My dear readers, you have my deepest and humblest apologies for taking nearly two months to post an update—the longest interval yet since I began this story. I used to joke that my Muse had been a hostage of Middle-earth since December of 2014, right after the last chapter of The Hobbit was released in theaters, but these last eight weeks it would appear that she escaped her not wholly unwilling captivity to play around in the future (did some planning and even a little writing in my Star Trek world).

The chapter you're about to read had been started almost immediately after the last, but at one point I began to think I was dragging things on too long. So I started over from a different perspective, and after a while that felt like it wasn't working either. I think that's when my Muse decided to take her break. But thankfully (at last!) she's come back to help me finish the chapter and get this story moving again. If you have kept the faith that I would come back with more story to tell, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It was never my intention to disappear like that, but sometimes we writers do have to take a step back. I am hoping, however, that my flighty Muse doesn't pull another stunt like that, because I don't want to lose my awesome followers!

Robinbird79, readpink, Celebrisilweth, SethadoreVGC, readergirl4985, dojoson41, and ThatOtherWriterGirl: you all are so wonderful for leaving a review! I so love to hear from folk who are as excited for what's going to happen next as I am.


28. Yasthûn ra Yasthûna


Over the next two weeks, Hobbiton was a flurry of activity.

The excitement over the coming wedding had spread quickly even while some questioned why the couple was in such a hurry to marry. Of course, hobbits being a talkative sort of people, it soon got around that the dwarves were keen to be on their way south once spring was truly underway, and Larkspur's father would not allow her to travel alone with four males unless she was properly wed to one of them—being merely engaged simply would not do. That the dwarf to which she was soon to be wed was in complete agreement with Isembold served to raise their opinion of the fellow considerably.

Telling her father they were going to marry went over better than either Larkspur or Dwalin had imagined. He told them that he had rather expected the news was coming, not only that they were going to marry but that his daughter would choose to leave him.

"Always has she craved her own adventure. Yavanna has truly granted her wish, it would seem," he told them tearfully.

Larkspur had embraced him then and assured him that she would come back to visit as often as she could, and swore to write him letters every week.

Besides preparing decorations and planning the menu, the hobbits were excited by the news that some Dwarven wedding customs would be integrated into the ceremony. On this subject they could only speculate, as the dwarves were not forthcoming with answers to their questions. The only thing they would say was that Thorin would be standing beside the mayor of Hobbiton, conducting a part of the ceremony in the dwarves' language.

Because Dwalin would not be staying in the Shire and thus not building a home for his new bride there, Isembold had offered the use of the Took house for their shut-in week. Traditionally, a dwarf couple would spend the first week of married life cut off from the outside world, holed up in their new home getting used to living with each other and learning how to take care of one another. Without a new home of their own, the choices were limited to the Green Dragon and his room at Bilbo's, though when the tradition was mentioned to Isembold, Larkspur's father declared they could have use of her childhood home, that he and the younger three would join his older sons in Michel Delving for the week.

And in order to fulfill the tradition of building his bride a home, Dwalin vowed to Larkspur before her entire family—the older four having arrived with their wives and children the week before the wedding—that it was the very first thing he would do for her once they reached Dwarrowvale. The older four, he'd been pleased to see, were rather more accepting of him as their sister's choice of husband than the younger three. Dwalin was also impressed that the oldest, Caradoc, had made much the same declaration—in private, of course—that Bilbo had: if he broke Larkspur's heart, there would be consequences.

Near half the Shire had been invited to the wedding, and the other half were like to turn up anyway. When April 1st dawned at last, Larkspur was somewhat surprised to find she was not nervous—merely excited to get on with it. Nerves, she knew, would come later in the evening, when she and Dwalin lay together for the first time. She'd spoken with many a married hobbit lass, including her sisters-by-law, about what to expect in the marriage bed. More than one had offered suggestions on how to please her new husband, though they admitted to wondering whether what pleased a hobbit male would be pleasurable to a dwarf…and demanded she tell them if their suggestions worked. Larkspur had blushed furiously and made no promises that she would tell them a single thing.

Patience, her brother Caradoc's wife, smiled at her in the mirror over her dressing table as she patted her shoulder, snapping Larkspur out of her musings.

"There now, sister. Your hair looks quite lovely, don't you think?" she said.

Larkspur studied the curls that were piled neatly on top of her head. "You've done a marvelous job. Will the flowers fit 'round all that?" she asked with a laugh.

Iris, wife to her brother Pardo, came over with the wreath of buttercups and set it atop her head, careful of the curls as she used pins to hold it in place. "Now you look splendid—though what to do with the braids?"

