AN:I've had this chapter ready to go for a few weeks but the second half felt off, so I decided to split it and post the first half as is in honor of the great pause. Stay inside if you can people and wash your hands.

Two healers had come at about the same time so they both saw her. Oin had been called at Fíli 's insistence and the older woman who used to live near them on Laketown had been called by Tilda first thing. Sigrid had thought seeing both was too much but Fíli wouldn't let it go and she had given in. Thankfully Agne and Oin had worked together after the battle and got along. They were able to deduce that there was likely nothing wrong with her but eating something that didn't agree with her and needed some rest.

Fíli stood by the window the whole time, eyebrows furrowed and his frustration evident on the tightness of his shoulders. His jaw clenched when Agne had gently asked her about her last cycle, alluding to whether or not she was with child.

Going over that with Fíli in the room had been mortifying and had wished she had asked him to step out. But it was only natural for her husband to be in the room. Sigrid's face had burned during this and Oin had nodded along, taking notes.

They cleared her for normal activities, though they cautioned about overdoing it. Mind what she ate and she'd be fine after a few days. Fíli hadn't liked it from the way he glared at the door when they left. She got out of bed and came up to him. The sun was out and the festivities would start soon, Sigrid knew that he had morning duties to attend to that morning. Fíli made no move to leave yet.

"You don't agree with them." She didn't bother phrasing it like a question, it was evident in the way he glared out the window.

"Of course not. They didn't see you at that moment. They didn't see how pale you were."

"I feel better, I'll be careful not to let Tilda pump me full of sweets, alright?"

She wanted to reassure him or argue with him, he didn't do either. Instead, she began to figure out how she would survive her day. She started with finding something comfortable to wear from her old dresses, not caring that they weren't as fine as the ones she wore now.

"What if they're wrong? What if you get worse?"

"Then I go back to them? I could just be fighting a nasty cold, I am human and not used to the mountain."

She finally found one that she made herself for a different winter festival and set it out before sitting at her old mirror to begin dealing with her hair.

The mirror had been found amidst the ruins of Dale and Sigrid had loved the ornate design on the frame, though the mirror was cracked down the middle. She undid the braid Tilda had done for her and began fumbling with the clasp on her marriage braid.

Fíli had come up next to her, took the braid from her, undoing the clasp. She didn't know why her nerves were on edge, he had helped her a few times with her hair since they married. But there was something about the way he looked at her as he worked with nimble fingers, carting through her hair, his face finally looked calm. His face was constantly showing his ire lately that seeing him look at her like this made her for a moment forget last night. But soon the image of Lady Amet's earnest face came to mind.

Sigrid knew she was being irrational, there was no reason for her to be upset about this dam. Fíli had chosen to marry her, not Lady Amet, she had to remind herself of that fact. He didn't owe her anything though, their marriage had never been anything but a transaction of two friends. He could have picked someone else so easily but he hadn't. Instead, he picked a girl who was floundering as a princess and had given her the ability to stay close to her family. He had done it for himself as well but Sigrid was beginning to wonder if he regretted the choices they had made.

Fíli 's braid was much cleaner than anything she could ever do but as he pulled away she felt the need to pull him back towards her till he sat on the seat. Fíli 's confusion was palpable, it mirrored hers. Sigrid took a steadying breath before she reached out and began to undo his braids. She hadn't done it since the day they got married and she tried her best to undo them gently, running her fingers through his wild mane. His hair was thicker than hers and could hold so many braids and beads. She undid them all, handing him the beads as she went along. She didn't look down at his face, concentrating on each braid before running her brush through it.

When she had moved into the mountain he had shown her what each of his braids meant, how the one with the mithril bead was the one that showed that he was the crowned prince. The one with the sapphire was the one that proclaimed him as a descendant of Durin, the one with the simple quartz stone was the one that spoke of his father's family. The intricate one was the one for his mastery in jewelry from the guild. And the prominent one with thin vines and simple flowers was the one that told the world that he was hers. She put them in one at a time, fixing them in a twist on the back of his head. She took a ribbon from her drawer and tied a simple bow on the back.

