Meisar ascended the steps toward the gallery of kings, nervous and exhilarated together. She lifted the heavy skirts of her gown desperate not to trip on the still-chipped stairs. The heeled fox fur slippers she wore were not helping much with that. She was bathed with every inch of her being thoroughly scrubbed by Dis's handmaidens. Dirt from her neck and hair and knees and the rough spots at her elbows ran into the pristine bathwater so much she was embarrassed for it. They heaped salves upon her skin where it was rough and dry, buffed her fingernails until they lay clean and pale as pearls and painted her lips in rosewater.

The ringing of the bells that morning had woken her from the first deep sleep she had known in many months, the soft feather-stuffed cushion of a bed beneath her. The bells, and Dis's chambermaids Griet and Bertha, flinging open the doors to her room with arms full of linens and an invitation from Dis to join her in her chambers to ready themselves for the welcoming ceremony.

Dis's ladies parted for her as she entered the princess's chamber. Aroin greeted her with a broad smile and a less outwardly condescending aire. "Gracious lady, I bid you a fair morning," the dwarrowdam enunciated every word. "Our queen to be. You will want to establish your own household I'm sure but for the time being, I shall be at your service," she continued primly.

Griet and Bertha went about their tasks, and there was Elsa, her nursemaid, who slept on a raised pallet bed beside the princess's own. Warm-faced and sagely, she donned a patterned kirtle of goldenrod and rust under a dusty-plum pinafore, her gray braided hair snaking out of a matching coif. She curtsied kindly to Meisar and stood to embrace and kiss her on both cheeks. "Welcome my lady. I am Elsa. Though I serve the lady princess, I shall be too at your disposal, and the king's."

"Does she come?" the familiar quiet voice came from the other side of the room, better lit in the busy morning than in the princess's long, lone afternoons. Dis sat in her chair, still in her nightgown and hugging her bed-robe about her, with her handmaids tending to her long thick black hair. She turned and smiled anemically at Meisar as she entered. "Hundreds will present themselves tonight to swear their loyalty to the king and welcome him home," said Dis, proudly but with the same heaviness in her voice. "There will be a formal oath-taking ceremony after the coronation. For now, they are just eager to see him. And you."

"And you, your highness?"

Dis smiled bittersweet. "The people have little known my presence. I suppose they wonder after me. They will see that I am alive," Dis remarked flatly.

"They once called for you as queen."

"Yes, but I ill-received the offer," she sighed. "There is no desire in me even now. I wish to live quietly, Meisar." She beckoned Meisar to sit before her. "I did very much desire your presence here, dear sister. It is hard for me to elaborate such things to Thorin." Her ladies knowingly withdrew. "You lift a burden from me. They shall be eager to see the dwarrowdam who has captured my brother's wounded heart. And pay me lesser heed. I wish that very much. Their whispers around this kingdom..."

"They would not speak ill of you, uzbadnatha. They know how you have suffered."

"Yes, they know, of my suffering and my inability to mend my grieving heart, always as if it were torn from me yesterday. I barely function sometimes. All dwarves know the pain of grief for it is the nature of our lot, but they carry on. I have not," Dis lamented flatly. "Aroin seems to my affairs for the most part," she acknowledged the arrogant dwarrowdam tiredly, Aroin's tight lips smiling knowingly back. Even though Dis was younger than Thorin, her face looked older. Her hair remained solidly black though, without a streak of silver or white in it. She had a fine, wispy black beard that edged her jaw and was plaited into the rest of her hair just below her ears, decorated in a string of tiny rubies like individual drops of blood at the chin. "I want for nothing in the world… anymore. When what you truly want… you will never have again…"

"I think Thorin would rather be dead and forsake me, should they have been given life in his place," Meisar confessed quietly. "I harbor no offense or anger for that sentiment."

"No?" Dis queried with a warm but pained smile. Meisar shook her head affirmatively. "I cannot imagine his pain my lady princess, nor yours. I've had no children, nor much family to speak of, that I might mourn."

