It was with heavy hearts that we watched our burglar depart with Gandalf.

The others soon turned back, but Bofur stayed rooted to the spot until they were well out of sight. I stood with him in silence until finally he took my hand and we re-entered the mountain together.

I shivered slightly as we continued back inside. I had noticed it was becoming colder, despite the addition of extra bodies in Erebor itself. Autumn was quickly making way for winter, and the overnight temperatures were beginning to plummet, leaving the vast halls and stone chambers uncomfortably crisp in the mornings. Even wearing thick socks and a heavy coat, my few dresses were too thin and too short, and I found that my extremities always seemed cold.

"Fancy a walk around?" Bofur asked before we began down the usual path back to our rooms.

I nodded and took his arm as he began leading me somewhere new. Again I was suddenly overwhelmed by the expanse of Erebor, it seemed endless, and I wondered if I would ever be able to navigate it on my own.

We began to enter areas that were a bit busier, with dwarves at work erecting scaffolding, rigging up construction cranes, and hauling stone, all of which seemed to be moving out of the mountain.

"What are they doing with it all?" I voiced curiously, watching a cart trundle by hauled by one of the many large goats that now found new purpose after the battle was over.

Bofur replied cheekily. "Let's think... we've got an overabundance of stone. Do we know any place that's desperately in need of repairs before winter?"

"They're rebuilding Dale?"

Bofur nodded. "Aye, not all of it of course. Just patching some of the more functional buildings, that, and the outer walls. Dain has promised them more help though, once the feasts have wrapped up."

I looked around at them curiously, but all the dwarves in the vicinity were dressed similarly and sported rather large beards and moustaches. They were, as far as I could tell, all men. I wanted desperately to see a dwarf woman, but it wasn't until we returned to the main thoroughfare, that I got my wish - much to my chagrin.

As we walked across one of the bridges spanning the cavernous centre of Erebor, we found ourselves blocking the way for a rather large group that had come up from the lower levels. They were rather engrossed in their conversations, all of them speaking quickly in Khuzdul. Bofur and I sidled off to the side, but without guardrails it was a daunting task, slowly trying to make headway against the tide of bodies. We were nearly past them when I caught a look over the edge, far down into the blackness. I recoiled from the drop, only to collide with one of the last bodies in the group. The dwarf spun to face me, and I knew in that moment it was one of the elusive dwarrowdams.

I remember Bofur had jibed once that dwarf women often got mistaken for men, but looking at the figure in front of me, I was completely at a loss as to how that might occur.

She had facial hair, yes, but it only amounted to soft sideburns trailing down her defined jawline and a small, neatly trimmed patch on her chin. Otherwise almost everything else about her simply screamed 'womanly.' She had plump, rosy lips and high, defined cheekbones. Her skin was luminous and clear, and her long auburn hair was expertly styled into a complex array of braiding that pulled it back to showcase her face and decorated ears - which were pierced in numerous places and shining with gems and gold hoops. Her eyes were lined with long, dark eyelashes, and she had also applied liquid charcoal along her eyelids to emphasize their shape, something I had only seen exotic traders do before.

She wore a patterned dress that was quite voluminous at the hips but cinched in at the waist, propping up and displaying a set of large breasts - I found it rather difficult to ignore such a pronounced cleavage. Her figure was full and thickset and she was a good head or so shorter than me, but her clothing expertly flaunted her ample bosom and wide hips, creating a pleasing hourglass figure that was both tasteful and sensual at the same time.

Her sharp eyes quickly travelled up and down my body, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly as she took in my motley outfit. She didn't say anything, however, and carried on with her business without a second look in my direction.

I felt inexplicably uneasy after the encounter. My differences were thrown into stark relief. Compared to these women, I was so plain, boyish almost. My hair hung in a simple, messy ponytail over my shoulder, I had no jewellery to speak of, no piercings... no curves, not even a dress that fit. I couldn't speak their language, I knew none of their customs, and I was suddenly feeling very threatened. If I was someday pitted against a dwarrowdam for Bofur's affections, what did I truly have to offer to keep him interested in me, especially when my years were so limited as well?

"Everything is going to begin at sundown." Bofur explained idly as we passed by a few dwarves carrying massive barrels over their heads. He seemed oblivious to the self-image crisis that I was now experiencing within my own mind. "Dain will make a speech before the feast begins and then there'll be songs and drinks and tales, all in Thorin's honour." he continued as I kept a sharp eye out for more women to compare myself to.

"Bofur, I can't go tonight, not like this." I said when we came to a rather secluded area, pulling him to a stop and looking down at my unusual short dress combination with new disdain. "I hate to complain about something so trivial, but I think I'm actually offending people."

He sucked on his cheek and looked at me thoughtfully. "Don't worry about them; they're all just a tad traditional."

I shook my head. "I don't want to stand out even more." I insisted. "And it's getting too cold for me to wear something like this." I admitted finally, knowing he could likely be prompted into action if he learnt of my discomfort.

Bofur's gaze softened and he grabbed my hands in his. "I'm sorry. I should have asked you that." he mused, rubbing warmth back into my cold fingertips. "I don't feel the chill like you would. Here, take my coat."

I smiled, but quickly stopped him. "No, I'm alright for now." I assured him. "I look ridiculous enough since everything I'm wearing is terribly fitted - your jacket would just add to it. Do you think a seamstress has arrived yet?"

"Let's find out." Bofur quipped optimistically, keeping hold of my hand and pulling me along.

As we ventured further into the mountain, I couldn't help but notice a change in the demographics of the dwarves we were passing. At first many had been soldiers and working class dwarves, but now we were passing more of the clearly upper class. One thing they all had in common though; they all looked at us - at me, and while some were curious, others were scathing.

