If Evangeline had tried to imagine the merriest gathering of any creatures in all Middle Earth, the jollity and gaiety she thought up could never match as even as a sliver to a whole the joy and merrymaking of the wedding party.

Hobbits had poured out of the Shire to Ered Luin – Evie believed that almost every single one of her relatives, and their relatives, and their friends, and everyone she had ever met (and some she hadn't) had either been invited or had invited themselves to the celebration. The dwarves welcomed them, and it touched Evie's heart to see the two notoriously stubborn races getting along so famously. It helped, of course, that the hobbits had brought barrels upon barrels of pipe weed of all kinds (plenty of Longbottom Leaf, since they were familiars to the Tooks, Old Toby, Southern Star, and a good deal of Southlinch as well). The dwarves contributed mead which seemed to overflow from every cup in sight, and the Hobbits were happy to partake in that and share their own bounties.

There was music, a charming tune which floated over the assembled party and put a skip in everyone's steps as they wandered from table to table, starting up conversations and grabbing more food or drink. There were cakes and fruits and all manner of tasties from the Shire – everything from marmalades to biscuits. The dwarves supplied the soups and meats – hearty courses which were their custom, full of agreeable and inviting scents. Many of the company had also started dancing in the large open space near where the food was served. Tables were piled high with all sorts of meats and sweets and other delights, and no belly went unfilled. Skirts swished and hands touched as couples met with one another in the soft green grass. The evening light was pale blue and cast across the scene a sort of cool haze, warmed by the flames of the candles, which twirled and pirouetted as if a part of the jolly gathering.

Evie stood to the side, watching the hobbits and dwarves mix in with one another (although there were certainly some groups of dwarves who sat with only their own kind and shot wary glances at the visitors, as well as gaggles of hobbits who stood on the edge of where their friends were dancing and whispered to each other of the strangeness of their hosts). She smiled as she watched a dwarf and a hobbit dancing together, his tallness making the red haired Shireling look so very small as he spun her around to the happy tune of the band.

The blonde inhaled as she felt a pair of hands on her arms, but relaxed as soon as she recognized the gentle touch and realized who it was who was standing behind her. She leaned back onto his broad chest, smiling.

"My wife…"

Thorin's voice was deep and rumbling and she felt it resound through her as she pressed herself against him. He tucked away a few blonde curls which had escaped the braids holding back the front of her hair and kissed her temple, his long nose brushing the edge of her forehead. Evangeline closed her eyes and sighed softly, utterly content.

"I love you."

She whispered, her hand finding his at her shoulder. She slipped her small hand within his much larger one, guiding it towards her so that her pink lips could press against his knuckles with all the tenderness in the world. She placed kisses along his rough fingers, calloused from so many years at the smith, and she felt him breathe in sharply, stirred by her. His throat tightened as he realized in adulation the complete and total affection Evangeline felt for him, which he found replicated in his own heart tenfold. He was overcome, for a moment, with his own good fortune, with the senselessness at which people were given such absolute happiness. He had done nothing to earn this, to deserve her, and yet here she was, by his side, and she would be as long as they both lived. He kissed her again, this time on the cheek, and Evie realized the heightened sentiment in the action and slowly turned to face him.

The look on the king's face was indescribable. At the wedding he had seemed eager yet perhaps a little nervous, but now, with the sweet taste of mead on his breath and his wife in his arms, there was nothing limiting the unqualified gladness he felt in every bone of his body. His eyes shone in the joyful candlelight as he looked down at her, verklempt. He leaned forward and kissed his bride, the hard callouses of his fingertips scratching along her smooth cheeks as he pulled her close. She adored the sensation of his needy lips against hers, his kisses deep and desperate as though each moment was the only one they would ever have. She loved him with every fiber of her being, and as her hands slipped into his hair, brushing past the small circlet he wore for the wedding, she could have smoldered forever in his embrace, outlasting the candlelight and even the moon with her insatiable need for him.

When they finally broke away, breathless and startled by how impossibly good it felt to be so close and not have to worry about searching eyes or mutinous tongues, Thorin smiled down at the hobbit and she felt her heart swell in her chest.