On the night of their engagement, Dwalin had woven a second braid in her hair, this one over her left ear, at the end of which he had fastened a bead carved with his family's sigil. Were they among dwarves, he told her, it would let all who saw it know that she was soon to join the House of Durin. When they married, a new bead would be added to each braid under those she already wore.

"They'll stay where they are," Larkspur said, reaching as she often did to caress the beads on them as the braids hung over her shoulders. "Dwalin must have access to them so that he may put the marriage beads into my hair."

It seemed quite sudden that it was time to begin the ceremony. Larkspur hadn't really felt anything but excitement until her father knocked on her bedroom door. At the sound she was hit with an almost overwhelming flutter of nerves in her belly, as it occurred to her she would be leaving this house a maiden, and returning to it a wife. When next she laid down on the bed that had been hers since childhood, she would not be alone.

Taking a deep breath, she stood as Caradoc's wife opened the door. When she turned to her father, his eyes misted over and a smile appeared.

"Yavanna be praised," he said as he stepped toward her and took her hands in his. "You look so much more like your mother today than ever you have before."

Tears stung her eyes at the compliment. Though she'd considered making her own wedding dress as many a hobbit lass had done before her, the notion had been brief, as she had remembered that her father had kept her mother's wedding gown safely tucked away for just this occasion. It was a beautiful ankle-length gown of pale yellow silk with fitted sleeves to the elbow and bells of sheer white silk from elbow to wrist. The neckline, waist, hem and elbows were trimmed with white silk ribbons sewed with yellow thread. The heirloom dress had been made for her mother's mother, and had allegedly been inspired by the gowns worn by Elven females.

"I so wish she was here, Papa," Larkspur said, smiling through her tears.

He gave her hands a soft squeeze. "My dear, I have no doubt she is smiling down on you. The morning dawned bright and clear, it is a warm spring day, and you will no doubt have the wedding you have always wished for."

Emotion swelled within her and Larkspur threw her arms around him. Her father chuckled softly as he returned the embrace.

"Come now, sister!" said Patience brightly. "It's time to get you married!"

Laughing as she released her father, the bride was hurriedly looked over to make sure everything was just right before her attendants led the way through the house. Larkspur walked with her hand on her father's arm, thankful the party field wasn't too far a walk from the house, as she found herself once more excited to see Dwalin in his wedding clothes.

The musicians began to play as soon as her youngest sister-in-law emerged from the house. Three more brothers' wives followed, and then the tune changed as Larkspur and her father stepped out. Everyone stood and turned toward them, blocking her view of Dwalin who stood with the mayor, Thorin, and his nephews beneath the party tree.

Well, blocking her view of everything but their heads.

In what seemed a lifetime but was only a few minutes, the small procession was at last making its way down the aisle. Soft gasps were heard from the ladies in attendance, followed by remarks on how lovely Larkspur's dress was and what a beautiful bride she made. The bride herself paid none of the gawkers any heed, as her attention was solely for her soon-to-be husband.

Dwalin wore a tunic of royal blue trimmed with light brown fur, likely from a wolf, as he'd once told her males of his family had an affinity with the animal. The buttons along the front were clearly made from gold, with a silver ring around each and a jewel in the center—rubies, as were the stones in their courting beads. His breeches were of a brown cloth a shade or so darker than the fur, and he wore a brand-new pair of black boots. His hair had been tamed into a tail and he wore the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him.

Larkspur felt her nerves vanish as their gazes met.

When at last she and her father reached the end of the aisle, the mayor stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"My fellow citizens of the Shire, we are come together on this glorious spring day to witness the joining of Larkspur Took and Dwalin, son of Fundin—" He flicked his eyes briefly to Dwalin, who nodded slightly. "—in the bonds of matrimony. Be there anyone who can give just reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or henceforth remain silent."

Beside her Dwalin tensed. In truth, Larkspur was just as afraid as he that one of the younger three would make some remark. They'd behaved civilly toward him since the Yuletide dinner fiasco, and almost warmly since he'd pulled her from the lake two weeks ago, but she could not be certain they'd not take one last opportunity to try and change her mind.

Thankfully, the requisite minute passed. She and Dwalin both sighed softly in unison, and he looked down at her with a small smile.

"Whoso gives this lass to be wed?" Hobbiton's mayor continued.

Her father cleared his throat. "Her father, her brothers, and her mother in spirit."

Larkspur gave her father's arm an affectionate squeeze as Thorin then stepped forward. "Has an appropriate bride price for the giving of your only daughter in marriage been offered?"

Murmurs went through the crowd at this, more than one hobbit wondering what a bride price was and what had been offered. Larkspur was curious about the latter herself, as neither Dwalin nor her father would discuss it with her. She made a mental note to force her husband to tell her later.

Husband, she chittered silently, her grin widening as she heard her father reply, "Offered and accepted."