Finally, nearing the very heart of the mountain, I looked up to see us veering towards Dain himself. He had a scroll in hand and seemed deep in discussion with a regally dressed dwarrowdam whose chestnut hair was braided intricately around her ears but fell in curls down to her mid-back.

"Oh, we don't have to bother him about it." I said quickly, trying to stall our motion. "He's busy, Bofur."

"Nonsense." Bofur replied cheerfully.

Before I could free myself from his grip we had come to a stop just in front of the king-to-be. The dwarrowdam glanced up first and her expression turned somewhat sour at being interrupted. She wore a jewelled headdress and had thick, arched eyebrows, one of which was raised speculatively at our presence. Finally Dain looked up and his eyes crinkled in a smile as he passed off the scroll and stepped forward to grip Bofur's forearm, greeting him quite enthusiastically before turning to me.

"You've yet to meet my lovely wife: Barís." he said, looking at the dwarrowdam warmly. She had arranged her features into a mask of politeness and slightly dipped her head at the introduction. I was rather unsure how best to respond to her. I reasoned Bofur would have told me if there was any strict greeting customs I needed to follow, so I simply bowed my head, said it was an honour, and hoped that was appropriate enough for the occasion.

"How do you fare, lass?" Dain asked me after his wife had excused herself and walked away to speak with someone else. I couldn't help but watch her go, enviously admiring her curvy figure dressed more elegantly than any other woman I'd ever seen.

"She's a bit put-off, truth be told." Bofur answered for me, and I felt my cheeks go warm. "Has nothing in her size to wear to the feasts. Have any seamstresses arrived with your caravans from the Iron Hills?"

Dain shook his head regretfully. "'Fraid not. My soldiers have been busy mending their own seams, you know, poor bastards!" He looked at me critically for a moment, twirling a strand of his red beard around his finger. "But, if it's a dress you be wantin', I know a lass who fancies herself quite the tailoress. She just might be up for a challenge."

He looked over his shoulder, shouted something in Khuzdul and I saw a dwarrowdam stand up from just nearby with an audible huff.

"Oh! There you are." Dain said with a chuckle as she stepped up to him with pursed lips.

I tried not to outright stare at her, but she was quite unique to behold. Her hair was a fiery red, unlike the orange of her father's, and it was as curly as sin. It lacked some of the ornamentation of the others, though it was so voluminous and striking it did not want for character. She also looked quite young, her skin was fair and bright, though across her nose was a small smattering of freckles. I noticed she had little facial hair to speak of; just longer sideburns that appeared well trimmed, but were mostly hidden by the large ringlets of her long hair that fell down along her cheeks whenever she moved her head. She reached a hand up and nonchalantly swiped the invading strands aside.

"May I introduce my daughter, Méra." Dain announced proudly. "She makes all her own gowns, you know, says our old seamstresses lack style." he scoffed and shook head before looking fondly at his daughter. "Don't you, Bumpkin? Hey, this fine woman is in need of a bonnie outfit for the festivities, might you be so kind as to help her?"

"Don't call me bumpkin." she sighed irately at her father, her accent nearly more pronounced than Dain's. She turned her gaze to me and then appraised me with scrutinizing light blue eyes, pursing her pink lips.

"I can make you a dress." she said suddenly, setting her jaw as if in determination. "Quite easily, in fact. Your measurements look simple enough."

I blinked a few times, not knowing how to respond, but eventually found my manners.

"I really don't want to trouble you…" I began.

"I like the practice. Let's go then." She turned on her heel and began to stride away.

"She's quite the handful, you know." Dain remarked to Bofur before nodding at me to follow his daughter's lead. "Best get going then, or you'll be losin' her. Go on, she's your burden now - future king's orders." he finished with a broad wink, and a smile that really did seem genuine at the thought of getting his daughter out from under foot for a few hours.

I thanked Dain, and quickly said goodbye to Bofur, then sprinted to catch up to Méra; fortunately her hair made her easy to keep track of through the throngs of others.

She shot me a glance when I was at her side and slowed my pace to match hers.

"So, who are you then?" she asked as we walked, shooting me another suspicious glance before returning her gaze to the route.

"I'm Bofur's…" I hesitated, not knowing what term I would apply to myself; I had his courting braid, but no other explanation of what that really meant. I then realized I had paused too long and had thus simply labelled myself as being his, which wasn't exactly how I wanted to be known as - nor would I want them thinking that Bofur took up slavery during his travel and now just owned women for his pleasure. I cleared my throat, wondering if I'd ever not feel embarrassed from this point forward. "I mean... well, I travelled with Thorin's company. I'm a friend of theirs."

Méra saved me the trouble of further explanation by interrupting. "My father spoke of you. He said you were in the battle, that you helped even. He told us to try and be welcomin' to you." She turned to go down a familiar corridor and I remembered I had gone this way once with Nori.

"The other dwarrowdams will be rude, you know, to try and drive you off. We're not used to outsiders, and there hasn't been a human so close to Dwarves in a long time, mind you. Most dwarves are not fond of humans to begin with, you know, much less humans that steal our men."

Just before passing out of the hallway we crossed paths with one final dwarrowdam, this one with rather long wisps of hair on her cheeks. She curtsied to the pair of us, but her scowl in my direction made it clear the motion was not on my behalf. Méra returned the gesture but then rolled her eyes as soon as the female was gone. Opening the stone door at the end of the hall, she paused and added as a cheerful afterthought "Lucky for you, I'm not like most dwarves!"

I looked at her with interest as we entered the old seamstress's room. Méra immediately waltzed to the back. Her comfort level made me think she was familiar with the room, or else perhaps all the dwarves, particularly those of high standing, were just more at ease within these halls.