"May I have this dance, my lady?"

He asked, a twinkle in his impossibly blue eyes. Evie nodded, beaming.

"This and many more, my love."

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Evie and Thorin were sitting together, their hands entwined on the table between them as they relaxed and made conversation with the assembled company – a few hobbits who were sharing their thoughts on the magnificence (and perhaps extravagance) of Ered Luin and some dwarves who had thoughts to share regarding the wedding ceremony and well wishes for the new couple. The pair took it all in stride, and Thorin had been enough into the mead that he was unbothered by the critiques of some of Evie's more audacious kin. She was thankful for that; for even as her cheeks flushed when they asked about the stonework or why anyone would want to live in such a stuffy place, the king simply brushed off their guileless suggestions and committed to enjoying the evening. The healer was on the verge of suggesting that her cousin, Bathilda Took, find another ear to burden with her adolescent evaluations when Dwalin saved her the trouble by interrupting the conversation with a cloud of smoke and a hearty cheer.

"Thorin!"

He called to his friend, nearly tripping into the king's chair as he stumbled over to them. The dwarves assuredly knew how to drink, Evie mused to herself as she evaluated her old companion's inebriated stance. It was not as if they were easily burdened by drink, but on the other hand barrels upon barrels had been emptied already and to her knowledge none of the dwarves had yet retired for the evening. One of Dwalin's enormous hands came to rest on the back of Thorin's chair, and the other reached out for Evie's, which she offered him with dainty caution. He took it as gently as he was able in such a state, kissing the top of her hand in what she supposed was not quite the most bristly kiss she had received that evening but was surely one of the most sincere. He gave her fingers a playful squeeze before releasing her and addressing the hobbit politely,

"My lady."

The blonde nodded to him courteously, trying not to laugh as they went through the proper motions of introduction despite the casual circumstances. Next Dwalin turned to his friend, massaging the king's shoulders good-naturedly for a moment before leaning his head in between the couple and announcing,

"You know what this party needs? More music…"

One of Thorin's thick eyebrows shot up on his face, and his curious expression made Evangeline's laughter finally ring out like the merry chiming of little bells. Her grey eyes traveled between her friend and her husband as she tried to piece together exactly what this meant; certainly Dwalin was referring to something in particular or else Thorin would not have reacted in such a manner.

"We have music already, my friend."

He cautioned, but the other dwarf would have none of it. "You were married today, my king, and to this lovely female no less. You are happy, your belly is full… If not now, then when?"

Their eyes locked with one another and held, as if the two warriors were determining who was the most stalwart and whose point the most cutting. Eventually Dwalin won out, it seemed, for Thorin reluctantly stood up and, patting his stomach and taking a long gulp from his cup, turned to follow his companion.

"I assume you already have it."

Dwalin grinned toothily, like a child who had just been told they were about to play his favorite game.

"Dis brought it out…"

"Of course."

Was Thorin's short response, and although the king was doing his best impression of being perturbed with the boldness of his cohort, the light in his eyes spoke otherwise. He was happy to be pressured into whatever it was they were about to make him do, and Evie's heart filled with excitement to find out just what it was. She remembered him mentioning how he had begun to sing again for the first time in so very long… Was this of the same ilk? Whatever it proved to be, it would present another side of her new husband she would be privileged to discover, and that thrilled her as much as anything. She followed the pair forward, her arm looping around Thorin's as they made their way to where a few dwarves were playing some dancing tunes for the party. Dis was waiting nearby, and when she saw them approaching her face lit up like a firework had just gone off. She nearly jumped into the air as she eagerly waved behind her in what was no doubt a signal to her co-conspirators. Indeed, a moment later Fildur and Balin arrived with a collection of instruments. Balin passed a viol nearly taller than he was over to his brother, who took it from him with elation marking his every move. Balin had another of his own, and Fildur passed something wrapped in a rich green cloth to Thorin. The king took the large, heavy looking object and looked at it for a moment before removing the wrapping. Evie understood innately that this was no wedding present, but was rather something from her husband's past which he had not seen in a great while. She turned to watch his expression as he slowly unfolded the cloth, taking a shallow breath.

