Evangeline was almost more frightened of the memories than she was curious about them. In her adult life (or in the last seven years or so, at least), she had not looked at nor thought of the trunk which now sat before her. Its lock was dusty, proof that Marigold had not touched it for longer still. There were things she knew were inside it (letters, objects, weapons, talismans), and there were things inside of which she knew nothing. Her father used to pull out different surprises from time to time and explain them to her, but she had never been allowed to rummage through on her own. She would never forget the single time she had tried to – a very young Evie had stolen the key out of her father's pocket while he was napping one dull winter afternoon, when it was too cold to go out and play and too quiet in their hole to keep her occupied. Fellin had caught her just as the halfling had popped the lid and was trying to lift the heavy thing up so she could get a good peek. The look in his eyes of sour disappointment still haunted her years and years later. He did not yell; he did not punish her – that was not his way. But he demonstrated to the girl clearly enough that what she had done was wrong and that she had violated his trust. And so she vowed that day never to do so again.

Opening it now, even though she was allowed to, still seemed a crime. She fit the key her mother had given her into the lock and closed her eyes as she turned it, hearing the heavy click of the bolt sliding across the latch. A corresponding beat filled her heart as it pounded in her chest. She knew this was a collection of her family's traveling treasures, and that it was nothing to be so anxious about, but all the same after years of knowing it was forbidden she felt both giddily eager to know what it contained and horrifyingly guilty about the whole affair.

First there were the weapons. A sword belonging to her father, an axe she had never seen before, and a small collection of daggers, a few of which had jeweled hilts which her fingers slid over in awe. There was also her wooden sword which she had learned to fight with out in the forests with her father, just as her mother had remembered. Most surprisingly there was a small bag of gold and a swath of velvety material which Evie unwrapped until three large stones fell out and into her hand. Two rubies and an emerald, by the looks of it, although the hobbit was not so familiar with gems. She held one up to the light, shocked by its color and the facets carved along its oval length. Where had her father found these? Or had they been from her grandfather? There were many papers at the bottom of the trunk, and although she did not read them all she skimmed enough to recognize that they were love letters between her father and her mother. That was not her business and she left most of them unrifled through… Underneath were more letters, this time between her grandparents. At the very bottom, tucked under a golden paperweight with a bear's head etched onto it was the letter. The last her grandfather had written, right before his death. The one which had come with the opal necklace she still wore around her neck. She took it out and read it again. The last time it had been read to her by her father from his chair, just over in the corner of the sitting room where she was now standing, near the fireplace. Her heart ached at the memory, and even more at Grandfather Took's words.

Of all the tales I have heard of the dwarves and their treasures, for ill or grand, Erebor is beyond my every imagining.

She shivered, lost for a moment. In her father's round voice as he read to her of the grandeur of Erebor, in Thorin's deep tenor and the nostalgia which wavered in it when he spoke of the great fortress, in the many sounds of the dwarves she had met at the market in Ered Luin who told her stories of their lives as they had been before the dragon's attack and of their new hope at rebuilding them the best they could…

Evangeline didn't hear her mother come up behind her and jumped when she felt a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Is that..?"

The healer nodded, folding the paper back up again and replacing it in the trunk. She surveyed the rest of the treasures, wondering what it was to collect things from all around Middle Earth and to bring them home, but to realize all the while that they were only things. Memories. Full of meaning but hollow of life. Both hobbits were silent for a moment, before Marigold turned to face her daughter and look her in the eyes with one of those maternal stares which goes straight to the core.

"I know why you want to marry Thorin, anyone who has seen you two together cannot argue with your reasons, as much as any of us may want to. I have no doubt you would make each other happy. But tell me, why do you want to be queen?"

Evie sighed, pushing a blonde curl away from her face. Her mouth twisted as her lips pursed, demonstrating clearly enough the thought the hobbit was putting into answering such an important question.

"I don't…" She answered, finally. "I don't believe I deserve to be. Durin's Folk need someone to care for them, to guide them forward into a new life and to help cleanse the hard memories of their old ones. To bring everyone together and to begin to create something.. something normal. Festivals, markets, feasts… The dwarves love merrymaking but they seem to have little chance to do so. With the settlements of Ered Luin becoming stronger every day, there is no reason not to celebrate more often. But Thorin will not think of that, of course, because he is always so focused on what needs to be done and on making whatever sacrifices he can for his people, he will not think to make cause for celebration. Dis would, perhaps, and I would guess that she is the only reason there have been any festivals before." She was speaking without thinking, her words tumbling over one another as she considered the new truth in them.

"But these people need joy in their lives. They need healing. They have experienced so much suffering and I have no right to decide what is best for them… I am unworthy of them, of all of them."

Marigold smiled, moving her hand down to Evie's and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"That, my darling daughter, is exactly why you will make a fine queen."