Along one wall rested over a dozen reels of different fabrics. She ran her hand along a few of them then turned to face me, resting her hands on her hips. I noted she wasn't quite as full-figured as her mother, but her dress was truly beautiful and fit her form perfectly - it had a different neckline than what I'd seen on the others and she had made use of a few different green-hued fabrics and patterns that allowed for a very interesting but pleasing display.

"So. What would you like then?" she asked tartly.

I cast my eyes over the fabrics but felt rather inadequate trying to decide. "I just need a warmer dress that fits, other than that I think I trust your judgement over mine. You're clothes are lovely."

She beamed at the compliment and then clasped her hands together. "Right then. Well if you be needin' it by tonight, let's get started."

She energetically began perusing the options, occasionally pulling one or two rolls out and holding it up against my skin or hair, babbling all the while. She was clearly in her element and I was happy to give her complete control.

"The pale colours do seem to wash you out; I think we should go darker then. Oh, look, here's somethin' nice, and if we use this underneath..."

She bustled forward with a swath of navy blue fabric.

"I've not made anythin' for a human lassie before, I'll need your numbers." She moved to the counter and picked up a measuring device. "Strip." she ordered suddenly.

She stared at me defiantly a moment when I hesitated before turning her back with a huff. I began removing my outer clothes. When I was down to just my undergarments she turned around and whistled through her teeth.

"You really were in the battle then. Wow, you mark up easily." she admonished. I bit my lip self-consciously as she approached. When she drew near she lifted the arm that bore some stitching over a healing wound (one of a few that still needed to be removed by Oin) and inspected it with a grimace. "We'll need to make sure not to catch these on anything… in fact, no sheer fabrics for now. Your skin is a mess… and you're too skinny, I can even see the shapes of some of your bones, is that normal for humans?" she asked curiously as she began measuring across my shoulders.

"For some... We come in a lot of shapes I guess." I replied, allowing her to move my arms as she needed.

"You want it to about here then?" she asked, squatting down and indicating to my ankle.

I nodded. "And, if you can, I'd like it to fit more closely above my waist, sort of like the dress I had on before, and I don't want the neckline too high-"

"Don't worry! I'm not going to make you some old granny nightgown." She grinned as she measured my waist. "Aye, you'll be wantin' to look decent, no doubt, but still all proper and what have you. See, that's why I started making my own wares; didn't like bein' forced into the traditional boring gowns that the elders still seem to fancy."

I smiled, starting to get a sense of her character. She seemed somewhat rebellious, but her family name and reputation only allowed her to exercise her free will in limited ways - such as expression through clothing.

"You're cold?" she asked incredulously as she took the last few measurements, liking noticing the goosebumps that now graced my arms and legs due to standing too long in just my underwear.

"You're not?" I replied, noticing she didn't wear an overcoat, just her long-sleeved dress.

"No, I find it too warm!" she exclaimed. "And we have to wear all these layers! I've even left a few out of mine, but I'm still roasting . See, look!" She took a step back and lifted the bottom hem of her gown, showing me the numerous overlays of fabrics that made up the voluminous shape of her skirt. "But if you're cold, I can add some layering in yours. Not as much, mind, I don't know if the style would really work well with your shape... But, in fact I think I saw-" She suddenly bustled back towards the fabrics, unceremoniously tossing the measure tape to the floor. She hadn't written anything down, and I thought she must have an amazing memory, or else I'd have a very poorly fitted outfit.

"You can get dressed now!" she called over her shoulder as she pulled some rolls aside and then proclaimed "Aha!" as she lifted one into her arms.

I finished tugging on my old dress just as she came up and held it out for me to feel. I ran my fingers over the fabric. It was a dark grey in colour, and very soft to the touch.

"Can you believe this is wool? Look how thin it is? And it doesn't even itch. From a rare breed, and woven a certain way..." She smiled suddenly and began to unroll it. "I'll make you an underdress of it, and then you'll be complaining you're too hot as well."

I spent the day with her as she cut out shapes, double checked my measurements, and - with a quick and practiced hand - began to sew. She talked endlessly, and drilled me with questions about my journey with the company. I almost didn't think she'd get through one dress, let alone two, but just after midday she had me try on the long wool undergown. She laced it up along the sides of my waist and chest and I was pleasantly surprised at how well it fit. It was low cut in the front as to not be visible, but it hugged my chest and arms comfortably and I could instantly feel its thermal properties. She did a few last adjustments, shortening the sleeves a bit more; again so it would be hidden underneath what I would wear overtop.

She became more excited as she pulled out a few of the darker, decorative fabrics she was debating over for the main dress.

"Leave me be now. I need to work my magic." she said suddenly, looking up at me from her spot on the floor. "I'll come find you when I'm done."

I tried to explain where my chambers were located but she waved me off. Before I turned to leave, however, I paused and looked at her gratefully. "I can't thank you enough for this."

She smiled and brushed her hair from her face for about the hundredth time. "Don't thank me 'til I'm done."

It was nearly dusk when I finally heard a rapping on my door. I had already bathed and brushed my hair to a wavy shine, and was beginning to worry I still wouldn't have something to wear. As soon as I opened my door, a flash of flouncing hair strode past me.

"Hurry, try these on." Méra ordered, flinging the garments over the back of the sofa. "I need to go get ready soon myself."

I quickly pulled on the wool undergarment and she helped me lace up the sides, then I stepped into the dress. Once I had it mostly adjusted, Méra spun me to tie up the back, pulling it tight at my waist. It was relatively simple in design, though, given the inconveniently short amount of time she had to work on it, I was still wildly impressed. Most importantly, it fit exactly how I wanted it to.

"I don't know how you did all this in a day." I said in awe as I looked down at myself, running my hand along the smooth navy coloured fabric of the overdress. "How can I repay you?"