The hobbit had not known what to expect underneath the mysterious green cloth, but whatever she had guessed it to be, she had certainly not anticipated the introduction of a large golden harp. His fingers traced the gorgeous shape of it and explored the curve of its body breathlessly for a moment before he swallowed, stunned out of his trance by Dis, who gestured to an open chair. The band had stopped playing and had moved aside for the new company to take its place, and all seemed quiet for a moment as they watched the group assemble. Fildur had a fiddle and Dis a flute, and between them all there was little they were lacking in order to make a fine show. Evie smiled encouragingly at her groom, her eyes alight as she recognized the latent importance in this – no doubt Thorin had not played in a very long time.

The king's fingers slowly moved to the strings of the harp, as if he was convincing the instrument of his intention and gaining its trust like he would an unsure mount. There was a pause, and then all at once and rather suddenly the warm night air was full of music. It seemed almost impossible that such sound could come out of a single instrument – the tune burst forth with such ample richness it was as if Evie had fallen into a dream. Thorin's large fingers glided over the strings of the harp with deftness, and despite however long it had been since he had last performed these motions, they seemed to return to him with exactitude; he did not miss a string. Instead his hands flew over the assorted threads as though they were water and his practiced rippling of them caused waves of music to flood around the listeners. After a moment the others joined in; the deep tones of the viols underscored the soft, floating tunes of the harp and Dis' flute chimed in above the refrain while Fildur's fiddle added to the striking harmony. There was something haunting about the song they played – Evie wondered if it was an old dwarven tune or if they were all simply improvising, but as Thorin's fingers danced along the thick metal strings of his instrument and his head bowed over its golden curve, his eyes closed as he felt the music in every sinew, the hobbit knew whatever it was they were playing, it came from the heart. The tune was quick and nimble at first, but it progressed into something much more somber as it continued.

Evie let the music capture her, and she closed her eyes as she submitted to the romantic, soulful melody. There was something in it which was sweet, yet full of nostalgia. For all she knew of the dwarves, she was surprised that they had any songs which were not alike to this, poignant and full of a lingering, aching yearning which harkened to an older time. They had many little ditties for drinking or merrymaking, but this, she thought, must be their true music. Every string tugged at her heart, drawing her out of herself and into a story told clearly enough without words. She longed for it, and for her husband, whose music tore at her very soul. There was a pause, and all the dwarves gathered around them seem to draw in a breath of deep feeling, and then the music slowly began to pick up again. It became rather jolly, twanging strings joining together in a happier tune. The fiddle took precedence for a moment, sliding up and down the scales in a cheerful dive, and Dis' flute enunciated the new theme quite clearly. The surrounding group began to break up, their awe at watching their king play dissolving into a great desire to dance – this music demanded not an audience but a party, and the assembled company joyfully obliged. The dark blanket of night above them was dotted with spectacular shimmering stars which seemed to twinkle in time with the beat of the music and the dancers below.

The bride was lost in the music for a few moments more, and only gathered herself from her trance when the last few honeyed notes faded into the warm dusky sky. All came to silence after the last of the music was caught by the gentle breeze and carried away to other parts of Ered Luin, where it would no doubt sweeten the evening elsewhere. Thorin's eyes finally opened and immediately his gaze connected with his wife's. There was pain and grief and bliss and truth all at once captured his striking eyes, yet each sentiment was soothed by her sympathetic grey orbs. The corner of the king's mouth pulled up into a wry smile, and he leaned back in his chair, never breaking their eloquent visual connection. It was understood, in that moment more than any, that Evangeline Took and Thorin Oakenshield loved each other more deeply and more honestly than anyone else sharing the same velvety night sky could possibly realize.

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Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I know I've been slow in updating lately – I have a lot going on and a job which keeps me pretty busy, but Evie and Thorin are always in the back of my mind. I hope you enjoyed this chapter – please let me know what you think! I really wanted to have a scene with Thorin playing the harp because I thought it was such a charming trait in the book, and so here it is! I hope you're all well, and I look forward to continuing Evie and Thorin's journey into married life very soon.