheyanne mumbled, all the same rising from her chair and walking to where Balin waited by the open door. The two of them exited the chamber, leaving Thorin to laugh quietly to himself as he sat down and began to shuffle through the invitations, deciding which could be sent immediately, and which could be put off for a while. After all… it would be no harm to him if Thranduil's invitation arrived too late for the Elf king to get to the wedding.

In the halls of Erebor, Balin and Cheyanne walked silently beside one another, headed towards Dis's chambers. Balin seemed to sense Cheyanne's discomfort, and he reached a tentative hand towards her, placing it on her shoulder.

"I don't want to do this." His touch seemed to unlock her words, and Cheyanne froze, turning to face him. "I can't do it. I can't. Balin…"

Balin let out a breath. "Cheyanne, listen closely." She lifted her gaze from where it had drifted to the floor and met his. "Dis is one of the most charitable and fierce Dwarrowdams I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She will come to love you, even if you do not feel she will, simply because she loves Thorin, and wants him to be happy. Do you want to make Thorin happy?"

"More than anything," Cheyanne replied without hesitation.

"Then have tea with Dis. Be in her company, listen to her advice. She may very well be the one to teach you how to be a good queen, if you let her."

Cheyanne's quick breathing had slowed, slightly, and she looked less terrified than she had the moment before. She nodded once, twice.

"All right," she said, her voice breaking a bit. "I'll have tea with her."

"Good," Balin said, smiling. "Come on."

The two continued on towards Dis's chambers. When they reached it, Cheyanne let out a breath and straightened her skirt. "I can do this," she whispered to herself.

"You can," Balin agreed, raising a fist to knock on Dis's door. It opened a moment later, one of Dis's chamber maids pulling it back.

"Lady Cheyanne," the maid said, curtsying. "My lady has been expecting you."

Balin glanced at Cheyanne, and saw the grimace she was trying to make a grin. "Well, I'm here," she managed.

Balin gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then parted, heading away down the hall. Cheyanne longed to go after him, but she couldn't. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and went into Dis's chamber.

The lady was sitting with her back to the door, in a beautifully crafted oaken chair before a giant stone fireplace. She rose at Cheyanne's entrance, however, and turned to face her. Once again, Cheyanne was astounded by the Dwarrowdam's beauty. She lowered herself into a curtsy, her knees quaking beneath her skirt, as Dis approached her and took one hand in both of hers.

They were large, calloused, not unlike Thorin's. Cheyanne knew that Dis was well versed in all the same weapons as her brother was, and she managed not the flinch as she raised her eyes to meet the blue ones that looked back at her.

"I hope I do not frighten you as my sons seem to believe I do," Dis said gently, which stunned Cheyanne to no end. "I do not want you to fear me, sweet Halfling. You are to be my sister, and I aim for you to see me as one."

Cheyanne didn't know what to say. As she struggled for words, Dis backed away and gestured to the tea that was set out on the table between her chair and the one next to it. "Tea?"

Slowly, Cheyanne made her way over to the other chair and sank down into it. She watched as Dis picked up the teapot, much to the disgruntlement of her maid, who remained nearby. "My lady -"

"I can pour my own tea, thank you," Dis retorted, smiling at Cheyanne to take the edge off of her tone. "Do you like honey?"

"I can do it," Cheyanne said softly.

Dis watched curiously as Cheyanne first poured some honey onto a spoon and then swirled the spoon around in her silver cup. "Interesting way of doing that," the Dwarrowdam said as Cheyanne pulled the spoon out of the cup and set it down.

"We Hobbits have interesting ways of doing a lot of things," Cheyanne replied, receiving a smile.

"Like claiming the hearts of Dwarves?" Cheyanne looked down at her now-golden tea, and Dis sighed. "That was not meant as a taunt, Cheyanne. Please, do not think of it as one."

"I wasn't," Cheyanne answered, her voice low. "I just… I know a lot of the Dwarves would like it if Thorin was marrying a Dwarrowdam instead, and I feel sorry for disappointing them."

