Winter solstice had always been a favorite time of year for me – warm mead, holly, and sleigh rides. This year brought all the happiness it had in previous years, but also more bitterness. Thorin began to resume his duties, and I was left alone for many hours of the day. Ora was often with me, but her company was limited to stitching and knitting.

It was the day before the winter solstice feast that Thorin brought with him a mood so sour I could nearly see a storm cloud hovering over his head.

"You would think," he said angrily, pacing before the fire. "That a nobleman that has lived his life and career in the company of royalty would know not offend one of royal blood! Especially when the husband of the target of his insult is within earshot." He made a strangling noise in his throat and sat down heavily in the chair across from mine, where I had been calmly knitting a dark blue scarf for him.

"Was it about me?" I asked quietly. He did not respond, instead he set his head in his clenched fists, eyes closed. I stood up and placed my knitting in my chair, walking over to my husband and placing my hands on his shoulders, kneading them. He stiffened at first, and then relaxed under my touch.

"The gall and arrogance of these petty men! They are shameless!" Thorin continued furiously. "It is not their place to question the motives and intents of their king."

"I agree," I murmured, willing for him to carry on.

His hands covered mine, stilling them, and he turned to look at me grimly. "They question your honor and why you wedded me. They say you desire power and came here to up-heave the political structure of our kingdom."

I almost laughed – the idea was absurd. But the intent look in Thorin's eyes kept me from turning the situation into a joke. "You cannot change the thought or intents of pandering noblemen," I reassured him. "You can only hold your head high and not give in to trivial dramas."

Thorin closed his eyes again and rested his forehead against our hands. "Your wisdom surpasses mine at nearly three-quarters my age," he moaned.

"It's not wisdom," I said. "Only common sense born from social experience."

"You must think me to be a fool, raging over such a trifling."

"No," I said gently. "Any emotion can be a strength, dependent only on how you use it."

Thorin was still, and after a few moments I went back to my knitting while he stared into the fire. We spent the remainder of the evening in a more comfortable silence.

...

We were soon after moved from the King's chambers into Thorin's quarters. It had been quite gracious of the King to lend his massive rooms to us, but I would miss the windows and space – or so I thought.

Thorin had led me blindfolded into his rooms. I was incredibly nervous – I did not like surprises. Several steps later, the floor raised and I could feel a chill breeze. Thorin took the blindfold from my eyes, and I found myself standing on a balcony on the side of the mountain, facing the golden fields that surrounded it!

My surprised expression made Thorin laugh as he wrapped his arm around me. "I had this cut for you," he said. "So that you could have your flowers."

I did not speak, instead I threw my arms around the prince's neck. After a moment, I murmured, "You are the sweetest dwarf I have ever met."

Thorin kissed me. "Only the best for my wife. Also –" he pulled a package from his vest. "I had these seeds bought for you from Dale. You'll find anything else you need in that box," he motioned towards a carved wooden chest on the balcony.

I started right away. I told Thorin of my desire to have chairs on the balcony, and he took it upon himself to carve them by his own hands out of oak. I potted several pots of seeds over the following weeks, which bloomed violently in the warm spring air. The atmosphere the fresh air and blooming flowers created was beneficial to me as I continued to try to help Thorin to overcome his frustration over the continuing political tensions. He would often work with his hands to release his anger – either on the chairs or weaving rope. A thankful discovery for me was that Thorin relaxed when I played with his hair – braiding it or otherwise. He would stop what he was doing and hunch his back in relaxation. These tender moments kept me rational in my isolation, and helped the prince to retain his sanity.