The market was bustling as always, with merchants striking deals, coins jingling, and auctions being held.
Marryn was approached by a seller as soon as she entered the plaza. He was a ruddy, gray-haired dwarf with beetle-black eyes.
"Rubies, my lady," he said, holding up a glittering red necklace, "A good warm color for a lovely lady as we head into this colder season."
"Oh, no, thank you, sir," Marryn mumbled, stepping around him, her eyes searching the crowd.
Weaving about the crowded street, she began to wonder if she had missed Thorin somewhere along the way.
He emerged from the crowd already smiling. The dwarf approached Marryn and moved to embrace her, but thought better of it and took her hands in his.
"Lady Marryn," he said, gazing up at her, "I hope I find you well."
"Quite well, my lord," Marryn replied with a shy grin, "And yourself?"
"As of this moment, very well indeed," Thorin said.
The two of them hooked arms and made their way out of the crowded market.
Even away from the market, the city of Dale was relatively busy, often filled with strangers from other lands.
"Is Erebor so crowded?" Marryn asked as she and her companion turned a corner to head toward the fountain.
"I would say not," Thorin replied, "Not so many people but no less noise. Work never stops there."
They approached the fountain. In its center stood a tall stone statue of a king whose name had long been forgotten by all but the very wise. His strong, outstretched arm held aloft a sword, the tip of which was crumbled away.
The dwarf and his lady sat on the stone edge, listening to the trickling water.
"You might visit sometime," Thorin added, "If you would like."
"To Erebor?" Marryn asked.
"I would be delighted to show you my home," Thorin said, "The walkways, forges, great statues of my ancestors. I would introduce you to my father and to King Thror...if you found it agreeable, of course. I would understand if you wanted none of it."
Thorin looked away as if ashamed. Marryn smiled and took one of his hands in both of hers.
"It would be an honor to see the great kingdom under the mountain," she said, her face growing slightly pink, "Even if only to see the home of a most excellent dwarf prince."
Thorin chuckled and looked long at the lady's face, noticing now that the bridge of her nose was lightly freckled.
She tilted her head, a strand of moonlight falling from her shoulder.
"In your letter, you wrote that your cousins believed Habah was some sort of magician," she said with a smirk, "Would you like to meet him?"
"I'd be glad to," Thorin said, standing up, "Lead the way, my lady."
The pair hooked arms once more and marched two streets over. In the middle of one side sat the old tailor's shop. It was a well cared for building of white stone with a terracotta roof and a large bay window displaying the newest styles available.
Marryn opened the heavy wooden door for her guest. Thorin stepped inside and looked around the shop.
It was a clean, cool place with neatly arranged shelves of fabric and ribbon along one wall.
A short, bent old man appeared from the next room with thinning white hair and an ever-present smile.
"Marryn!" he said, startled.
"Haban," Marryn said with a grin, "may I present Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Prince of Erebor."
Haban bowed deeply at the waist. Thorin bowed his head slightly.
"I look upon a favorite tailor of the dwarves and he who raised the good lady Marryn," Thorin said, "I can think of no greater honor."