She snorted. "Don't worry about it. Your presence here may be enough to break up the droning monotony I usually deal with spending my days sipping tea with the other dwarrowdams." She smiled. "I'll find you when I'm feelin' bored, that'll be payment enough."

She turned to leave and then spun back around. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten. I brought you this. Those bruises look even more ghastly with that dress on." She tossed me a small glass container before letting herself out.

I stood in front of the mirror and dabbed my finger into the cosmetic concoction Méra had given me. It was a thick flesh-toned liquid and it did seem to work rather well to hide the bruising on my neck when I blotted a fine layer across my skin.

I heard another knocking at my door which turned out to be Bofur. His eyes twinkled when he saw me and I stood aside to let him in, critically looking over his clothes - unchanged since this morning. I reached up to tug on his scarf with a small grin.

"You're going to make me seem over-dressed." I commented idly, leaving him to come further into the room while I went to continue getting ready. Before I made it to the other room, though, he caught my hips in his hands and murmured into my ear.

"Maybe I'll need to un-dress you then."

I laughed, swatted his hands playfully and pulled away, encouraging him to go sit down while I finished. I made my way into the adjoining room, leaving him behind seated on an armchair.

The mountain was suddenly filled with the noise of a host of horns, followed by the slow steady beat of drums in the deep. I moved to the doorway, to find that Bofur had rose from where he sat and was looking towards the apartment's exit.

"That's our cue, dear. Are you almost ready?"

I was nowhere near to feeling ready, but I nodded before disappearing back into the bathing room, where I frantically began to trying to rearrange my hair, so plain it looked compared to the elaborate styles sported by the few dwarrowdams I had seen. I bit my lip, tucking it behind my ear and then pulling it free in frustration. It never could sit quite right, and in the midst of an adventure it seemed to mean less and less, but now, about to be on display for all the kingdom to see, I felt under a tremendous pressure.

The horns blasted out once again, setting me on edge, but my shaking hands steadied instantly as Bofur stepped up and took hold of them.

"No dwarrowdam has such soft, luminous hair. It's lovely, just as it is. Trust me." he said comfortingly as he let go of my fingers and then pulled my courting braid over my shoulder.

I took a breath and finally nodded, unsure of what to expect but knowing Bofur would be at my side, giving me support and strength when I needed it.

Erebor was never very quiet since the battle ended, but as we exited my room I became acutely aware that the ever present murmurs of the mountain had escalated. Other company members were exiting their rooms, while Dwalin, Dori and Gloin were already waiting impatiently at the hallway junction. We joined our companions, and when we were all together we joined the procession of dwarven royals that were leading out of the wing of noble apartments and down towards the feast. Bofur told me it was to be held in the Hall of Kings - to celebrate Thorin's life amongst the greatest dwarven lords of all time.

The tremulous noise of a thousand individual conversations grew steadily as we approached, and with it a growing assortment of aromas tantalized my senses. Having eaten such basic rations for so long - ever since leaving Laketown half a dozen years ago in fact - my mouth was watering something fierce by the time we reached the hall. It was not the main entrance we had been directed to, though, and I soon understood why.

As the door opened, I saw at first only three tables directly in front of us. Dain and his household sat at the central table, the great dwarf lord chatting amiably with a few dwarves who stood before him. The far table seemed to consist of nobles and commanders, as they wore a mixture of robes and armour, each one more wildly extravagant than the last.

The third table, I realized, was for us. There was Balin, seated just next to the royal family, leaving nine empty seats. I pulled Bofur aside as the rest of the company began to file out.

"We're at the head table!" I whispered urgently, a questioning tone in my voice. Why hadn't he told me? All at once my hopes of going relatively unnoticed during the feast vanished.

"You bet your bottom we are." Bofur confirmed, then lifted a hand up to brush his fingers across the side of my face. "There now love, I didn't want you to worry yourself to death. Besides," he added, nodding towards the door, "there are several hundred pent up dwarven soldiers out there, and I want every single one of them to know you're all mine." He reached around me with his other hand and pulled me into him. A mischievous grin lit up his face, but he simply planted a kiss on my cheek. His confidence, however, was always awfully contagious.

I smiled and turned my head, hoping to receive a more substantial kiss since we were still relatively shielded from view, but he held up a finger and waved it as he stepped back away from me.

"Ah ah, no more of that in public. We're officially courting now, you and I. Can't be causing a scandal on our first date, now can we?" With that, he winked, and then turned to beckon me towards the doorway. I mustered up what courage I could and walked into the hall.

To the right, the massive tapestries of the Hall of Kings, recently repaired, stretched up above me. To my left, a host of dwarves so large that even the great hall we were in seemed to barely contain them all. I hurried to my seat, between Bombur and Bofur, trying my hardest to ignore hundreds of eyes that all felt like they were staring directly, and judgmentally, at me.

Finally, when it seemed the entire hall was full and every dwarf had taken their seat, Dain stood up.

I was not expecting him to begin speaking in Khuzdul, and for a moment felt flummoxed. The dwarves I had known so rarely spoke their own tongue that I had almost forgotten it was their first language. Had they been forced to use Westron just because of mine and Bilbo's presence that whole time? What an inconvenience, I thought as I stared pointedly at the grain of wood along the table edge. I was beginning to feel increasingly like an unwelcome outsider.

Bofur leaned over and my train of thought was broken as he began to whisper in my ear.

"He's telling them about the last time he saw Thorin, before the battle." he translated quietly. "Thorin met with him before the company gathered at Bilbo's house in the Shire. He had asked Dain to join us in retaking Erebor."

"A few hundred extra dwarves would have made the trip more interesting..." I commented idly, but Bofur shushed me and continued.

"Dain turned him down, and as you well know Thorin went ahead with his plan anyway, despite lacking an army."

