At last, the day of the wedding had come. Sigrid had never thought it would take so long for all the preparations but dwarven customs were very precise and incredibly tedious. Thorin had insisted for them to be respected and followed to the letter. He had nevertheless agreed to pay the bride-price in advance, which had allowed Bard to buy fabric for the wedding dress from the Wood-Elves. While Sigrid was expected to sew her dress, Fíli had to provide her with a home. It meant he had to delve his own halls in the Mountain. That was why it had taken a long time, because his halls had to be worthy of the prince and heir to the throne.

At first, the delay had disappointed her. It was not that she was in a hurry to get married but she had thought the faster it would happen, the better. She wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Now, however, she saw the benefits of a long betrothal. She had time to get better acquainted with all the new customs she would have to respect, and there were so many of them. Fíli's mother, the lady Dís, had been her teacher. Patient, kind and highly respected by her people, Dís had taught her everything she needed to know. Together, they had gone through all the steps of the ceremony. Though still anxious about it, Sigrid was now far more confident. She would have liked to see more of Fíli during that time, but he was so busy building them a home she had barely seen him, except on the day where the contract had been signed. She wondered if he was as frustrated as she was. How were they supposed to get to know each other if they could not spend some time together? But maybe they would have a whole life for that. Still, it bothered her because she did not know if she would like him or not.

"Sig" her father called from downstairs. "Are you ready?"

She fastened her heavy cloak on her shoulders, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time. She could not even recognize herself. The wedding dress was of elvish design, incredibly light and soft. White with silvery branches and leaves twining all over it, it clung to her form, revealing more of her silhouette than she was comfortable to show. She had spent countless hours following the alien pattern for she was not used to sewing such intricate things. Tilda had helped her putting it on, tying all the knots to the back as tight as she could. Sigrid had then sent her little sister away for a few moments of contemplation on her own. She feared Tilda's tears would make her cry too and she could not afford to go to her wedding with puffy eyes and blotched cheeks.

The cloak was heavier than the dress, light blue wool with a collar of fur. It fell around her and strayed at the back majestically. A river of sapphires was shimmering around her neck, down to her breasts. Fíli himself had given them to her after the signing of the contract. She had never seen anything so beautiful or so costly in her entire life. The gems in her hair were even more precious, shining diamonds so small it must have taken long hours to give them the right shape. Woven together in a net, they imprisoned the top of her head like a subtle crown. She had done her hair in a large braid that hung loosely on her right shoulder. Small wisps of unruly hair still brushed her temples, no matter what she did. It would have to do, she thought before going down the stairs to meet her father.

"You look lovely, my princess" he said as he saw her, taking her hand and leading her outside, but she knew it was only the clothes and the stones that made her beautiful.

A large crowd was waiting for them in the street. She saw her sister Tilda among them, her hand clutching Bain's in an effort not to cry. Sigrid smiled at her sister, trying to look as self-assured as she could. She realized that life would be very different now. Different and lonely, without her father and siblings to keep her company. She had never been parted from them, but it was not the first time she lost someone dear, and it would certainly not be the last. She braced herself. Life had made her strong, she would use this to her advantage now. She waved at her brother and sister before making it down the road. The people had to stay in Dale but there would be feasting and rejoicing throughout the city. They knew that with her marriage would come great wealth for all of them.

Bard and Sigrid went down the stairs and along the path to the Mountain with their escort of royal guards. She could not see the need for all this. They were not at war and she was under no risk of getting snatched or hurt. But it was part of the dwarves customs, and however irksome they were, she would have to get used to them.

They were greeted at the gate by Thorin himself. The King exchanged a few words with Bard before leading them and their escort further down the Mountain. It was not the first time she entered the Halls of Erebor, but as always, stepping on the floor made of pure gold humbled her. How could she ever get used to living there? All her life she had dreamed of the day the dwarf-lords would return and the streets would be paved with gold and silver would flow from the fountains. But that was all it ever was, a dream. Now that it was about to become reality, she did not know if all those riches were a blessing or a curse.

After walking through long and large hallways, they finally arrived in front of a richly decorated stone door. A large party was waiting there, led by Fíli and his mother Dís. Sigrid could only hold her breath as she saw the young dwarf prince, for it seemed he was glowing in the light of the many oil lamps. His hair shone like polished gold as his clear eyes settled on her. He smiled graciously at her. She tried to smile back but her face was so tense she was sure it must have looked as if she was grimacing. She swallowed hard, trying to relax, remembering what Dís had taught her about the ceremony.

Thorin placed himself at his nephew's side and took his hand. Bard did the same with her. For a moment, her heart sank. She was not ready. How could she live in this place, where no sun shone, with those strange people, so close but so far from her family? She wished the dragon had never woken. She wished the dwarves had never come back. She closed her eyes, praying to find the courage. She felt a heavy silence all around her and opened her eyes to find Fíli right in front of her. Thorin had a large piece of paper in his hands and started to read it, first in Kuzhdul, then in the common tongue. The contract. It seemed to go on endlessly. Sigrid could only look at her feet, afraid to meet Fíli's gaze. She felt as awkward as during their first meeting.

When Thorin was finished, Bard asked the ritual question: "Prince Fíli of Erebor, do you accept my daughter, the lady Sigrid, as your wife, and do you welcome her in your home?"