Thorin nodded. "I now will speak the blessings of the Seven Families in the language of our forefathers. Though our laws dictate that the exact translation cannot be given to non-dwarves, I assure you all that they relate strongly to health, prosperity, and…fertility."

The last he said with a twinkle in his eye, before his deep baritone almost sang with resonance, the Khuzdul easily rolling off his tongue. Dwalin bowed his head as his cousin began to speak, as did Fíli and Kíli, so Larkspur did the same. When Thorin had finished, she looked up at Dwalin with a smile and was delighted to see that he once again had one for her. She then looked to her father, who kissed her cheek before at last placing her hand in Dwalin's.

The mayor grinned, then sobered before he began the next part. "Do you Larkspur, of your own free will, take this dwarf as your husband? Do you vow to give him your love and your loyalty, to stand with him in times of plenty and poverty, in times of sickness and health, and to give of your body only to him until you are parted by death?"

Looking up into Dwalin's eyes, Larkspur felt tears of joy sting her own as she said, "Before Yavanna, this I vow."

"Do you Dwalin, of your own free will, take this hobbit as your wife? Do you vow to give to her your love and your loyalty, to stand with her in times of plenty and poverty, in times of sickness and health, and to give of your body only to her until you are parted by death?"

Here, normally, a hobbit male would say the same words as Larkspur had. But due to the dwarves reverence for her husband, the declaration had been modified slightly, and Dwalin's reply was, "Before Mahal, this I vow."

The tears broke free of her hold and slipped down her cheeks. Larkspur felt her chest near to bursting with happiness as she and Dwalin now faced one another. Thorin again stepped forward, this time holding in his hand two beads. She could see that they were intricately carved and these featured not only rubies, but diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires as well, the stones arranged differently on each gold and silver bead. It was an extravagant gesture in her eyes, but she knew Dwalin wanted everyone—especially her family—to know that he could more than provide for her.

He picked up one of the beads and then reached for the braid over her right shoulder. "This bead I give to you represents our union. To every dwarf we meet, they will know you are wed. From this day until your last day—may it be very far from now—you are a daughter of the House of Durin."

With nimble fingers he added the bead to the braid, kissed it, then laid it back on her shoulder. Dwalin then reached for the braid on her left shoulder as he took the second bead held by his cousin. "This bead I give to you represents my solemn vow to build for you a home in which we will spend many years. By Mahal's grace, may that house be filled with joy, laughter, and children."

Though she could not have imagined it possible, Larkspur's smile widened even more as he brought the bead to his lips as he had the other. As he laid it back to her shoulder, Thorin stepped back and Patience stepped forward. In her hand she held three objects: two small silver clasps, one with a sapphire and the other a yellow diamond, and one larger gold clasp that had on it three gems. the third being a ruby. Thorin had helped her choose the stones and make the clasps, which she planned to add to Dwalin's beard.

Larkspur took the hair on the right of his courting braid and deftly wove another, then secured it with the clasp with the blue gemstone. "This bead I give to you represents you," she said. Then she took in her hands the hair to the left of his courting braid and wove a third; now all his beard was braided.

"This bead I give to you represents me," she said as she secured the braid with the clasp bearing the yellow stone.

Larkspur then gathered the three braids together and wrapped the larger clasp around them. "This bead I give to you represents us," she said, emphasizing the last word. She then echoed his words from moments ago, saying, "It represents our union. To every dwarf we meet, they will know you are wed. May we spend many years together, and by Yavanna's grace, may those years be filled with joy, laughter, and children."

Dwalin's smile was huge, the twinkle in his eyes from more than joy—misty they were, though it was so unlike her strong dwarf warrior to shed tears, even those of joy. More of her own happiness spilled over her cheeks to see him so moved.

"As mayor of Hobbiton, it is my proud honor to declare these happy folk are husband and wife. May Yavanna—and Mahal—forever smile upon you."

Cheers and applause erupted when Dwalin took his cue and with gentle hands at her cheeks, leaned his head down to kiss her. Larkspur threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with enthusiasm, and sighed deeply when he ended the kiss and touched his brow to hers.

"My husband," she said softly.

"Yusthê," he replied in Khuzdul.

Though she knew not the literal translation, Larkspur hazarded a guess that he had just said "My wife" in Khuzdul. She would ask him later what he actually said, but right now it did not matter.

Right now, all she could think about was that this was the happiest moment of her entire life.


Khuzdul:

Yasthûn ra Yasthûna - husband and wife (lit. wife-man, masculine singular and wife-lady - bride - feminine singular; I could find no word for "husband" in the Khuzdul dictionary I have)

Yusthê - my wife (lit. "wife" with possessive suffix -ê, which is "my")