"Madarrathûna," murmured Dis. "That is what the reverent call me. She who continues to mourn. Madallatûna say the healers when they think I cannot hear them or read the expressions in their eyes. Mazallalûna, the common folk say. Supposing they are right." Dis lifted her half-full cup of ale and drank, squeezing her eyes shut, until the cup was drained. "Let us get through the business of this day," she said finally, the back of her hand wiping her lips. She smiled, the creases in the corners of her pale blue eyes deepening. "And then," she continued, taking Meisar's hand in hers serenely. "We will get to the business of preparing for this wedding."

.

Thorin met her at the foot of the great staircase and offered her a bow along with his arm, as regal as ever. He wore no crown, his dark head bare, and a fine surcoat of fur and patterned leather over a midnight blue doublet and black soft fur-trimmed boots. He had the look of nobility, but no more ostentatious than any of the other wealthy dwarves who had returned to Erebor. To behold him weakened Meisar's knees and made her heart skip a beat in her chest, a warmth spreading over inside her ribs for his sight. His regal attire and the dignity that etched itself like stone onto his face magnified his handsomeness a thousandfold. Dwalin by his side was dressed in a less-ragged fur mantle, a dark-green over-tunic and shined boots, hints of his weapons glinting at the edges of his clothing.

He had not left Thorin's side since the brief gathering of the council the day before, going so far as to sleep on a pallet bed by his side the way Elsa slept by Dis's. No nursemaid was Dwalin but bearing the title of Zukhsel already. Lieutenant of all lieutenants, the head of the guard and one of the most prestigious of all titles or duties in the king's service. He stood proud beside Thorin, protective as ever, but more at ease than ever Meisar had beheld him. Looking upon her, he gave her the first smile he had ever openly offered her.

Thorin studied his betrothed with gladness, and surprise. "Meisar…"

"My king," she answered, blushing. Her ruddiness was stubborn, though painted over so lightly now she had just soft, blushing apples at her cheeks. Time under the mountain would pale that beautiful skin.

"You look at me as if you've had a fright, Thorin."

"I have never seen you so… beautiful."

She wore a simple gown of umber velvet, a modest square neckline trimmed from the shoulders in an overlaying V of dark fur still displaying the peaks of her full breasts amply. Her bosom was so generous un-aided it needed not the tight bodice Dis had the seamstress fit to her to enhance them. And yet with it they were pushed higher and fuller, dusted in small freckles as a mountain's peaks would be in snow on the eve of winter. Her hair was worn entirely loose, for the first time in his sight, with the stubborn braid waves mostly tamed from the bath. It flowed gracefully to her knees behind her.

He had long been uncannily smitten by her inelegance. But now that she was richly gowned and bejeweled however modestly in just a collar of moonstone, her beauty disarmed him.

"I do clean up nicely when I try. I have never really tried…"

Dis had done well, and her ladies. He held the rosy cheeks in both of his hands and pressed an ardent kiss to her lips, in the sight of the gathering dwarves. It felt like ages since he had kissed her. She could hear the whispers, the eyes on her. But she could feel Dis's at the head of the stair behind her, even Dwalin's smiling on her and was no longer abashed.

"It is rather sudden, this ceremony," she breathed, eyeing the dwarves gathering below, the white noise of their chatter sounding convivial in nature at least.

"The dwarves of Erebor desired it. I am glad to oblige them."

"A fine king you are, and always will be."

His chin swept lightly past her cheek, offering her a chaste, courtly kiss there. Remaining close, he whispered with affection into her hair. "I will adorn you in gold, my queen, and jewels and furs."

"I wish only to be adorned in you."

"As I do you, and we need not jewels, or any clothing, for that."

"My king, you make me flush so!" she whispered, breathlessly, her knees weakening under her imagining her own body expanding for and welcoming him, herself a cavernous and welcoming hall whose veiling wall any skilled mattock or ax could undo.