The king added something in a bit of an aside to his train of thought, and the multitudes laughed.

"Dain said he thought he was the stubborn one in the family. Anyhow, now he's talking about the perils we faced along the road… No doubt Balin told him all that has happened, but you know all that. Oh, there's a good bit about how brave and handsome I am."

I smiled nudged him with my foot under the table. He stifled a laugh, agreeing to take it more seriously - which was good since Dain then grew solemn.

The king, now finished telling of our journey to the mountain, moved on to the confrontation with Smaug, though here I noticed the story began to take a turn from the truth. There was no mention of dragon sickness, no mention of gold lust. Dain focused on what was already known - animosity that had grown from a deal gone bad, generations prior, that had led to the confrontation between Elves and Dwarves. Yet, despite old hatreds, in their darkest hour Elves and Dwarves fought together, side by side, as they had in ages gone by.

"He wants everyone to focus on Thorin's legacy, as an honourable man who struggled and eventually overcame the burdens passed down by his forebears. He made mistakes... aye, Thorin wasn't perfect, but in the end he died more worthy of loyalty than any dwarf I've ever known... a better friend than any humble miner could hope for."

I realized that Bofur had stopped translating. He was speaking as himself again. His eyes shimmered slightly, turned down towards his plate. He stopped talking. Despite a thousand watchful eyes, I reached over then to place my hand on his; not as a lover, but as someone sharing in the intimate depths of loss. He sniffed, then lifted his free hand to wipe his eyes and flashed a grin to recover from the moment.

"And now, he's talking about building a whopping great statue out of gold. With any luck, we won't even need to sacrifice it on an ornery old dragon like we did the last one." He added with a small smile.

Suddenly Dain shouted something which caused the assembly to burst out into deep cheering. A procession of dwarves began to enter the hall, all carrying silver platters laden with food. The head tables were tended to first, but it wasn't long before the vast expanses of the many long tabletops were covered with all manner of delectable choices. More cheering ensued when large barrels of ale were next rolled in and lifted into place along one side of the hall.

"Do you want me to dish you up, love?" Bofur asked, indicating towards my plate. I nodded distractedly as I leaned forward, turning to watch Bifur. On the far side of Bombur he was hard at work crafting an absolute mountain of mashed potatoes. He went on to add trees of steamed broccoli and cauliflower, carved tiny entranceways with his spoon, and then in a moment that seemed very cathartic, poured a gigantic spoonful of gravy on top and chuckled as it washed everything away. Despite the rather impromptu removal of the axe shard from his head during the battle, it seemed he had not quite lost all of his eccentricities. I grinned in confusion at his antics and then turned back to see Bofur holding up my plate in front of me. It was too late to stop him so I watched regretfully as he added another excessive scoop of baked beans to an already heaping plate of food.

"There yah are." he said happily, setting the plate down in front of me.

"Thanks." I replied sardonically, unsure of where to even start on the daunting selection. Instead, I picked up a bun and cast my eyes up along the table at my old companions. I noticed Dwalin staring down at his hands, making no move to dish up, his whole body tense.

"How is he? Dwalin?" I asked Bofur quietly as a server came along and filled our tankards.

"Still not talking much… He blames himself." Bofur replied with a frown. "We've all tried to help him, but I reckon he just needs time."

I frowned as well, wishing there was something that could be done to lessen the pain he was feeling.

I ate in silence for a while, idly listening to different snatches of conversation in Khuzdul all around me. It was such a halting language, it almost seemed to use all consonants, and sometimes I just heard harsh throaty sounds I'm sure I could never replicate.

"Does it bother you?" I questioned, turning to Bofur as I began to pick away at my plate. "Having to speak Common with me all the time?"

"No, not at all." he said good-naturedly. "Most of us are just as comfortable using it. There's still a few holdfasts West of the Shire that keep to the old ways, limiting contact to the outside world. But, for the most part we can't poke our heads out of the ground without running into humans these days, so we're as fluent in Common as we are in Khuzdul and Iglishmek."

"Iglishmek?" I repeated slowly, raising my eyebrows in a question.

"Oh. Just another of our ancient and most secret traditions." he added with a sly grin spreading across his lips. He then lifted his hand and seemed to just be flexing it out. A moment later, a page appeared with a tankard full of ale, which he grasped whilst looking at me pointedly. I looked back dumbfounded at what he was doing, until finally he frowned thoughtfully. He then looked down the table, catching the gaze of the first dwarf who looked his way - Nori. Meanwhile, I was starting to wonder if something was wrong with Bofur's hand, as it was moving again. In fact, Nori seemed to be stretching his hand oddly as well...

I began to put two and two together, and Bofur confirmed it a second later by turning back to me.

"Nori asks if you would be so kind as to pass the salt." he said, eyebrows raised so obviously that this time when he raised his hand up, I got the hint.

"You can talk with your hands?" I whispered excitedly, now rather interested in the idea and casting my gaze towards the tables nearest to us after passing the salt bowl along via Bombur.

"It's more than that, more than just signals for Khuzdul words. Iglishmek is its own language, just as detailed as Westron itself. Very handy in all the noise of a battlefield, mines, smithies, echoey underground caverns... oh, large feasts as well, so really it's no surprise Dwarves perfected such a fine way of communicating. There's even some debate as to which language we developed first."

I smiled, now noticing a few dwarves in my vicinity doing motions with their fingers and hands that I would otherwise have written off as idle stretching or casual emphasis accompanying actual speech, but now I was insanely curious to the depths of the communication that might be occurring all around me.

"You can't teach me though, can you?" I asked regretfully, my face falling.

Bofur looked somewhat embarrassed. "It wouldn't be considered right for you to learn... Usually we don't even speak our languages in front of others, so at least they've made that exception for you."