It was just then that they heard a careful rapping on the door, which startled both unsuspecting hobbits. Marigold went to see who it was, since she had often been bothered by many of her neighbors over the last few weeks due to the news of her daughter's wedding (everyone wanted the freshest piece of gossip and so Mary had become all her neighbors' closest friend and finest source of sugar, flour, berries, or whatever other hollow excuse they could find to come knocking on her round yellow door).

"Oh!"

She heard her mother exclaim from the hallway, and Evie quickly tucked everything back inside the chest and locked it before following the other hobbit into the entryway.

"I believe it's for you, Evangeline."

She heard as she was rounding the corner, and the healer was even more surprised than her mother had been to see a dwarf at the door. Especially this particular dwarf.

"Fildur, son of Filir, at your service."

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It was a warm, sunny day in the Shire. The birds sang their merry melodies from the trees above, flashes of color amongst the brilliant greens and browns of the forest roof. They hopped from branch to branch, sharing stories of their own uncomplicated days, of their families, even working songs as they found twigs to reinforce their nests or worms to feed their young. Evie had always enjoyed the sound of them, going about their business and living out their simple lives. It was the song of the Shire, for the hobbits sang it as well – of the calm, passive life of quiet places undisturbed by great battles or fearful enemies. She treasured them, but they would never be hers. All peaceful, beautiful things had to be defended, she supposed, and for the Shire to thrive undisturbed others had to face the dark forces which inhabited other parts of the world. The goblins, the orcs, the Harad… They were only some of the threats Middle Earth faced every day, yet Eriador felt so removed from them. To imagine a goblin snarling through the forests of Green Hill Country seemed more ridiculous than, well, than a hobbit at the Battle of Azanulbizar. But perhaps one had to happen to prevent the other, or else she liked to think so. Someone had to keep the darkness at bay, and while she did not think she was so very involved in such things, she knew there were those out there who fought for themselves, their families, and, whether they knew it or not, for the Shire. It was why she had left home in the first place; that and an insatiable curiosity to know what it was that lay beyond Bree and even the Loudwater, that last bastion of Eriador.

And now she did – she had seen the grandness of Gondor and the humble strength of Edoras, the kindness of Elrond's people and the bravery of the rangers. Middle Earth was no longer a mystery to her, and now that she knew what was beyond the modest hobbit hole she had grown up in, she could fully appraise just what it was the healer wanted for herself, what piece of that vast world she could dream up as her own. She had her own song to sing, and the tune was becoming clearer every day.

Fildur walked beside her, admiring the lush greenery around them with wide eyes – for him this was the part of Middle Earth he had never seen, the new and unknown. It amused her to think of the Shire as an unfamiliar place, but for the dwarves it was. Fildur was amazed by the hobbits: their robust gardens and their enormous pumpkins, the variety of foods and sweet things they were able to grow in the fertile soils of the Shire and the cleanliness of their little homes. It was fascinating for the dwarf, who had traveled just as many of his kind had through the lands of men but had never before seen a hobbit hole, or even a hobbit for that matter (before he had met Evie, of course).

But they were not here to explore the Shire… At least, Evangeline guessed that they were not.

"Why are you here? Not that I am unhappy to have you visiting, of course it is a pleasure to welcome you to Tookbank, but I certainly was not expecting to see you here…"

Evie explained, trying not to sound impolite. Fildur smiled, brushing off her confusion as if it was air.

"I came to talk to you."

It was such a direct response; the halfling was almost taken aback by it.

"We could have talked at Ered Luin –"

She started, but he argued, "Yes, but I thought it would be better to do so here. Away from… everything. It's why you came back, is it not? To escape for a little while? To think, away from the eyes of all Ered Luin upon you?"

Evie gulped, unsure of how to reply.

"They're not all what you think – some, like Belinir, are just waiting for you to make a mistake so they can hang you out to dry like yesterday's washing, but many think very highly of you, Miss Evie Took. Many are excited to see Thorin getting married, to have a queen again. We have not had one in a very long time, and although Dis does her part the best she can, it is not quite the same. Thorin is well loved by our people, he has led us towards a brighter future than we ever could have imagined in the dark days after Erebor was lost, and there are many who are very pleased to see him find a wife, even if she is a foreigner."

He made it clear he was teasing her with the ending of his speech, although there was deep truth in his words. She breathed in, her fear as great as her relief.

"Many… Yet there are more than a few who would be embarrassed to call me queen, and who would rather see their king unburdened."

"Well, those people are selfish and unworthy of him." Fildur retorted immediately, and Evie couldn't help but give him a weary but grateful smile. "You, on the other hand, are more wonderful than any of us ever could have imagined. Dis always used to talk about how she worried for him, that he was always so alone… But when we heard about you, when she found out about the letters you were sending to each other… It was a bright day indeed. You are every inch as kind and good hearted as we had hoped, and we could not wish for a better queen."