"Ah, but you will be my queen, and consort of the last great dwarf kingdom in Middle Earth. I will treat you as such, and in ways that gold could never match..."

She squeezed his arm with both of hers. "First, we will fix the stairs."

She took halting steps beside him, trying to appear formal and rigid with her arm rested on his, fingertips clasped in his palm. The fear in her was palpable, the suddenness of eyes on her. She felt small and strange in her rich dress and with her hair loose. Dwarves that had gathered at the foot of the great stair for them parted and bowed. Escorted by Balin, Dis descended a moment later. "My dear brother." Thorin leaned and kissed her hand. Dis was ever regal and somber, in a black robe with fur lining over her black taffeta gown, her rubies again the only shock of color about her save for the cuffs and the high neck of her white under-gown whose ruffled edges were visible at her wrists and below her chin. The puffed upper sleeves and shoulders of the formal robe purposely disguised how thin he had grown. She wore a snood of black spiders-silk, latticed in rubies all along her hairline, the thick black hair all contained. The dwarves of Erebor were whispering of her spare figure, she told Meisar, with a hint of shame in her eyes.

Thorin embraced Dis and kissed her gently on both cheeks. "My sweet sister, the people shall be glad of your sight."

"To see that I still live I suppose," Dis responded, struggling to keep her smile.

"To see their princess, the mother of two princes who... gave their lives valiantly so that this kingdom might live again," Thorin's assuring voice wavered. The siblings held each other's gaze tautly, each holding back tears, their arms braced on each other, gripping tight just above each other's elbows. "My dear sister. You know you have my love. I shall always honor what I swore to you the day before this," Thorin whispered ardently, their foreheads together.

Meisar drew back reverently to lean upon Balin's arm. The old dwarf squeezed and patted her hand. Dis drew back from Thorin and motioned for Balin to to proffer his arm to escort her. "Are you ready, your highness?"

"Yes."

"And you?" Thorin asked of Meisar, taking her arm in his own.

"I am."

She stayed close to his side as they descended and made their way toward Thror's Hall, her arm rested on his. Her palm rested atop the back of his raised hand. He could feel her trembling, her fear raw, but she never faltered. He wove his fingers into hers and clasped tight at them. Together she and Thorin walked the veritable gauntlet of the dwarves who had come to behold their king. They were miners from the simplest of households, all the way to the dwarves who had retained their wealth through exile, all dressed in their finest regardless of station. A few recognized her from their journey east, and acknowledged her respectfully, for she had always been fair in her dealings. The doors to the great throne hall were opened and the king and his betrothed, following by Balin and Dis, Dwalin at the rear, proceeded. Thorin sat upon the throne, crownless, as the dwarves came forth into the hall one by one to greet him. Meisar and Dis stood on either side of him, and Dwalin, and Balin too.

Dwarves of diverse quality moved along the receiving line. Dwarf-men came with their wives and children, more with their kin or even alone. The miners in their wall-walking suits all sooty blew out each other's headlamps before they presented themselves. The guilds wore their aprons. Other dwarf men arrived in belted fur-lined coats of imprinted velvets, in a myriad of shades both muted and bold, moved forward along the receiving line, wives, if they had them, equally attired luxuriantly. There were not very many dwarflings amongst them but where they stood, they stood as elegantly and reverently as their kin, even the littlest ones in their mothers' arms, wide eyes seeming to acknowledge the importance of the occasion. To Dis each knelt and kissed her ruby-ringed hand and offered their condolences, praising the courage of the princes in their last hours. The dwarrowdams took her in their arms and some embraced her a long while, whispering words of comfort and praise in her ear. Dis had stood the whole of the time controlling her tremor, holding back her tears.

