I had written everything as one monster chapter, but it came off like a patchwork quilt, so I split the chapter in half. You will have your wedding, dear readers, or at least one of your weddings in the next chapter, which will be posted as soon as I tidy up a few sections. In the meantime, enjoy an overabundance of hormones...

Chapter 44

"How did it go?" Bemma asked when Frain returned. "Well by the look on your face."

"Very well," he said, quite pleased at how matters now stood. "Relianna isn't quite there and, to be sure, I'm not either, but he isn't the orc we thought he was."

"That's good."

Her subdued tone caught his attention. "Plum? What is it?"

"Plum?" He bent over to catch her eye, but she turned away. Another move, and she turned her back. Perplexed and dismayed, he stood behind her, not sure what to do. Deciding patience was best, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and waited. When her head lifted, he knew she was ready to speak.

"When are you going back?"

His heart started pounding before his mind understood, but it caught up soon enough, and he turned her to face him. She was solemn and he was alarmed. "You mean when are we going back? You do mean when are we going back, don't you?" Something was terribly wrong, but what could have happened in so short a time? "Bemma?" She hesitated, and his face drained of color. With sickening pang, he felt ill in a way he hadn't ever before. Perhaps she'd reconsidered life with a bleeder. "Did you … have you … changed your mind about us?" She said nothing. "Oh Mahal, please tell me you haven't."

His anguish lifted her eyes, and she tried to edge back, but his grip on her shoulders wouldn't let her. "Please, Plum, for the love of Mahal, tell me what's wrong." Even in his most desperate hour she'd never seen him so upset.

"A friend needed me to run an errand for her," she began. "Deliver a note." She paused and wrung her hands. Catching them, he held them against his lips.

"I'm listening."

"To the dungeons."

His pale face flushed red. "What did she say to you?" he asked in a dreadful voice. She didn't answer. "What did she say to you?" She didn't answer, but the look on her face spoke volumes. He tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his fury. "Bemma, tell me. Please tell me." He had had enough, absolutely enough, and he imagined choking Onkra, although his hands struggled to get a grip on her trunk-like neck.

"She said she knew it was me who'd helped Relianna and that she'd take her revenge, that her people were waiting at Dale. She had a list of her enemies and their families. Mine is on that list, but …"

"But?"

"But you weren't."

She faltered on the last word, and he pulled her into his arms and pressed her face against his chest, holding her head to him. She burst into tears, and he tucked her under his chin.

"No, Bemma, no," he said, "you're not giving me up to keep me off a list. I'm sure I have my own scroll anyway, but it was an empty threat, don't you see? Lord Dain's banished her from the Iron Hills, and he swore to war on her family if any make trouble or step outside their borders, which is far from his lands, if I remember right." Even so, he knew the others needed to know what Onkra had said.

Bemma pressed her palms against her eyes. "I feel so foolish now, but it seemed so real. She's always gotten away with everything, so I thought, oh, I don't know what I was thinking."

He tipped her chin and took her face in his hands. "You were thinking you needed to save me because you love me." She nodded, and her face crumpled, but he closed his eyes and savored the moment. Leaning forward, he kissed her eyelids with infinite gentleness. "My love, my one."

His mouth settled on hers, but this kiss was unlike any before, and it surprised them. Her lips parted, prompting a rush of desire to flood his body. Pulling her up and against him, he groaned, and his hands moved from around her back down to her waist. She shivered, and he dropped lower to nuzzle and nip her neck while she slipped her hands into his hair, tugging and stroking.

"Mahal," he whispered, his glazed eyes taking in the unsteady rise and fall of her chest. Never before had he burned with such desire, such lust for a woman. Oh, there had been times in his youth when someone caught his eye for a time, but his health and nomadic life made attachments impossible, and at some point he acknowledged that love and family weren't for such as him.

"Frain."

He would have stopped then had he his wits about him, but he didn't, and her throaty whisper was his undoing. Bending his head in answer, he pressed kisses on her chest. His blood grew hotter, and one hand fumbled with the laces of her bodice. "More," he panted, "more." After several tugs, the lacing loosened, and he pulled out the bow only to freeze when he heard footsteps coming toward them.

"I think they're back here," Thorin said to Relianna. They rounded the corner to see Frain and Bemma flushed and struggling to arrange their clothes.

"So they are," Relianna said. Thorin looked askance at Frain's wild curls and the hastily tied bow on Bemma's bodice, and his expression changed from shock to smug satisfaction. Justice was sweet.