"Who have you disappointed?" Dis asked.

Cheyanne offered her a shrug. "I've heard whispers, from those who I haven't met in the throne hall. They don't think I can rule them, or produce an heir for Thorin. I don't blame them."

Dis was frowning, now. "That's preposterous!" she decided. "Not produce an heir… not rule them… we'll just have to prove all the naysayers wrong, won't we, dear?"

Cheyanne looked up from her tea in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm going to make you the best queen Erebor has ever seen!" Dis told her. "It will take a lot of work, but I feel you are up to the task." Dis turned in her chair to face Cheyanne fully, fixing her with an intense stare. "Are you?"

"Of course," Cheyanne answered instantly. "Anything for Thorin."

Dis's frown disappeared at once, and she threw back her head in hearty laughter. When she was finished with her outburst, she leaned forward and chuckled a few more times before wiping her eyes with her free hand.

"Mahal, you two really are lovesick for one another, aren't you?" Dis sighed. She turned to Cheyanne and gave her a teasing grin. "May I offer you my first advice?"

"Please," Cheyanne said, setting her cup on the table and leaning towards the Dwarrowdam.

"Do not let Thorin rule your life," Dis said.

Cheyanne was taken aback. "Isn't that… what a woman does?" she finally asked.

"No!" Cheyanne scooted her chair back, and Dis let out a breath. "I apologize. That was sudden. I meant to say that no, that is not how it works, especially when you will be his queen." Cheyanne tilted her head in confusion, and Dis set down her own teacup.

"I'm going to frank with you, sweet Halfling," the lady began. "Thorin does not want to marry someone who will submit to him. I'm assuming you didn't submit whatsoever during the journey, right?"

Cheyanne had to smile. "No, I suppose I didn't," she answered.

"Then don't when you're married!" Dis shook her head. "You are Thorin's One, Cheyanne, and you are his One for a reason. Do not let marriage ruin that for either of you."

"So… are you saying that I shouldn't let him… tell me what to do?"

"Exactly!" Dis exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the arm of her chair. "Thorin doesn't want a submissive chicken warming his bed. He wants someone who isn't afraid to tell him no, to take command! You must be able to do that, to have won him over."

"I thought a Dwarf's One was based purely on fate," Cheyanne said.

Dis rolled her eyes. "Oh, dear, you have so much to learn," the Dwarrowdam sighed. "Have no fear; I will teach you everything you need to know."

"Starting with?" Cheyanne was eager now; Dis saw as much by the way her eyes were flashing with something other than the firelight. The Dwarrowdam had to smile; Thorin had chosen well.

"Well… let's see…"

Fili stood with his ear pressed to his mother's chamber door, listening as Lady Dis and Cheyanne both burst out in laughter. He smiled to himself at the sound, pleased that they were getting along.

He felt a finger tap him on the shoulder, and he quickly spun around, finding himself face to face with his uncle.

"Thorin!"

"What are you doing?" the soon-to-be king demanded of him.

"I was just… I was just listening!" Fili said. "Cheyanne went in there looking terrified for her life, and I wanted to make sure things went okay!" Thorin didn't look convinced, and so Fili gestured to the door. "Have a listen, and tell me what you think."

Thorin did no such thing. Instead, he came closer to Fili and leaned down into his nephew's face. "Do not spy on your mother and Cheyanne," he growled. "Do you understand?"

"It was for Cheyanne's good," Fili attempted, struggling to sound as firm as Thorin did.

"Was it? Or was it for your own pleasure?" Thorin asked him, his voice rising.

"Thorin, please -"

"Thorin!" His uncle was pulled away from him by Cheyanne, who got between the two and pushed Thorin backwards. "What in the Valar are you doing?" she demanded, rising up on her toes to be in his face.

"He was listening to your conversation," Thorin answered, waving his hand at Fili.

"Who cares?" Cheyanne was fuming. "Is he a spy?"

