A/N: If you google "lotr dwarf wedding", the very first link is where I got the info for dwarven weddings, and that link also links to a site with the info for elvish weddings, so. Yeah.

"I think this is going to hold the record for the strangest wedding I've ever attended."

"There was an attempted murder at yours."

"Even so! I'd say that this situation is far more complex than that." Bilbo paced in front of the dragon, who was lying on the now-polished golden floor of the Gallery of the Kings. Thorin had chosen to leave it where it had solidified. The only alterations made were the smoothing and polishing of the floor to a high shine.

The hobbit stopped and examined his reflection in the floor, and decided that even though the dwarven clothing had been tailored to his smaller frame, he still looked ridiculous. It was obviously dwarven clothing, and he was obviously not a dwarf. Beautiful though it was, it felt awkward compared to what he usually wore.

But he was part of the wedding party, and so he had to be appropriately attired. He folded his arms with a little difficulty and said, "I'm still not sure how this happened. I think I was tricked somehow."

Smaug started chuckling. Bilbo glared at him, making him chuckle harder. "You helped save the Kingdom of Erebor," he rumbled, "and you are Tauriel's friend. Of course they're going to want you to be part of this."

"And how did you get out of this?"

"I didn't," the dragon hummed, "She asked me to carry her and her wedding party from Mirkwood. Some of Ungoliant's brood still prowl through the forest. The elves can take care of themselves, of course, but no one wanted to take any chances."

Bilbo huffed a little. "I can't believe Thorin approved of this."

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Smaug said, amused, "You were in Dale at the time, but he had a screaming row with Dís when she told him what they intended. I couldn't understand their words because they spoke in Khuzdul, but the halls rang with their anger. He almost didn't allow it."

The hobbit opened his mouth to comment, but was interrupted by footsteps, heavy and dwarven. It was Thorin, dressed in all his kingly finery for the upcoming ceremony. He nodded to them, then said, "We're ready."

Smaug heaved himself to his feet and padded from the hall, walking slowly enough that the hobbit could keep up at a fast walk. Thorin fell in beside them as they walked through the main gate.

Beyond, there was a great crowd gathered – dwarves of the Iron Hills and Blue Mountains, men and women of Dale, even a few elves of Mirkwood and representatives from Rivendell and Lothlórien. They formed a wide circle around Smaug's new harness. The first had been cobbled together when he'd requested it, so he could fly Bilbo to Mordor, but the second had been crafted by skilled leatherworkers and blacksmiths, and allowed him to do and carry much more.

The massive dragon laid down over it, and allowed the nimblest of dwarves and men to scurry over him, strapping him in. When they hopped down and he got back up, cheers erupted through the crowd. Though he had laid low their ancestors – and burned Laketown – more prominent in their minds was the wall of fire protecting Dale, entire divisions of orcs burning, the sight of him yanking one of Azog's wereworms out of the ground when it threatened to mow through Dale, roaring and blasting fire down its throat.

He'd been helpful in other ways, too, hunting for the people of Dale and Erebor during that first hard winter, transporting stone from quarries for repairs, but that all was more at Bilbo's request than any active desire to help. He was still a dragon. He'd also told them that they didn't have to thank him for what he did, because they didn't matter to him and so, while appreciated, their thanks were not necessary. The only people he was really concerned with pleasing were Bilbo, Bard, Tauriel, and Thranduil, and Bilbo most of all. Everyone had quickly learned that to get the dragon's help, it was best to talk to the hobbit first.

Smaug leaped into the sky, wings beating fiercely, then he banked away toward Mirkwood and Thranduil's halls. Bilbo went in search of Dís, Thorin's sister.

The hobbit found the dwarven princess overseeing the finishing touches on the chambers for the soon-to-be newlyweds. The grooms were running around in a panic, but she was as calm as could be, instructing the servants to put that vase of flowers there, and that bowl of water and lilies there, and adjust the filmy white drapes so that they fell just so. She spotted him hovering but the door and said, "Ah, Master Baggins! Come in, come in. What do you think?"

He looked around. The room had an unmistakably dwarven base, but the elven accents being arranged throughout the room managed to create a pleasing melding of cultures rather than a mismatched mishmash. "I think it's wonderful."

Dís nodded in approval at his words. "Good. So tell me, what brings you here?"

"Smaug told me that you were the one who convinced Thorin to allow this."

Her brow creased a little at the dragon's name, as it likely always would, but then she snorted. "'Allow' is a bit of a strong word," she said wryly, "'Allowing' implies at least a little approval. 'Convinced him to tolerate it' would be more accurate. My brother is stubborn as stone, but there comes a point when even he will bow to greater wisdom. And a bit of brawling."

"He said you had quite the row, but not that there was any fighting involved."

"Oh, there's always fighting when we disagree," she laughed, waving a hand dismissively, "Nothing serious, of course, although I did break his arm once."

"You'd think he would have learned after that."

"Ha! My brother never learns, but he can be persuaded to relent."

"And you – approve of this?"

"I do, and while I can't say I understand entirely, I know my sons' hearts. You heard how it happened?" When he shook his head, she said, "Ah, well, it seems that both Fíli and Kíli had fallen in love with the she-elf Tauriel, although for different reasons in the beginning. But like the strange brothers they are, each wanted to give up his claim to her heart, so the other could be happy. I sent for her to choose between them and settle the matter, but they were still arguing when she arrived. She must have gotten the gist of it, because she swept their heads together and then kissed them both." Dís grinned widely. "Never thought I'd see the day, but she's an Elf after my own heart."

That made Bilbo smile. Maybe it was Middle-earth, maybe it was Thranduil, maybe it was her time and experience, but Molly had become a lot stronger when she became Tauriel, both physically and personally. It suited her, and he was glad for her.

The faintest echoes of a distant roar reached them, Smaug announcing that he was on his way back.

"Well," said Dís to the room at large, "shall we go and greet the bridal party?"

The ceremony itself was a well-ordered combination of elven and dwarven traditions, with Thorin reading their marriage contract aloud (in Westron, of course) and Thranduil standing in for Tauriel's parents to bless the union in the sight of Manwë and Varda, and also Aulë – Mahal – for the dwarves.

As the ceremony was winding to a close, the feasting about to begin, there was the cry of a hawk from beyond the mountain's gates, strangely resonant and commanding attention. A pure white eagle soared into Erebor, silver motes of light trailing from its wings. It flew a wide circle around the dais where the bride and grooms stood, then dropped a velvet pouch into Thorin's hands and flew back out again. Everyone watched it go, then turned back to the dwarf king, who opened the pouch.

Inside were three smooth gold wedding bands with the smallest of faceted diamonds scattered around the outside, twinkling like stars, too finely crafted to have been made by anyone but the Great Smith himself, and delivered by one of the Eagles of Manwë. Thorin sighed, relenting at last, and offered the rings up.

One by one, they were placed on the proper fingers, and when their hands were held up for all to see and witness the union, the halls of Erebor rang with thunderous applause.

The feasting that followed promised to last much longer than the usual week. Bilbo socialized for a time, meeting more people then than the entire rest of the time he'd spent in the mountain. But eventually he grew tired and went to find Smaug, knowing that wherever he was there was bound to be relative quiet.

The dragon was in his human form on a balcony high above the party, a shadow limned in torchlight, not part of the festivities but close enough to observe all that was happening. Bilbo settled down next to him on the bench, and started to drift off almost immediately. Just as he fell completely asleep, he felt a warm scaled arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him close.