To Meisar they offered their congratulations, their welcoming gestures polite and formal, some genuinely mirthful, especially from the dwarrowdams. For their congenial greetings there was a studiousness to every eye that beheld her. A bemusement in some it seemed, though not wholly for ill. Founded rumors seemed even more confounding in the real to them, for she was no youthful creature, no spry, rotund dwarven maiden with silken wisps for her beard. In spite of the many layers of fine clothing, she felt naked, for the bareness of her face alone. When at last Freyda and Gyda, the first of the familiar faces, approached together, she let out a deep breath of relief, the corset stymieing her exhalation. They greeted Thorin first and then embraced her together. Gyda's copper hair was pulled back into many small elegant braids, and she wore a long lavender dress belted beneath the bosom with a rope belt of blue tassels, Freyda in a cream-colored kirtle with a blue-and-gray patterned over-gown. She and Dwalin exchanged furtive smiles at each other, Dwalin doing his best to hide his. And Bofur and Brynja then came hand in hand. Bofur cleaned up and decently attired, still in his hat nonetheless. Brynja was in yellow brocade, a circlet of diamonds in her hair. A promise kept, Meisar thought gladly as she embraced Brynja, remembering what Thorin had promised her upon the stair and trying not to let her body heat up with Brynja so close.

She drew back to stand by Dis as the line came and came and the dwarves greeted him with joy and fealty. "After everything they are so loyal to him, for all that has been," she observed quietly to the princess.

"As dwarves are," Dis replied. "Loyal to a fault, forgiving to a fault. But for my brother, a fault perhaps well-placed. They stand here in these halls for his daring. For his sacrifice. For my sons'." She gave Dis's arm a tender squeeze. "They say his return to life is a prophecy fulfilled," Dis whispered.

"That all that should end in sadness and the lake would shine and burn?" Meisar breathed back cautiously.

"No," said Dis. "Another one."

.

After the ceremony a time of feasting in the evening came, the king, his bride-to-be sitting at the long table which was raised a little higher than the others in the great hall. Emli and Gloin joined them at the high table, with Gimli sitting off to their side impatiently. Aroin sat to their side with Oin; she and Emli exchanged tight-lipped glances from the time they were seated. Gloin's talk ran endlessly. "…Running water is up to the whole of the kingdom now. Hot baths to be enjoyed by all, whenever they please. The chambers of sustenances are well-stocked and…"

Thorin took a long breath; the scent of metal hung faint in the air, the lightness of the smoke from the forges far down below their feet.

Under the table he silently held her hand, leaned closer to her as the night wore on and the dwarves rejoiced for his return, grateful for the meat and ale that were provided to all who came. For the moment, it seemed though, they were alone in their own strange universe, only the two of them, Erebor dark again and they each other's only light. She felt safe with him, and loved, as if she were in his eyes the most precious being in all the universe. Thorin could be worshipful yes. Gold and glittering stones plucked from the heart of this mountain, which had stolen his heart as it had his kin, had inflamed him before. And it frightened her a little. His thumb traced a line along her jaw and he leaned in to kiss her gently on her lips as they departed the hall. "More than all this kingdom," he whispered lowly. "I love you."

"Come, I shall take you to your quarters," Dis said, sweeping by like a ghost. Arm in arm like sisters Dis took her. Thorin watched her walk away, with her beautiful red hair all loose, the carefulness of her steps, trying to imitate the commanding grace of Dis's stride.

"You have brought me happiness by your presence, my lady," Dis confessed gently as they took the quiet corridor of stone toward the royal quarters. "To have a female presence whose purpose is not to serve and placate me. Thorin has no need of disingenuous folk. Nor do I. You are quite a raw figure, aren't you?"

"Raw?"

"You are what I see."