Silently, Thorin shook his head, still glaring at Fili from over Cheyanne's head.

"No, I didn't think so," the Hobbit said. She lowered herself back down to her normal height and glared up at him. "Don't threaten him like that, do you understand?"

"But he -"

"He did nothing wrong!"

Fili spared a glance towards his mother, who was leaning in the doorway of her bedchamber, watching the exchange between Hobbit and Dwarf. Lady Dis had a small smirk of satisfaction on her face, and it grew into a grin when Cheyanne spat a curse at Thorin in Khuzdul. Fili's own eyes went wide at the colorful language. All that for him?

"Khuzd allâkhul," Cheyanne finished, and with that, turned away from her soon-to-be husband and approached Fili. "Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Fine," Fili said, managing a grin of his own. "Thanks for that."

"He was being rude," Cheyanne said simply, sending a glare over her shoulder at Thorin, who was still standing with his back to the wall, mouth agape. She turned back to Fili. "Of course, you really should not be listening outside a female's chamber, Fee."

"I know," Fili said, bowing his head. "I apologize for that. I was just making sure everything was going all right." He turned towards Dis. "I apologize to you, too, mother."

"Fine, fine," Dis said dismissively, waving her hand.

Fili smiled at that. "She always treats me this way," he commented to Cheyanne. "I'll take my leave now, however." He bowed to them all and turned heel, quickly walking out of sight.

When he was gone, Cheyanne turned fully to look at Thorin, who was staring at her. Sighing to herself, she glanced at Dis, who merely gave her a "Nice job" gesture and disappeared into her chambers again.

"Thorin -"

"What makes you think you can speak to me in such a manner?" the Dwarf asked sharply, cutting her off.

Cheyanne crossed her arms. "I thought you would be impressed with me," she said simply. "I've been working hard on my Khuzdul."

"Not the important bits, it seems," Thorin commented dryly.

Cheyanne glared at him. "I wasn't going to let you treat your nephew in that manner," she said sternly. "That was unfair of you."

"He shouldn't have been listening at the door."

"You're right, he shouldn't have," Cheyanne agreed, "but did you need to get so angry with him?"

Thorin's shoulders rose and fell, and he lowered his gaze, at last. "No," he admitted. "I suppose I didn't."

"And I didn't need to pull out my Khuzdul cursing," Cheyanne said, a grin beginning to spread. Thorin raised his eyes again, and she held out her arms. "I'm sorry."

"As am I," Thorin said quietly. He let out a sigh. "I really am."

Cheyanne stepped towards him, and Thorin wrapped her into an embrace, chuckling to himself as he thought over her cursing. "You called me "stupid Dwarf" at the end."

"A sign of affection," Cheyanne said simply.

"I'm sure," Thorin said with a chuckle. He pushed her outwards at arm's length and studied her. "What if I say this: Zu kiduzhu? Can you translate it?"

"You are golden," Cheyanne said at once. "Easy."

Thorin smiled. "All right. How about… Zâyungi zu yothur nidif gulûb ublûr aglâbizd?"

Cheyanne's grin fell. "I haven't gotten that good," she said.

Thorin tapped her on the nose. "Do you know the Seven Blessings?"

"Yes. Do you need me to say them for you?" Thorin shook his head. "Didn't think so. That would be wrong, doing so before the wedding." She beamed up at him. "Are you going to tell me what you said?"

Thorin merely pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You'll find out soon enough on your own."

"That's not fair," Cheyanne said with a pout.

"No, what wasn't fair was you cursing at me the way you did," Thorin retorted. Cheyanne scowled, and he kissed it away, drawing giggles out of her instead. When he pulled away, she was smiling again.

"Men lananubukhs menu," she said.

"Amralizi ya," Thorin returned.

"Can I assume -"

"It means "I love you, too", bunnanunê."

"Right," Cheyanne decided quickly. "I knew that."

"I'm sure you did," Thorin said with a subtle roll of his eyes.