"So they are," he repeated. "Care to explain yourself, Frain? No?" He folded his arms and faced the taller dwarf who rolled his eyes. That wouldn't do. "Seeing that Bemma has no family here, I must ask then if you've conducted yourself honorably toward her so that your behavior would be acceptable in a public setting." Very sweet indeed.

Frain's lips twisted at Thorin's patronizing smile.

"Very funny," he said turning his head away. He looked over to see Relianna with her fingers pressed against her lips, her laughing eyes a bright green. Little squeaks and snickers escaped between her fingers. "Don't you make it worse."

"I'll never forget the look on your face," she said.

"I hope you would," Frain muttered.

"Perhaps in my dotage," Thorin said.

"That's not far away," Frain groused.

Enjoying his discomfort, Thorin gave him the wisdom of his experience. "Not as easy as you thought, is it? I expect you to look out for her though. Do you understand me?"

"No, it isn't," Frain said. He looked to Bemma, and her shy smile sparked his own, "and I'm glad it isn't. I understand you, Thorin, and I will, but you need to hurry up. When will you wed? We'll give you two days, and then it's our turn."

"Tomorrow," Thorin said, his tone uncompromising. Relianna turned to him aghast.

"Tomorrow? Thorin, I couldn't possibly have everything ready in time. My gown ..."

"Tomorrow, Relianna. You can come to me with the clothes on your back or without them for all I care …."

"Thorin," Frain said with a groan.

"… but we will wed tomorrow."

She looked to argue but stopped and shrugged. "Very well then. We have to go if we're to be ready by then. I'll see you at the feast, my love."

His brows drew together in dismay at her leaving him, but Frain tugged on his arm.

"Let her go. I need to tell you something." Within minutes, they had gathered Dain, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, and lords Kerba and Meldin in a nearby map room. The walls were covered the maps of the mines and diagrams for new excavations. Almost all were new since Smaug had incinerated most and neglect had destroyed the rest.

"Where are they?" Thorin asked, leaning forward with his hands flat on a table.

"In Dale," Frain said.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Kili said. "He could have killed Relianna any time after she entered Onkra's service, so why didn't he?"

Thorin turned to Dain who shrugged. Lord Kerba spoke up from the back.

"Who can say? Perhaps they meant to kill her after Onkra grew tired of her sport. Maybe a murder at Erebor with nobles present was more to their taste. That family has a taste for drama. They didn't account though for Thorin here and the princes getting involved, and they certainly didn't plan for Frain."

"Seems too complicated," Fili said.

"Not for spiders who enjoy watching their victims twist in the web," Dain said bitterly. "Believe me, I know."

"In any case," Thorin said, "I'll alert Lord Bard, and Fili, Kili, and I will head there directly."

"You three shouldn't involve yourself," Kerba said. "You're too well-known and might scare them off." Frain volunteered, but Kerba shook his head.

"Not you either, lad."

"Aye, please son," Dain said, "let someone else take this one," but Frain wouldn't have it.

"She threatened Bemma, and you're asking me to stand down?"

Looks flashed around the room, but no one met his eye. There was no need to explain to Frain that he might get hurt. That he knew too well, but his unwillingness to take that into account worried them. In the end, Thorin made the decision.

"No, I'm telling you to," he said, holding his eyes until the younger dwarf turned away. "That's an order." With an oath, Frain pushed over an easel holding a list of needed repairs and swept a box of maps off the table. Scrolls bounced and rolled around the floor, but the others merely kicked them aside.

"Am I your subject now, Thorin?" he asked with more than a little bitterness. "You're not my king!" Thorin calmly watched him rage but refused to take the bait.

"I'm not going either," he said much to everyone's surprise. "Kerba's right, Frain. We're conspicuous. It sticks in my craw, but he's right.

"Who's going then?" Frain wanted to know. With a wide smile, Lord Meldin turned to his trusty trading partner.

"Fancy a game of rings, Kerba?"

The gaunt lord grinned. "Best of two out of three?"

"Five out of seven. I need a little time to warm up."

"After you, my dear Meldin."

With nothing else to do for the time being, Thorin and the others prepared for the wedding, but with less joy and more apprehension.

"Don't worry, Thorin," Balin said with a pat on his back. "I'm sure it's nothing, and if it is they'll take care of it soon enough."

Thorin nodded without enthusiasm and arched his back, trying to ease the strain of the day while reminding himself that Relianna would be his tomorrow. He could bear anything as long as that would come true. Only a few pieces remained on the board, only two really, the king and his queen.

When, not if.