"In the name of Mahal and of Eru, creator of all things, I, Fíli, Prince of Erebor, of the line of Durin, accept the lady Sigrid, daughter of Bard, Lord of Dale, as my wife and welcome her in my home."

It seemed that she stopped breathing altogether as Bard placed her hand in Fíli's. The young dwarf prince kneeled in acceptance, taking both her hands in his. She suddenly wished she had put some gloves on as she stared at their hands entwined. His were big and sturdy, hard and callused with the use of weapons and tools, as it was to be expected. Hers - she could not look at hers, worn and scarred, her skin ruined with years of dishwashing and laundry-making. They called her a lady, but those were no lady's hands. She dared not remove them but she wished he would release her. He finally stood up but kept her hands in his. That was it. She was about to become his wife. There was no turning back.

A sudden clamour filled the hallway as all the dwarves cheered, clapped their hands and stomped their feet. It seemed to Sigrid as if it came from a distance. She was dizzy now, her head swimming, and the rest of the ceremony happened as if in a dream. They both recited their vows, Fíli in Khuzdul and she in the common tongue, then exchanged rings. Finally, Thorin gave them both a mug of ale to drink. She knew she was expected to drink it all, even if it made her stomach heave. She was familiar with beer, of course, but to down it so fast made her queasy.

When it was done, Fíli wrapped his arm around her and led her inside his halls for the great feast. Her head already buzzing and pounding with the alcohol, she spent the rest of the day wondering when the endless procession of food would end. She could not eat anything. She could only stare coldly at the loud and drunk crowd of dwarves. Several times, she stole glances at her father, as if he could take her away from this dream, but there was nothing he could do.

As the hours passed, she felt even more uneasy. The wedding night was getting nearer. She knew what would be required of her. Dís had explained the importance of having sex, as it would be the only thing that would make the wedding official. It meant that there had to be witnesses and she dreaded that moment. She could not imagine what it would feel like with someone she liked, but this? Forced in front of total strangers? How could her father even agree to that? She grabbed the jug of ale in front of her and poured herself a full pint of it. Maybe if she was drunk, she would not feel a thing. Not the pain of her first time, nor the shame of doing it in public. She downed the pint as fast as she could, feeling the alcohol cloud her mind.

"Maybe we should take our leave" she heard Fíli whisper in her ear.

Not now, she thought, please, not now. But he was already standing up and taking her by the hand. He made his way with her to the other end of the hall, where some stairs led to a beautifully carven door. They were already up the stairs when she heard a roar in the crowd and some raucous laughter. She dimly saw some other dwarves stand up too, but Fíli immediately stopped and bellowed: "Stay down!"

It seemed there was a wave of protest, led by Thorin himself.

"I have sworn to the lord of Dale no one would witness the bedding of his daughter and I will be true to my word" Fíli continued, defying the crowd, and his uncle, not to follow his order.

He certainly did not lack courage, she thought, or authority. She had not expected the events to turn out that way.

He turned to Sigrid, opening the door. "Please, enter, my lady."

She did and he followed right after her, closing the door behind him.

"Thank you, my lord" she said, sighing in relief.

"Please, Sigrid, do not call me my lord in private" he replied, unbuckling his belt and getting rid of his heavy leathers and furs.

She nodded meekly, already removing all her jewels. Now that they were alone, there was nothing for it. Let it be quick, at least. She could see him, in his undertunic, looking at her intently as she fumbled with her dress. Of course, now that he had forbidden anyone to come in, she had no help to undo the ties at the back. It was not supposed to be that way, she remembered. Dís had said she would bring her to bed and prepare her before Fíli arrived. But now, she had to do it all by herself.

"Let me help you with that" he offered, waiting for an answer.

She nodded again and he quickly set up to the task, trying not to graze her skin in the process. She shivered as she felt the dress open and fall at her feet, leaving her standing in her shift.

"Will you promise not to hurt me?" she heard herself whisper.

He turned her so she faced him and took her hands. She looked down at him, wondering why he was hesitating.

"I hope you know I do not intend to force you, Sigrid" he said softly.

She could not believe what she was hearing. He did not want to have sex with her. Was she so disgusting that he was willing to forget his people's traditions? She did not know if she should be hurt or relieved. And what of their marriage? It would be considered official only after they had sex. Would he lie about that? What if someone wanted to make sure they had? Of course, there was no one to witness the lie, but these things always had a way of getting back in the face when you least expected. She was too drunk to really think about the consequences. All she saw was that she would not be compelled to have sex if she did not want to. And gods only knew she did not want to.

"Take the bed" he continued. "I'll sleep on the chair."

He did not even want to sleep with her. But of course, that figured. No one had asked him if he wanted to marry her. He had been civil in public out of duty, just like her. But this was as much a burden for him as it was for her. Still, he did not have to sleep uncomfortably.

"The bed is large" she said. "I don't see why you should sleep elsewhere."

"Believe me, I'd rather not" he replied, rather a bit too fast.

She entered the bed and laid down under the heavy blankets. What was it she had seen in his eyes, she later thought as she felt slumber take her. Was it disgust, or was it fear? But sleep was already taking hold and soon she thought no more.