Evie bit her lip, trying to stifle the cry which threatened to break through. She could not express what his words meant to her, her profound appreciation for the support of her possible brother-in-law when she needed it most…

"You left so abruptly… But I knew you weren't running away," He continued, grinning encouragingly out of the corner of his mouth, "you're not the type."

In all reality, he hadn't been sure. He had almost done the same thing, a year ago – under the pressure of Belinir and the public scorn directed at him for his secret courtship of the princess, he had almost left Ered Luin and moved back towards the Misty Mountains. He had almost given up and surrendered himself despite the ardent love he felt for Dis. There had been moments, more than one, in which he had thought that love could not possibly be enough, and that he would ruin her life with his proposal. And yet, after everything, he had stayed and fought for her, for them and for the family they could have. It was the best decision he had ever made, and he could not imagine his life now had he chosen differently.

Evie was currently suffering from that same painful process, yet hers was intensified by the fact that she was not engaged to a princess, but to a king. The stakes were even higher, and so were the repercussions. But Fildur knew in his heart that she was the right bride for the dwarf he now thought of as his brother, and that the loss of her would be crushing not only to Thorin, but to all of them. Ered Luin needed Evangeline Took, whether they all realized it or not.

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Fildur gestured to a log nearby and they both sat down on it. Evie was struck by a memory of Dis not so long ago, sitting beside the hobbit on her bed back at the mountain, looking at her with the same eagerness and confidence that her husband held in his eyes now. The dwarf plucked a little white flower from a bed next to their forest seat and spun it absentmindedly between his thumb and forefinger. It was now, finally, that he truly explained why it was he had come for her.

"My father was a tailor, you see. It's not a bad profession – every settlement requires a good tailor, as people always need to dress themselves, and my father was not an unaccomplished one, and yet… Especially for dwarves, it is not so great a thing to be. Weak hands, the way they see it. If you do not hold steel in your hands, whether it be an axe or a sword or a mallet, you are always thought of as lower than those who do. It is a culture of strength, of hard metal and solid rock… My family is associated with fabric and stitching… Perhaps this helps explain why it was Belinir was so disapproving of me as a husband for Dis. I never could have courted her in public, and I should not have at all… I am far below her; I always have been and in many ways I always will be, even though I am her husband. It is hard to explain…"

"I understand."

Evie supplied softly, pursing her lips at the thought. In the Shire there were many who deemed themselves better than others (for manifold reasons – whether for their wealth or the style of their hobbit hole or their family's notoriety or their sensibility [that meant keeping out of gossip, being dependable in their opinions, and staying far clear of anything resembling an adventure]), but there was no royalty here, no titles or crowns to worry about. Even so, to listen to the way they were already talking about Evangeline and her engagement to Thorin (news which had crossed over almost as soon as she had begun making preparations for the communal market day), she could easily comprehend the way the dwarves must talk amongst themselves, although with entirely the opposite evaluations – for them strength and honor and bravery were indicators of nobility rather than eccentricity.

"It all started one cold winter day when I was selling my wares at market. It wasn't as fine as you've seen it now – this was well over a year ago and we did not have so much to offer each other as we do now. But we had enough of a market to support ourselves and trade for what we needed. In any case, there I was mending tunics and patterning cloaks when the most beautiful dwarf I've ever seen comes up to the shop window. Her eyes were more blue than any sky I'd ever looked into, her dark hair flowing around her face without adornment or sign of her nobility. I thought she was just another customer, I never guessed…"

He paused for a moment, a smile falling on his lips at the memory. The sweetness caught in his expression made Evie's heart swell in her chest – she had seen the same look on Dis' face so many times before at the mention of her husband. The hobbit was contented to know that such stories of love could be true, and that some people did get the happy endings they deserved.

"She brought me a glove to be repaired. She would keep one and I would take the other and fix it for her in a day or two. But I didn't. She came back expecting it and I told her I had not yet finished, that I needed special materials to match the leather of her glove… So she had to come back another day. That time it was my tools which had been stolen from me. The next it was that I had forgotten. For how long I kept this up and managed to get her to come back to my makeshift little shop I cannot remember, but certainly far longer than propriety allowed. But the miracle of it was that she kept returning. Every other day she would come down to see me.

"After a few weeks of this I asked her to go walking with me… We talked for hours, walking around the foothills of the mountain and sharing ourselves with one another so unreservedly… Or so I thought. She told me she had no parents, but only a brother to speak for her. I asked to meet him, and she promised that soon enough it could be arranged. Well, time went on. Once a week we met for a walk (it was really all there was to do for pleasure for a long time – we did not have great celebrations or markets with the sorts of foods and drinks we do now), and after a while I asked her to marry me. I told her that I would ask her brother's permission, of course, but that I wanted her answer first to know if it was wise that I had given my heart so freely. She said yes, and that was the day I finally gave her back her glove, which she had stopped asking for months before."