"Yes, they will," he replied with effort, forcing himself to believe the best. This short span of time had tested him, tried him, and both taken and given more than he could have ever imagined. Only weeks really, and worlds had changed, and for more than himself. Turning aside, he squeezed Balin's shoulder and walked away.

"Poor lad," Balin said to his brother, "this has been a trial for sure, but he's bearing up well." Dwalin nodded, thinking it fortunate he'd escaped the snares of matrimony.

"He should have wed her weeks ago."

In another part of Erebor, the ladies were back at the wardrobe.

"What should I wear?"

"I think you should take King Thorin's suggestion and go naked," Plumma said. "It'll be a wedding no one will forget."

After a gale of giggles, the womenfolk sorted through more robes and gowns left behind, hoping to find something they had missed. Furla opened a trunk in the back of the room and squealed.

"This is perfect!" She pulled out a white gown embroidered with gold. The neckline was indecently low, but a little trim or lace would fill in the deep v-neck.

"Lady Wogren's," Derlig said with a sniff. "Has to be."

Within the hour, bells on every floor rung the news of King Thorin's wedding, and runners were sent to outlying areas. The dwarves took the news respectfully if not all cheerfully. She had won their admiration, but not their love, not yet. Thorin heard the bells ring, closed his eyes, and smiled, marking one more step to the realization of his dreams.

Not now but soon.

While everyone at Erebor scurried to prepare, Kerba and Meldin made their way down the main street in Dale and met up with Lord Bard at the inn. They looked around and saw no sign anything was wrong.

"They're in a storage room," Bard said, "but they hardly look as menacing as King Thorin described." His mustache quirked, and his eyes twinkled. "More like a few stowaways. No one else. We checked. All's quiet here and on the road." The door swung open to show five dwarves roaring drunk. They wore the livery of the Iron Hills, but it was obvious to those at the door they were no threat.

"When we's, when we's gets called to Ereba … Orobor … Erb," said one hoisting a pint, "we'll find King Thorn and ask for aslum." The others swayed in their seats and cheered.

"Don't wanna work fer that sow … that cow … that …"

"… both right."

"… no more. Mean she is. Poor Beladonna. Poor Bems." The dwarf looked down on his almost empty mug and sighed. "We be cowards, lads. Shoulda helped."

"Scared," another one said. "'Member Soldrin? Dead, he is." They looked in their mugs, tipped the last, and guzzled it down. One by one, they fell off their crates to the floor. Kerba closed the door.

"Ready to lose, Meldin?"

"Well?" Thorin said after they had returned.

"False alarm, Thorin," Lord Kerba said. He shared a look with Meldin whose belly jiggled. "Just the last of Onkra's servants who'd taken refuge in the back of the pub. Oh, and be ready to accept five more—right, Meldin, five? Yes, five more requests for aslum as they put it."

Thorin struggled to be convinced. With an understanding smile, Meldin poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to him on the table, but Thorin fingered the glass and kept looking between them, expecting a hesitation heralding more trouble.

"Drink up, it's done," Kerba said. "It's over." Perhaps it was yet Thorin hardly knew how to escape its shadow. Fortunately, the others did.

"It's time to celebrate the our victory, Thorin," Meldin said. "We heard your sister-sons cleared the training rings."

Thanks to Fili and Kili, the menfolk spend their time sword-fighting, ax-swinging, and generally relieving remaining tension. Frain and Kili enjoyed some target practice and friendly competition while Thorin and Dwalin joked in between swings of their axes.

"Does my heart good, Kerba," Meldin said. "He had me worried there." They watched Thorin drop his guard just enough for Dwalin to land a solid hit.

"Mind on your lass, is it?" Dwalin shouted. "By Erebor, I'll land a pretty slash on your cheek if you don't concentrate, and what will she think then?"

Thorin shook himself and jumped back into position.

"Me too," Kerba said with a fond glance at his new nephew.

After a relaxing afternoon, the menfolk met up with the womenfolk at the feast, and sparks flew in all directions, setting various fires that elder statesmen tried to contain. Thorin presented a restrained and elegant presence, presiding over the proceedings with dignity and good humor, but in truth his hands itched to stroke Relianna's thigh and the nape of her neck. Her fresh flower perfume wound around him, intoxicating him to the point that he refused strong drink to keep his head. Determined to set a good example, he restricted his gaze to above her neck, knowing that the excited rise and fall of her chest would draw his eye irresistibly. Periodically, he looked to his right and gave silent warning to Frain who rubbed Bemma's shoulders and back with enthusiasm. From her periodic blushes, he was sure Frain was rubbing her leg with his foot as well. The maids flirted outrageously, and the princes and other invited dwarves thoroughly enjoyed it. Bofur swung Clea around to a jaunty tune while Dori discussed the merits of aged cheese with Derlig. Over in a quieter corner, Lady Carba carried on an intense discussion with a handsome senior librarian, while Lady Ariella looked on with wide eyes and a napkin pressed against her mouth.