I nodded, trying to feel privileged that I was even allowed to attend an event such as this, with the dwarves comfortably using their native tongue despite my presence.

"Do you remember," Bofur said suddenly, holding up half a boiled egg on the end of his fork and pointing it at me, "when you got pissy at me at Beorn's for sending us all out at Gandalf's signal?"

"Yes." I said, my gaze darkening. "Though I was pissy for other reasons too, you know."

Bofur ignored my jibe and carried on. "Well, you see, he was signalling, perfectly clearly, in Iglishmek."

I stifled a laugh and shook my head. "He was so put off each time you sent someone out. I'm sure he wasn't purposely beckoning for them. What if he was just nervously wringing his hands about and they just coincidentally formed words in your secret hand language?"

"Well, what if he wasn't? And it was all an act? Whatever the case, you can't be mad. I saw what I saw." Bofur finished cheerfully before finally eating his speared egg-half.

"Well maybe next time we see him, we should ask him." I countered, wondering if we ever would see the wizard again as I continued to enjoy my meal.

Finally I had eaten to my heart's content, though I had to become rather forceful with Bofur as he kept urging me to have a bit more. Meanwhile I sipped slowly on my ale but found it was too strong for my tastes, so my one tankard was lasting me a very long time whereas Bofur had already downed a few.

"Does this go through the night?" I asked Bofur, wondering how late it was.

"No, lass, this will go on for 3 nights and 3 days. Then on the morning of the fifth day, Dain will be crowned the new King."

I gaped at him and he chuckled. "You're not forced to stay the whole time." he assured me with a pat on the hand.

"Is the fourth day just to recover?" I wondered idly, but Bofur tapped the side of his nose with a grin.

"Aye, now you're thinking like a dwarf."

I left Bofur not long after, expected he'd stay through the night. My body, however, was still recovering and I felt drained after such a busy day, but once I left the overwhelming busyness of the feast I found that the cool air of the mountain eliminated some of my feelings of drowsiness. Rather than head directly to bed, I found myself wandering the few halls that had become familiar to me, lost in my thoughts. When I finally registered where my feet had taken me, I stood on one of the balconies overlooking the treasure hoard. My eyes drifted unfocused over the unfathomable wealth, and all I could think was how much the world would be better off without it.

"So this is what so many thought was worth dying for." a deep voice growled from behind me, causing me to jump and whirl about wildly. From a nearby alcove a massive hulking figure rose up and moved towards me, and even after I recognized him I had a hard time regaining my composure with my nerves still fried as they were.

"Beorn." I finally managed to get out, turning to join the shape-changer as he leaned with both hands on the railing of the balcony. After we stared out at the wealth for a moment, I spoke up.

"I never got a chance to properly thank you, for rescuing me out there..." I offered, after we had stared out at the wealth for a moment in silence. He looked down at me with gravely, and I found myself wondering if he and Bard might not be related in some distant way as they both seemed to favour particularly grim facial expressions.

"Your injuries are healing?" he asked curtly.

I nodded and then gazed at him in contemplative silence for a moment before I spoke up. "Beorn... if you don't mind me asking - what are you still doing here?"

I knew of his dislike for dwarves, and so I was shocked that he had even entered the mountain, let alone stayed thus-far.

"I attended the funeral of Thorin Oakenshield... but that is not why I stayed." He turned his head to look at me, studying me in the light of nearby lanterns.

"Dwarves are perilous by nature, the company you had followed even moreso." he began, his eye boring into mine. "I stayed to remind them that you willingly chose to go with them, pledged your loyalty to them... and what consequences would befall them should that choice bring you any further harm." He looked back away towards the gold. "Now you are safe. I must be going soon."

I was touched by the man's devotion, though I was at a loss as to what I could have done to have earned such a protector in such short a time as I had spent with him. I seemed to have little time to ask, though, as he let go of the railing and turned away from the treasure as if to leave. I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop me while placing his other massive palm on my shoulder.

"You followed your heart after those dwarves where I would have judged them as harshly as orcs once. You see the good in them. I must try as well."

I slept until nearly midday and decided to go see how Bofur was, hoping I could get some lunch at the same time. I put on my dress and pulled my hair up, twisting it into a quick bun, so that I would look a little different despite wearing the same outfit.

I followed the noise back towards the Hall of Kings. I was a little surprised at the sheer mess. Food and wooden tankards littered the floor, and stacks of dirty plates and trays were haphazardly piled by a surprising load of emptied barrels. The dwarves were no longer organized in their seats, many were standing, crowding in small groups here and there, generally milling about, laughing, betting. The noise level was double that of when I had left last night, but it appeared that there was fresh food laid out along the tables so I decided to stay for a meal at least.

I didn't see Bofur in his seat at the head tables, but some of the others were there so I made my way towards them and took a seat next to Bombur, nodding in greeting at Balin further up the table.

"Good morning, Bombur." I said as I pulled a clean plate towards me and began to pile it with some cold cuts. "Do you know where your brother is?"

Bombur had just stuffed a roll in his mouth but he quickly nodded and indicated down the line of tables

I looked down the length of the room and eventually spotted his hat. He was amidst a group that was observing some kind of game involving cups and die. I shrugged to myself, not wanting to interrupt, and began to eat.

As I was helping myself to some sweet pudding, Bofur finally noticed my presence and returned to the table, pulling up the empty chair beside me.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked as he sat down.

"Don't need to sleep yet, not while we still have ale." he replied with a crooked grin, holding up his half-full tankard.

I frowned, knowing he hadn't slept the night before either. "Well, how about you join me tonight then?" I asked discreetly.

Bofur's face fell somewhat and he bit his lip. "I can't anymore." he said, setting down his drink. "Our wing isn't that private now. The lads didn't mind o' course, but if anyone else saw me going in and out of your rooms at night..."