"I hope you don't mind, I don't have any leather straps."

Fíli had his eyes closed the whole time, smiled when he saw the ribbon. "I'll be the prettiest thing in the whole match."

She smiled down at him, "Oh I don't know, I think a few of those elves might be just as pretty."

He laughed, surprising them both, it had been so long since he had laughed like that with her. For a moment she pushed aside all of her worries and joined him. At this moment there was no crown, no mountain, no one threatening her, no court.

It was just them.

Fíli walked into the field to a thunderous roar of the crowd. The sky was overcast and the chill penetrated him through his armor, he hadn't dressed warm, but he knew he would be working up a sweat soon enough. His tournament swords were out and he spun them in his hands a few times, keeping his hands loose and keeping his nerves at bay.

He tried to not look at the stands around him but as always he couldn't help when his eyes landed on Sigrid. Ever graceful, ever poised Sigrid looked every bit the princess draped in furs. Her eyes met him instantly and she gave him a sad smile.

Fíli hadn't been pleased with the healers' assessment of her ailments that morning, he had told her as much when they had left. She had as always reassured him, she was always reassuring him. But that didn't stop him from noticing even now at a distance just how tired she looked.

Even getting ready this morning he noticed just how slow she moved and how she fumbled with her hair. Without thinking he had come and helped her with her braid, undoing it for her, his fingers feeling too rough on her hair, the strands catching on his callouses. The color was something he had always admired, like spun gold.

The sound of the crowd grew as they began to spread out, Kíli clapping him on the shoulder before taking one side, Tauriel to the other. He found himself walking towards the dais where Sigrid sat with her sister and his mother. The unease returned, it had been clawing at him for days as he saw her draped in every fur they had been able to find. He hadn't wanted to leave her side, knowing he had missed a meeting first thing because he was afraid of taking his eyes off of her.

Fíli had to remind himself time and time again that she was fine, that she was safe, that she was near. Sigrid was his responsibility and he didn't take it lightly. So many mistakes had been made by him already and he knew last night was the biggest yet. Seeing her looking half dead, shivering despite the roaring fire and the sea of blankets that swallowed her had torn at him most of the night.

Tilda had assured him that she had already awoken once and he had found himself begging to let him see Sigrid. He had lost his temper so many times in the last few days that he felt shame and frustration just thinking about it.

The horn sounded, bringing him out of thoughts that were of no use and he had to drop himself into the moment. He felt his feet move as one as the man next to him went straight for his head.

His confusion and frustration over the last few months did not pour out of him as it had the day before. Dwalin and Uncle had already given him a few words, as had his mother. Drilling into his head just how careless he had been. Now he tried to bank all the anger and fear he felt, he needed to make it through unscathed. Fíli had promised Sigrid before he left her side to be careful and he was trying his best.

So he did not scream, he did not shout or taunt, he fought like he needed to make it out of there alive. He took no risks and cleared his side, careful to not let anyone come up behind him.

Sigrid was watching him and he knew how much it affected her when he fought like an idiot, when he acted like an idiot.

They had so much to say to one another, so much to clear through, and they just needed to make it through this damnable festival so that he could find the time to talk and to tell her. She deserved to know, despite how she may react, he needed to show her the honesty she deserved. He had been so close to just telling her this morning, to just letting his words stumble out, but as always they were interrupted.

He hated himself for putting her through hell, for dragging her into this, for putting her in danger. When she had clung to him in her sleep he vowed to tell her the truth. The sadness she carried today was unbearable and he couldn't let them continue the way they were.

He just had to finish this fight, and the next one and the next.

Sigrid had only seen a peacock once in a traveling menagerie when she was a child, big plumes strutting around as if it owned the place. She felt she saw many now. Dwarves, men, and elves dressed in their finest armor but the dwarves from the iron hills... Sigrid was surprised that they had made it this far.