"C'mon, Kerba," Lord Meldin said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "We need to rescue Fili again."

Determined to personally share in Bemma's good fortune, Plumma had brought some love aids to the feast or at least something to keep Fili half-dressed and in a bed for at least a week with stomach cramps. Looking to see if anyone was watching, she poured a drop of her bottle into his ale. Kerba groaned, but before they could reach him, Nori leaned over and grabbed his tankard, looking for more since he'd drained his own.

"I wonder how that's going to play out," Meldin said with a stroke of his beard. "Serves him right though."

"Could be fate, Meldin," Lord Kerba said. "They are two of a kind."

Over in another corner, Kili was dancing with several women at once. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his cheerful smile was a bit forced, but they left him to it.

"No point interrupting that, eh?"

"No," Kerba said, stretching his neck to take in the scene. "He can escape if he wants to, so we'll move on."

"How 'bout your daughter?"

Lord Kerba looked over, and a small smile crept over his face. "He's already asked my permission to court her."

"No!" Meldin said looking pleased. "Congratulations. He's a fine dwarf. Knew his father. Honorable kin. Aye, your family's gotten much larger since you've come, Kerba. Never thought so much good would come out of Thorin's predicament." They looked over to the head table where Thorin watched Relianna laugh with Bemma. She didn't see his warm smile or grateful light in his eyes.

"All's well that end's well," Lord Meldin said with a nod. "Uh oh."

"What?"

"Fili's in trouble again."

Thorin laced Relianna's fingers with his and pressed a tender kiss.

"I can't wait."

"Me neither."

"Tomorrow morning then."

She hesitated before shaking her head. As eager as she was, she also wanted the wedding to be perfect, and plans weren't complete.

"I need until tomorrow night, Thorin, please. Will you give me that?"

He was disappointed but nodded. "Before the feast then. I suppose it's only right. Lord Bard will be coming with a few from his council, and we need to welcome them properly."

That was a new thought for her, and her face fell at the thought of politics at their wedding—the last thing she wanted. Her notions of an intimate wedding had already been adjusted to include the mountain's population, but having heads of state was too much. Thorin understood her perfectly.

"Lord Bard is a good trading partner," he said. "It would be rude not to invite him, but I sent a message to King Thranduil outlining the need to keep things contained. As for those other noble-borns, good riddance."

The glow of good tidings continued throughout the evening and after feasting fully, the merry gathering readied to retire. Thorin made arrangements for Frain and Bemma to join him and Relianna in the family wing. The ladies had separate chambers and were strictly instructed to stay there with the door bolted until morning.

"I'll be just around the corner, Thorin," Frain said with a stern look that Thorin matched with his own.

"So will I, Frain, so will I."

Despite the warning, Relianna slipped out in the halls in a her day dress, looking for a place to rest her mind. All was quiet in the middle of the night, and her light steps were hardly heard. Thorin had mentioned something about a balcony that high up on the mountain, a small one that overlooked the valley. With so much happening and more still to do, she hadn't been outside in some time and missed it. Door by door, she put her hand on the cracks to see if she could feel anything different. A light waft of air blew against her hand from a narrow door, and she smiled as she pulled it open.

She stepped out the see the lights of Dale winking in the distance and looked lower to see the torches lining the way to Erebor's main gate. All was quiet except a light breeze and occasional bird call from down in the valley. Her hair streamed behind her, and she caught the tendrils that blew in her face, twisting them back and tossing them over her shoulder. The door opened again, and someone else stepped out.

"You should be in your chambers behind a bolt ..."

She whipped around.

" ... sweetheart."

To Our Most Noble Reader,

King Thorin Oakenshield, Lord of Erebor, and Lady Relianna Durin, Crown Princess of the Iron Hills, request the pleasure of your company as they pledge their troth before witnesses. The wedding will take place tomorrow evening in the Hall of Audiences with a reception to follow. Court dress is required. Please respond via raven, messenger, or review. We look forward to your arrival. Please let us know if you intend to stay after the ceremony, so we can prepare accommodations. In lieu of gifts, we request that you sign the guestbook with personal wishes for our king and his lady.

Sincerely,

Lord Balin,

Son of Fundin