I tilted my head. "But if you're courting me-"

"That's just it. Courting involves very strict guidelines. Rules, see? If we're to be taken seriously, which is my hope, then they must be followed."

I nodded, still not quite seeing the point of courting at all since it limited your interactions with each other so severely.

Bofur grabbed a plateful of food and then began telling me that after the coronation, Dain was planning to have a large sum of gold brought forward to Dale. Bilbo had wanted to donate the majority of his burglar earnings to their restoration efforts, he said.

"What of the Arkenstone?" I asked under my breath.

"It lies with Thorin now. Of all the kings of old, he reminded us that we dwarves don't need rings or stones, no matter how precious, to choose a king."

Nori eventually joined us, sidling into the seat next to Bofur and beginning to talk animatedly about some bets he had recently won, and games to take place later.

"Then the singing will begin, I expect." Nori continued as he went over plans for that evening.

Eventually I grew tired of sitting and felt I was holding Bofur back from socializing as freely as he might without keeping me company, so I claimed I was going to rest for a while.

I leaned down to give Bofur a quick kiss before I left, but he turned his head so my lips fell upon his cheek. I scowled and pulled away.

"Rules." he reminded me with an apologetic grin.

"Fine. I'll see you later." I snapped.

Still brooding over Bofur's new chaste attitude, I found my feet carrying me unbidden through the mountain, taking the smaller passages and pathways that kept me away from prying eyes. I knew Bofur was thinking about the big picture, and that how we acted would influence our future together, but here and now, in the short term, I couldn't help but feel like he was judging me, judging us, just as harshly as the rest.

It wasn't until I came to my second, no this was the third dead end, that I realized I was lost. Even with the feast in full swing, passages were being unblocked daily by dwarves spurred by boredom, curiosity, or bets.

"You really shouldn't wander so far if your sense of direction is so poor, you know."

I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling about to see none other than Méra idly munching on an apple while leaning up against one of the nearby pillars.

"Really, it's a good thing you found the company when you did, otherwise who knows where you might have ended up."

I smiled and sidled up to her. "Dwarves seem to like getting me out of trouble. Confidence boost probably." I shrugged nonchalantly. "So I have to present the opportunity every so often."

She smirked then nodded back in the direction I had come from, pushing herself away from the wall and beginning to walk. I followed, and once I was in tow she began speaking.

"Your dress seems to be holdin' up rather well." she observed without looking back at me. When I inquired about the rather splendid dress I had seen her wearing on the first night of the feast - which had since been replaced with a different one - she laughed and explained that, as the most desirable up and coming bachelorette in Erebor, she had an image to uphold.

"...and I did just that. Some miserable bugger, lookin' to court me no doubt, came to pay his respects to my parents and I. Just so happens that I 'accidentally' spilled my cherry pastry all over his pretty white cloak. Got a speck or two on myself while I was at it, is all, so mum made me change."

I wondered what her relationship was like with her parents, wondered and tried to remember what it was like to have someone fuss over you out of genuine care. Méra was obviously taking after her father. Would I have taken after mine?

My companion was clueing in to my absence in the conversation - even though conversations with her were seeming to involve more and more of me just making appropriate one word comments at the right times.

"You're in trouble if you can't even focus during my stories. Just wait 'til we get to supper. They'll be starting to sing the dwarven sagas, all in Khuzdul, mind. At least I have the decency to tell my tales in a language you can understand."

I smiled and apologized, but she didn't seem slighted in the least, and continued on.

"And if that's not enough to put you to sleep, there's the Legend of Durin - told in Iglishmek. And if there's not dead revered silence throughout, the lorekeepers start right back at the beginnin'. One year, a few dozen dwarves had coughs after one of our mines caved in, dust in the lungs, and you'd think they'd make an exception, but no, kept the whole of the Iron Hills up for three days before we got through it. Father was one of the worst, kept sneezing, mum looked near about ready to just end his suffering. She still hates his sneezing to this day."

She led me up a few sets of stairs as she continued talking.

"Are we not going to the Hall of Kings?" I asked curiously when she was between subjects.

"Too early. Let's get a spot of air, will help me stay awake later." she explained, directing me along. I felt the breeze before we came to a long veranda. It had some damage but was still mostly intact.

I walked up to the railing, savouring the feel of moving air against my skin. The sun was just beginning to near the western foothills. As we looked out, back towards Mirkwood and the Misty Mountains, I couldn't help but think of all I had gone through. It hardly felt real, to be standing here now when only a few months ago I was indentured and engaged to such an awful man half a world away.

"Do you miss where you came from?" Méra asked in one of the rare moments when she had no story of her own to tell.

"I came from Laketown." I explained, turning my gaze south to look towards Dale and the Long Lake, barely visible around the curve of the mountain. She turned to me, looking for an explanation as to why I had travelled from Bree, but I cut her off. "I don't miss Bree, or even Laketown now that it's gone. To be honest, it's been a long time since I've had a home worth missing."

"Do you want to live here then?" she asked without preamble, pushing her hair to the side in order to peer at me.

I looked at her. "Do you think I'd be allowed to live here?"

She grinned and shrugged. "My dad's a pushover, shouldn't be a problem - if you stay on my good side, that is."

We then headed for dinner. Méra waved goodbye to me as she went to sit by her mother and I took my seat next to Bofur. The hall had been tidied, and the dwarves were once again seated. All the sconces had been lit and fresh candles placed at intervals down each table.

After the food had been served, a very large, very aged looking dwarf stood up in front of the head tables.

As we ate he began singing, in Khuzdul of course, his voice was loud and strong despite his white beard, and it filled the hall for all to hear.

I ate politely, slowly, waiting for whatever story he was telling to end. Finally he bowed his head and returned to his seat.

