"Is she the one?" Dís whispered to her brother.
"That is she," Frerin replied, "I recognize her from the feast."
"I did not get a good look at her that night," Dís said, "She looks as if she couldn't lift dust from a mantel."
"I agree," Frerin said, "Very thin. I doubt the king will be pleased."
"Thorin has found something worthwhile in her," Dís said, "and I trust our brother's judgment, therefore I will like her as well as I might."
"Let us go," Frerin said, taking his sister's arm, "They'll be heading to grandfather's throne room first, I don't doubt."
This was not the only conversation of its kind when the dwarf prince Thorin marched into Erebor with a human woman on his arm.
In fact, by the time the pair had crossed the first hall, even the dwarves in the deepest parts of the mines had heard some version of the tale.
Marryn gazed about the hall in awe. She had heard great tales of Erebor and its cavernous halls and staircases, but found her breath taken by the beauty of it.
"There is Thorin the first," the dwarf prince pointed to one of several enormous stone statues of noble-looking dwarves with hard expressions, "Nain the first, there."
He smirked slightly at his companion's expression. Her gray eyes were wide with wonder and it was an effort for her to keep her mouth closed. She fiddled nervously with the moon pebble that now hung from her neck on a gold chain.
They hesitated outside a heavy green door.
"This is the throne room of the king of Erebor," Thorin said, taking Marryn's hand, "Worry not, my lady. You look beautiful."
Marryn gulped and nodded. Thorin gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and led her through the door.
Arm in arm, they approached the throne. Marryn tried to keep her eyes from wandering.
"Hail Thror, son of Dain the first, King of Erebor," Thorin called.
The king was an intimidating figure, ornamented with heavy armor and intricate crown. He was surrounded by guards and his son, Thrain, who Marryn had seen at the feast. There were two others, undoubtedly siblings of Thorin judging by appearance.
"Two stand before me, yet only one do I recognize," the king said, "Thorin, pray tell me who you bring before the throne of Erebor."
His voice was more powerful than Marryn would have guessed from a dwarf so ancient in appearance.
"Your highness, I bring before you the good Lady Marryn of Dale," Thorin declared, "She has come to see Erebor with her own eyes and to look upon its great king."
Marryn curtsied, keeping her eyes downcast and her mouth in a polite grin.
The dwarf king looked from Marryn to Thorin to Thrain and back again.
"A highly unusual visitor," Thror said, "Still, until she proves otherwise, she is a welcome one."
A weight lifted from Marryn's chest. She had to stop herself from sighing with relief.
"You are invited to join us for supper, Lady Marryn," the king added, nodding to her.
"Thank you, your highness," Marryn said, trying to hide her shaking hands, "Your kingdom is great and beautiful beyond description. Stories of the dwarves' skill and craftsmanship do them no justice."
Thror looked surprised. "I am flattered by your praise. You have only seen my foyer."
All the dwarves chuckled warmly, including Thorin.
"Show our visitor something truly impressive, Thorin," the king said, "Frerin, Dís, accompany them. Perhaps between the three of you, you might be able to recall most of the history of the kingdom."
"Yes, your majesty," the two siblings bowed and joined Thorin and Marryn.
The four of them marched out of the king's presence. Only Frerin looked back to see the dark look upon the king's face.