Note: I hope this makes up for any emotional scarring caused by the last chapter. Though ye might get cavities, ye be warned!

In which Fíli Is Smug

Warm, golden flickers of flames in a fireplace. Incredibly soft sheets surrounding her. Sigrid smiled to herself as she slowly opened her eyes. Waking up in a bed like this was better than any dream. It felt like lying on a cloud. After rubbing her eyes, she contentedly looked around the room instead of getting up. A high ceiling of light stone was illuminated by candles flickering in tinted glass lanterns, lending a cosy atmosphere to Sigrid's lazy morning. Two ridiculously soft cushioned chairs were placed around a carved table holding crystal glasses, a carafe and a plate with fruits and sweet cakes.

Feeling very hungry all of the sudden, Sigrid reluctantly crawled out of the covers, shivering slightly as her body got used to the slightly cooler air. Although it really couldn't be said that it was cold, Sigrid thought appreciatively, the fire was still giving off heat, somehow. She would have to ask how they did that.

Popping a few grapes in her mouth, she decided to wash since she already was up. Opening the door to the adjoining bathroom, she couldn't help but smile and shake her head a little. An entire room just for washing.

In Laketown, they had had a toilet and a drain for the used water, but washing was still done out of a jug and a bowl. Here, a large basin that could be filled with water dominated the room. Colourful flasks were lined in a shelf together with soft towels, and there were even dried flowers that gave off a nice fragrance.

It was as close to decadent as Sigrid had been her entire life. To her own surprise, she didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. It was all already here, and she had expressively been told that it was there for her use. Sigrid felt very blessed and she took a moment to thank the Valar from the bottom of her heart.

Something like this had never happened in even her wildest dreams, where Da had finally gotten the recognition he deserved, and maybe even a woman he could smile at again, and they had all had enough food, even growing Bain, enough to even have leftovers… And here she was, using soap that smelt of summer meadow and something more rich and elegant that made Sigrid feel very distinguished.

She snorted.

Getting used to being called a Lady was still something she battled with, in her own mind she was still very much the bargeman's daughter. But in here, with all this surrounding her in a way that felt almost natural, because it was meant for her, and no one else was going to use it, she almost felt like she could be a real Lady. That she was.

According to a certain someone she had been even when her ancestor's title and city had still been lost.

Sigrid smiled at the thought of how his blue eyes had shone with sincerity when he had said that. That was what she was most grateful for. That this man with blue eyes and easy smile, with his roaring heart and strength and nobility would look at her and see a Lady. See someone worth of giving his heart to.

Happiness rushed through her and she couldn't stop smiling as she wrapped herself in a towel and went back to the bedroom, looking for something to wear. In a heavy wardrobe carved in a way complementing the rest of the furniture, she found her usual dresses joined by some new ones. Raising her eyebrows, Sigrid carefully let the material slip through her fingers. It was milky and shimmery and felt like water softly running down one's skin on a spring day.

It was a ridiculous waste of money, her dresses would still be perfectly wearable for years. But she knew that the second she brought it up to the culprit, he would just get that look that said he hoped he had gotten her taste right, and when she tried to protest, albeit weakly because she couldn't resist that look and he knew it, he would drag her to the treasure chambers and tell her to not be so stubborn. He could afford a few knick-knacks without endangering the wealth of his people.

With a fond smile and a bit of an eye roll she took out one of the first dresses she had gotten after the rebuilding of Dale had started. Her father had given it to her on her birthday, something special he had always wanted to give her, and she liked thinking of laughing and dancing in it until she was out of breath.

Sigrid slipped into the soft fabric and the daily battle with the laces began. Her simpler dresses had buttons at the front, but the fact that someone had thought it a good idea to invent dresses with laces at the back was something she struggled with.

"And what do you think you're doing?" She looked over her shoulder and smiled at the tousled blonde head peeking out from the covers. A blush spread over her face as she remembered that she'd had quite her part in the tousling.

"Getting ready for the day."

Her fingers finally found the laces and she began to pull them up.

"Here, let me help you with that." His voice was still dark from sleep, but she found she didn't mind a bit. Warm, rough fingers gently pushed hers aside to pull at the thin material. Sigrid found her face getting even warmer at the intimacy and smiled. She could get used to that. Except he was pulling in the wrong direction.

"Fíli, wait! You're opening it."

"I know," his voice was entirely unapologetic and way too smug for her liking.

"What?" She jerked away and turned around, but he was still holding the laces in his hand. "I'm trying to get dressed, in case you didn't notice."

"And I'm trying to prevent that." His smile was roguish as he winked. Sigrid narrowed her eyes at him.

"Well, I'm not walking around naked."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind," his eyes were positively gleaming. The fact that he was lazily sitting on the bed did make very clear how much exactly he wouldn't. She had the urge to smack him and fought against a horrid blush at the same time.

"Maybe you wouldn't but I'm sure other people might object."

"Other people?" The look of genuine confusion on his face made him look every bit like Kíli's brother, despite all their outer differences. Funny that even with piercing blue eyes a puppy look was entirely possible, Sigrid mused.

"We're not seeing other people, Sigrid."

"Apart from the people who, oh, I don't know, make up the entire population of Erebor?" she gesticulated to the door. Much to her surprise and even a bit wounded pride, the blonde dwarf began to laugh. After a few moments he caught the look on Sigrid's face though and stopped abruptly.

"Oh no, please, I don't mean any harm, my sweetheart." Fíli said softly, his lips still quirked up. "It's just- we're on our Mithrilian Fortnight."