"Ah," she smiled then, giving Meisar no chance to respond. "Here is your room. You'll lodge her until the wedding. And then..." Dis blushed, but maternally in her way. "I shall think my brother less lonely in the nights." She stepped inside and bid Dis goodnight. Another guest chamber there had been prepared, good lodgings. Goose down pillows and a heavy fur comforter on a large four post bed welcomed her eagerly. There were several large candelabras, a fireplace lit and braziers on the wall too, and a carved armoire in the corner. Griet came and had helped her out of the bodice and heavy skirts and she slipped on a long silky white chemise with billowing sleeves.

Before she could settle into the bed a knock came at the door and the scratches of animals. Eda came spilling in trailed by Redcoat, Raincloud and Fred. The dogs leapt up on the bed and furiously licked her face, their excited whines echoing off the ceiling. "My furred babes!" she exclaimed. "And Eda, safely delivered. Do come, sit with me, my friend." Eda took a seat on the edge of the bed, relaxing.

"Any sign of Siv or Nori?"

"No," she frowned. "Will I ever see her again I wonder?"

"You will. Nori wouldn't abandon his brothers so hastily anyway, and I am quite certain they have kept each other fond company. They'll turn up."

"Well," grumbled Eda. "Fonder company than she must think me anyway." The old healer sighed. "How does Thorin do?"

Meisar dropped her eyes to the comforter around her, patting Redcoat gently over and over. "Well, I think. He is strong. At least I think he is. He has to be." The tears he had shed in her presence at Ravenhill were for her eyes alone, she mused solidly. Any other thoughts she might have deigned to lose herself in at the moment were abruptly interrupted by a boisterous parade of dwarrowdams bursting into her room. Freyda and Gyda, Brynja, Hegi and Emli.

The dwarrowdams all sat on her bed and gathered close. "A queen must have her ladies I am told. I would have each of you join my household. Both Dis and her secretary Aroin say it is necessary." "My horrid sister in law, that wretched Aroin! A persona better suited to overseeing the dungeons I say! Bossy! Pompous! An arrogant mule! I despise her so! I shall serve you, my queen, for the purpose of avoiding her, though not the only one certainly," seethed Emli, smiling at the tail end of her rant.

"I would be happy for your presence as my lady, Emli. And all of you. As we were upon the road, we shall always be." The dwarrowdams all embraced together in a group hug on the bed, the three hounds scratching to come within the close circle. Hegi fed them cold meats from her pocket.

"I shall need each of you more than you know," Meisar confessed quietly. A fragile moment, she thought. Never had she needed for anything or craved it, love or companionship, especially of females; now it felt as necessary as the air she breathed. Gyda and Brynja swooned together. "These will be my chambers until the wedding. You are each welcome here any time you wish. I would be happy for old company, for certain," she smiled, tired from the long day. "Aye and you are welcome at my father's home. Gyda has joined our household, and we shall live together as sisters." The young dwarrowdam, still in her clothes, the finest she had ever donned no doubt, eyed Freyda with giddy graciousness. "And mine," added Brynja. "Oh my lady Bofur has made us a fine home now."

Into the night they kvetched and shared their awe for the kingdom and argued over the minutest of details the wedding might include. When they had departed late into the night, she lay on the bed with her hounds about her and stretched her tired limbs. She fell into a long and dreamless slumber that night under the mountain. For the clattering of the forges deep below, it was quiet in the subterranean depth where she lay her head. Nothing had ever felt so safe as the embrace of stone.

.

Thorin stepped lightly into the cavernous nave. These were the catacombs, the vast resting places of kings and princes, great warriors and craftsman alike. The dead lay in rows and intricate geometric patterns each tomb beautifully carved and set in many jewels. Thorin followed the line. Frerin and Thror and Thorin's mother Tania in a beautiful tomb of white marble and emeralds. Beside her two tombs abreast forged in onyx, their ruby markers untouched by light clotted, like orbs of blood. Kili rested at the left, and Fili to his right.

He knelt before the tombs of his nephews and wept silently in the dark for some time.

Madallatûna- She Who Continues to Fall Into a State of Mental Decay

Mazallalûna- She Who Continues to Drink Ales Excessively