Fildur dropped the wilting flower he had been twirling through his fingers, as its petals had begun unfolding from the activity. He plucked a new one, this time simply holding it in his open palm.

"There was a celebration of some sort – for the anniversary of when we had moved to the mountains, I believe, and there was food and drink aplenty. Dis had allowed me to escort her, and we were dancing together and laughing and it was then I realized that we had never been together in public before. I also noticed many eyes upon us, and while I did not then know why, I was about to find out. For Dis introduced me to this infamous brother of hers, and while I had not recognized her, no self-respecting dwarf of Ered Luin fails to know Thorin Oakenshield. The memory is still so clear in my mind – the choking fear I felt when she dragged me right up to him and announced that she wanted to marry me, the cutting look in his eyes… I thought he might have killed me on the spot. But Thorin, underneath all the harshness of his demeanor, is a good dwarf. He spoke with me and sensed my proper intentions, and when he realized that I had not known of Dis' nobility he seemed to like me all the more. But that was not the end of it, for Belinir still had to approve…"

"Dis has told me of his objections, of the difficulty of your marriage and her nearly being sent to the Iron Hills…"

"Indeed. Thorin would not part with his sister, however, as she is his last living family member and if you had seen her pleading with him… My heart has never been broken so horribly."

The dwarf shivered, and Evie placed a tender hand on his forearm. His fingers closed gently around the little flower.

"I know I am not the right one to lead our people. I know very little of the world, I am no sensible, strong dwarf in the way Thorin is, or even Dis when she puts her mind to something… All I know is that I love her, and that seemed to be sufficient. But you, you can do great things for Durin's Folk. You already have. Right now you're worried about whether or not the love you hold for him is enough to justify the risk of becoming a dwarven queen against the advice of some of his counselors, but let me tell you, they are few in number and they believe only in their own perception and not in the reality of what is best for our people. They will come around, once they see you for who you really are. Look at Dwalin, for Durin's sake – I've never seen him speak so highly of someone not of our kin, and he is very hard to convince of anything. You have a good heart, Evangeline. Let it lead you. Shut out the noise of everyone else and what they want from you. Except for me, of course. Do follow my advice."

He joked, stretching back and tossing the flower back into the surrounding forest. He had a strange grin on his face when he met her grey eyes once again.

"Besides, I've never seen Thorin so happy. In fact, I was beginning to believe it was impossible, until you came along."

Evie smiled, looking out at the surrounding trees. The leaves trembled on their branches as a breeze rolled by, disturbing the calm of the forest ceiling. But they did not fall, and instead clung to their bearings and remained faithful to the tree to which they had always been attached. She thought along the leaves to the branches they lived on and the trunk those branches hugged, then down to the roots in the earth and the networks of running, living structure which extended below their feet and kept the tree from bending to the will of the wind or any other changeable force.

Even though it was rare; trees could grow on mountains, she supposed.

Perhaps there was only one way to prove herself to Durin's Folk, and one way alone. Seeking out a simaril could not demonstrate she was a true leader, just as it had not made Beren any more fit to marry Luthien. It validated his bravery and his courage, yes, but in the end it was all dust. She wanted to build something, to create a lasting foundation the dwarves could appreciate just as surely as their forged steel and their carved stone.

The only way to prove to the dwarves that she could rule them was by doing it. By demonstrating her ability to manage the affairs of Ered Luin, her care for her people, her commitment to the mountain and all the treasures it housed, both material and immaterial. She would prove herself a queen by being one.

And so Evangeline Took set back out towards the mountains nestled to the west of Eriador, and towards a life she now felt confident in securing for herself and for those she would soon call her people.

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Author's Note: Hello dear readers! I hope you are still enjoying this story, as I am still very in love with writing it. Evie is maturing a bit and taking responsibility, and I like the way her journey on her own is finally coming to an end. We have a wedding coming up soon, which should be a lot of fun! (Although my goodness I wish Tolkien had given us just a little on celebrations and ceremonies in dwarven culture because I am just sort of going with my gut here!)

Thank you so much for reading! I would love to hear your comments and responses to what's happening now, and I would also very much love to hear what you would like to see from Evie and Thorin! I can't guarantee anything, but we're in a stage right now where I could write a few different things and I'm interested to know what you would like to see! What have you enjoyed reading the most, what would you love to see happen to our hobbit and dwarf friends?

Much love to you all, and I hope you're having a nice fall! Only a month and a half until November and the extended Hobbit! I'm so excited!