So much gold and baubles attached to their armor, one, in particular, looked like they could barely move inside of the layers of gold and jewels. One wore a large plume of red feathers on top of his helm and what looked like diamonds embedded around the eye slit. Lady Dis turned her nose at all of them next to her. "Bunch of strutting birds. Look at them, as if they can even fight under there."

Tilda who looked worn out but still eager for the day was sitting at the edge of her seat, "I bet you the one with the chains is the first one down, he can't even hold his sword upright."

Lady Dis nodded towards the other side, "I think that elf with the capes is going to go first."

The elf in question had many capes of thin material ill-suited for the cold blistering wind.

The braziers were lit all around them and Sigrid was deep under a pile of furs and yet the chill penetrated her as she watched Fíli and his brother walk onto the field. He had left his hair the way she had done it, her blue ribbon threatening to blow away. He did not make a show of it, he walked in with determination, his twin blades twisting in his hands idly. He wore simple armor of leather, black against the gray around him. He wore no gems, no adornments but the beads in his hair. Behind Fíli and Kíli was Bain looking ever so much like her father, his hair was longer now, pulled back. He wore a mixture of leather and metal that he always wore when on patrol with the guard. Her father hated it, wishing his son wore something a bit thicker but he always preferred something he could move in.

Tauriel wore her simple leathers of green and brown and moved away from Kíli with a laugh. They were all spreading around and her eyes found Fíli easily as he made his way closer to the dais. Their eyes met and for a moment she felt that awful little part of her grow warm, her heart beating harder in her chest. For the briefest of moments, he looked at her in a way that always confused her, but it was gone in seconds. His face became hard and he turned his focus to the crowd around him.

Many had gathered around him, many of the peacocks at least, all wishing to start the match against Fíli . She should be afraid for him, fear for how quickly he could be outnumbered. But she didn't really have time for it as the horn soon sounded and Fíli was off, he went after the one with the giant feathers and Sigrid heard Tilda and Lady Dis groan as neither of their picks went down first.

The ringing of steel drove the slight throb of her head to a more prominent ache but she couldn't help but watch as Fíli took down the crowd around him. He didn't need the fancy moves of the elves of the intricate armor of the Iron Hills dwarves, or the brute strength of men. He was quick and light on his feet for a dwarf but solid enough to withstand a good blow.

Sigrid had always hated watching him fight, he had been injured so badly after the war that the minute he could he went into a competition and rang his head hard. He usually fought with laughter in his eyes and drew the crowd in with his and Kíli's antics. Today there was none of that, he fought like he was trying to make it to the next day instead of making it a show.

Dodge

Counter

Strike

Fíli took out those around him one at a time while still dodging those who tried to take advantage of the situation. Sigrid watched as sword after sword fell to the ground with shields and even a helmet or two. A few gems were dislodged from the breastplate of one dwarf who hadn't seen Fíli 's blow coming, diamonds raining down around Fíli like snow.

He didn't stop, elbowing a dwarf who had tried to sneak upon him, and Sigrid could hardly take her eyes off of him but for Lady Dis' comment. "Oh, I think my nephew means to put Fíli through his paces."

Thorin, son of Dain, future lord of the Iron Hills wore heavy armor, but he was not for show. He looked intimidating as he struck his way, his eyes fixed on Fíli who hadn't noticed. Gone was the shy smile and youthful face, a hard determined look marred his features. Sigrid had heard him called 'little' and 'young' Thorin, but he seemed so large and frightening as he made his way towards his cousin.

Sigrid felt her hands taken by both Lady Dis and Tilda, the latter inching closer to brace herself from what they were seeing.

Fíli barely blocked Thorin's blow with his double swords. Fíli wore no shield and neither did Thorin, his weapon required both his hands as he swung. Fíli kicked him hard making Thorin stumble back before charging him again. Fíli dodged, Fíli struck, Fíli avoided most of Thorin's blows. But he couldn't disarm him and the longer it took the more tired Fíli became. Each time their swords rang together Fíli 's arms shook with the force of it.