"So I was told. A period of time for the couple to get used to living with each other after the wedding," she recited, with just hint of sharpness in her voice. Sigrid had the nearly infinite amount of patience that came with being an older sister with responsibilities, but she did not take it very well when she was laughed at for no reason. "Sometimes a travel might be involved, but given your duties as Crown Prince that would have been unrealistic, so we stayed in Erebor, in case you were needed."

Fíli just looked at her for a few moments, then some kind of epiphany seemed to hit him.

"They didn't tell you."

While whatever Sigrid had been neglected to be told seemed to amuse him to no end, if the quivering of his moustache was any indication, it also sent a deep blush over his face. Sigrid felt slightly vindicated that she wasn't the only one who had been embarrassed and uncrossed her arms. "And what, exactly, did they not tell me?" she inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Ah, well," he cleared his throat and sat up with as much dignity a dwarf in only his night pants could muster. Sigrid found herself momentarily distracted by how the light in the room cast shadows over him in a way that accented his clear-cut muscles very well. One lamp in particular reflected on his shoulder, giving his skin a warm glow and highlighting the golden hair on his chest that led downwards to his stomach muscles and the sharp hip bones and–

She snapped her eyes up, hoping he hadn't noticed. The amused and decidedly proud look he gave her indicated otherwise. In a show of uncharacteristic wisdom Fíli however didn't tease the already irritated woman, though he seemed strangely fond of doing so on other occasions. Instead, he set to explain what had caused her to become irritated in the first place (no thanks to him).

"The Mithrilian Fortnight is not just to get used to each other as a married couple. I mean we have years of a day-to-day-life to do that." He smiled softly at her. "Can't wait for that, actually."

Feeling her irritation melt at that, Sigrid found herself smiling back. An idiot he might be, but he was very much her idiot and he made sure to remember her at every occasion.

"But the Mithrilian Fortnight is actually called that because it is a time of focusing entirely on the couple, no routine, no duties, if possible. As far as everyone outside that door is concerned, we don't exist."

Sigrid tilted her head in thought. "That's an interesting tradition, Odd, but interesting." Her brows furrowed after a moment. "Why is it called Mithril, though? I mean, we're not exactly being productive while we're here?" One of the first things she had learnt about dwarven culture was the high regard they had for hard work. Everyone who didn't flinch away from getting their hands dirty had it quite a bit easier at winning their respect. So being inactive and likening it to the most precious metal known to, well, everyone, was a bit confusing.

"Who said we're not?" That roguish smile was back on Fíli's face and Sigrid felt her stomach lurch. "You know that finding love is considered the highest gift, even above jewels and precious metals, right?" He paused until she nodded. "So we celebrate it as good as we can."

"I noticed," she said dryly, "I'm still surprised Bilbo kept up with all of your brother's drinking for three days straight."

He slipped closer to the edge of the bed on his knees, eye to eye with her. "So the wedding celebration already was quite long for human standards, at least the one's of Laketown. And our courting period of three years and three days was long, too."

"Very long," she agreed softly, not looking away from his warm smile. "I'm glad you agree," he grinned. His hands slipped under hers, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

"So, with everything being drawn out and celebrated as much as possible, wouldn't it make sense to," he cleared his throat, "Wouldn't it make sense to draw out the time of one wedding night to a fortnight."

Sigrid blinked.

Then she blinked again.

Silence descended upon the room.

Fíli observed her carefully as he waited for her to react. And he waited. And waited.

"Sigrid?" He whispered finally, carefully poking her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head and focused on him again. "Sure. Yes. I was just…" she blushed and cleared her throat.

His eyebrows climbed so high Sigrid thought they would hit his hairline. "My, my, Princess Sigrid," he whistled. The title made her realise how very much they were in fact married, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or to smack him. She had a suspicion it wouldn't be the last time.

"Your mind wouldn't have gone wandering off to any particular activities?" She blushed and tried to get away from him, but he was quicker. Without any effort his arm shot out, circled her waist and he fell back on the bed with enough momentum to knock some breath out of her.

"Fíli, you-" She struggled to get away from him, but his arm didn't budge.

"Yes, I what?"

He unceremoniously chucked her off him and had her trapped under his arm in a flash, ignoring her protesting squeak.

She glared at him, still trying to get her breathing under control. "You, you-" Her train of thought was interrupted by his hand tracing her arm up to her shoulder.

"Yes?"

His rough hands held her face and slipped into her hair, tugging her closer. She looked at the way his hair sprawled over his broad shoulders, how his lips curled into an infuriatingly smug grin, how his eyes glinted when they dipped down to her lips-

"You 're an ass," she stated dryly, and before he could react, she kissed him.

Fíli might have been stronger, but Sigrid knew how to have the last word.

Notes: Personally I think Bilbo was lucky he didn't have to keep up with Dwalin or Bombur drinking. Can you imagine? Kíli is quite the light weight in my mind, though he probably wouldn't appreciate that… He won anyways, so that can't be held against me.

Also, the reason Sigrid didn't know that little detail didn't really fit into the story, so I'll explain here:

I imagined that one of the dwarven wedding preparations would have been to have a sort of "the talk" with the bride. Bard would have tried (without knowing about the Fortnight, he would find out much, much later, much to Fíli's horror and Kíli's amusement) but been cut off with an embarrassed "Seriously, Da, it's alright" because she had heard enough from all the girls in Laketown.

And the dwarven lady who helped her prepare for the traditional stuff might not have mentioned it because Sigrid seemed quite calm and assured about it all… Or because maybe Kíli might have said she already knew about the finer details. Maybe. He might snort into his porridge the first time he sees the happily married couple again, and everyone is left wondering why the happy new husband so clumsily dropped tea in his brother's lap… Ah yes, happy families.