Now fear lodged itself deep in her heart and each blow dug it deeper. She was afraid now, afraid of him getting hurt, of his competitiveness kicking in and him hurting his younger cousin, afraid of him losing himself in the fight like he had the day before.

All three of her fears became reality.

Thorin said something as he swung and Lady Dis hissed in anger. Whatever was said was bad enough for Fíli to react, throwing himself at his cousin. Thorin wasn't expecting it and Fíli was struck hard on the shoulder, roaring in pain, before he struck back, harder than before, the look of concentration gone. Back was the fury that he had held at bay and soon young Thorin was stepping back unable to match each blow with his sword. He was hit again and again, Fíli swinging as if he meant to hurt, as if he meant to kill.

The rules of the melé stated that they had to let it continue until one yielded or they were disarmed or unconscious. Thorin was too stubborn to see that he would not win this and Fíli was too enraged to stop.

It went on and on until they were up against the Dais and Sigrid felt her father pick her up from behind, Tilda following as he feared they were too close. Lady Dis had stood her knuckles white as she watched, unable to stop her son.

In the end, Fíli hit Thorin's sword hand over and over until finally, Thorin dropped his sword, unable to move away from the onslaught. Panting Fíli looked like he would strike Thorin again if she hadn't spoken his name out loud. His chest heaved and she saw the anger seeping out of him, in the way he carried himself, in the way he clenched his jaw, in the way he barely saw her.

He turned, looking for his next opponent but the only ones left were Bain and an older dwarf. Everyone else was either injured or had been disarmed. Bain made the dwarf yield before he turned to Fíli .

Her father had let her go as they watched, the world slowing all around them, the silence deafening. Sigrid knew Bain was still upset about the night before and Fíli was barely keeping it together. When their swords struck Sigrid felt her strength leave her and she sat back down hard and the world around her erupted in noise.

Bain and Fíli danced around each other, striking hard at the other. Bain threw a leg up and kicked Fíli , aiming for his knee, but Fíli didn't falter far, slapping his foot with the side of a sword.

Sigrid didn't know if she could bear to watch anymore, her head hurt so much now that she thought she would get sick again. Her father eventually noticed and tore his eyes away from the match that would not end.

"Sigrid, should I fetch a healer?"

Sigrid shook her head, "No, just make it stop." Her pleading made Bard look down with sadness. And he brought her head to turn and held her there so she did not have to see. "I'll tell you when it's over."

The crowd gasped, the crowd groaned, the crowd got quiet as the sound of metal scraping on metal rang louder than ever.

Her father didn't have to tell her when it was over, or that Fíli won in the end. The roar of the crowd surrounded her and soon his name was chanted all around and she looked up.

"Is Bain alright?"

Bard let out a sigh of relief as he watched the field, "Yes my love, he is. Though I don't know if the same can be said for your husband."

Sigrid turned to see Fíli stumbling, his swords dragging on the ground, his shoulder at an unnatural angle. He fell to his knees a few feet from where Bain was getting up, breathing heavily. Sigrid stood and pushed away from her father, climbing down the few steps of the dais and rushed to Fíli 's side, kneeling beside him in the mud.

She pushed the few strands of hair that had escaped his braids and scowled at him. "You idiot. What were you thinking? You could have hurt someone."

He brought up his hand to her face and bumped his head to hers gently. "I'm sorry love, but I was trying to keep from getting hurt."

Closing her eyes for a moment she held his hand to her face. "That was awful to watch."

"It's over," He murmured as he brought her head down and kissed her forehead. "I didn't mean to worry you."

She crumbled into his chest that was covered in mud and probably blood and let out a shuddering breath. His uninjured hand held her for a long time murmuring into her hair.

"It's over… It's over…"

AN: Your comments have kept this fic going, even the one that was just exclamation points. They make my day. I also have a tumblr under the same name if anyone is into that. I've posted some artwork for this on there somewhere behind all the other junk. This is also on Archive of our own if you prefer that.