"Next they'll be starting the Legend of Durin." Bofur whispered to me.

"The Legend of Durin?" I repeated. "In your sign language?" Bofur nodded and I remembered Méra's veiled warning that it was usually a very lengthy and very dull tale, even for those who could understand it. "I'm leaving now." I said quickly, ignoring Bofur's raised eyebrows and bipping off before they could begin.

I was still having nightmares, and after a few failed attempts at sleeping any worthy length of time I sighed and got up. I shivered upon leaving the warmth of the blankets and threw my coat on over my nightgown.

I added a few logs to the dying embers and then paced my room, trying to shake both the chill and unease I felt as I unwillingly recalled aspects of my dreams. It was certainly harder to relax when there was no one nearby to glean comfort from.

I wondered if Bofur was in his room yet; it seemed late. Very late. Surely he would have needed to return for some sleep by this point.

I chewed on a nail and slowly convinced myself that while it was inappropriate for him to stay in my chambers, maybe it wouldn't be considered as bad if I were to willingly visit his. I nodded to myself and left with determination, though not before peeking out my door for a good minute to make sure the coast was clear.

Luckily Bofur's door was unlocked. I quietly let myself in, but the dark, quiet of the place suggested he wasn't back yet after all. I let my eyes adjust to the dim and realized his chambers were very similar to my own in terms of layout. I then carefully picked my way to his fireplace and worked on it until it was lit. I sat for a few moments, but soon reckoned it could be hours before he made an appearance, if at all, so I made my way to his bedroom and let myself fall asleep while I waited.

I awoke with a start when I heard the outer door slamming shut. I sat up, for a moment confused as to where I even was. I smiled after I had cleared my head and lay back down, wanting to surprise Bofur with a warm bed. Yet instead of the sound of footsteps, I heard a loud crash coming from the other room. I jumped and quickly got to my feet. I tiptoed towards the bedroom door, it was still ajar but I kept by the wall, out of sight, listening intently. I heard nothing else and started worrying, so I stepped out, half-expecting to see Bofur fallen over drunk.

He was leaning with his arm up against the fireplace, looking down at the flames with a tankard still in hand. It appeared as if he had knocked over a pipe stand, scattering pipes, pipeweed and cleaning implements across the mantle and the floor.

I could barely make out his features but saw him shake his head and heard him exhale hard through his nose. I took a few tentative steps into the room.

Suddenly he stepped back a pace and threw his mug into the fire, the spirits igniting and causing the flames to become momentarily wild.

I gasped, and he spun around at the sound, finally registering my presence.

"What are you doing here?" He half shouted, coming towards me.

I hastened back a few paces, suddenly unsure. He wasn't himself. I wondered if he was really drunk or just in a different stage of grieving, but whatever the cause he seemed somewhat unpredictable.

"I can go." I stammered quietly as I edged along towards the door. He had stopped the moment I had jerked back and was now watching me with a rather pained expression.

"You shouldn't be in here." he said, his voice becoming alarmingly emotionless.

I suddenly realized that I had been foolish to presume I had leave to let myself into his private rooms unbidden. I had fallen into a level of comfort with a Bofur that apparently clouded my better judgement. With cold clarity I remembered that I truly hadn't known him for all that long - and the amount of time we'd been intimate with each other was even less than that. He suddenly felt like a stranger to me.

I whispered an apology as I reached back and felt for the door. I was nearly there when he lost what little resolve he had left, his next words pleading.

"Don't go."

I froze as my hand came to rest on the door handle, but then my fingers fell from it. He was no stranger, and my love for him was still real, tangible - it gave me courage. I took a small step forward. "Bofur, how can I help you? What do you need?" I asked gently.

He looked at me a moment, his eyes burning into me.

"I need you." he declared before suddenly surging towards me.

He shoved me back, pinning me against the door as his lips crashed into my mine. His mouth tasted of alcohol and he smelled of pipeweed, but I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him close. His hands trailed roughly over my body, grabbing my breasts, hitching my leg up against his side. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. I groaned in pain, my scalp still quite sensitive, but felt a warmth blossom in the pit of my stomach as he moved his mouth to my neck, sucking and biting and trailing rough kisses down to my breasts. I tried to keep pace with his need, opening up to his advancements, helping tug off his tunic and hat then pulling him into me once more. But his strength, paired with this blind desire, was rather painful, my old bruises burning anew as he crushed against me. He slid his hands down to my bottom and then grabbed under my thighs, hiking me off my feet and flush against him.

I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me from the room and all but threw me down onto the bed. I gasped as I hit the mattress but he followed close behind, leaning over me and kissing me deeply as he fumbled with the drawstring of his trousers. I tensed, knowing I wasn't ready for him, my nerves still holding my body hostage.

Surprisingly, even through the haze of ale and anguish, he seemed to sense my reluctance and abruptly jerked away from me.

"Leave." he ordered quietly, pulling his eyes from me. Was that shame on his face?

I sat up and looked at him questioningly, but still he avoided my gaze.

"I don't want to take you like this…"

When I did not withdraw immediately, he chanced a look at me from the corner of his eye. Seeing I was not affronted by his earlier actions, but rather sympathetic to his plight, he sighed and moved to lay down beside me, his large hands taking one of mine and laying it on his chest.

"I don't want to go." I told him gently, and yet I was reluctant to proceed as we had been. After learning the pleasures to be gained from such an act, I was loath to revert to the more painful variety of coupling I had been subject to in my past - my body might not be up for such with my injuries still on the mend.

Still, he seemed in no state to talk - at least not yet. Despite his restraint, I could tell his mind was muddled by drink and dark thoughts, and needed time to clear. I decided if I could take control and set the pace, I might still be able to provide him with the carnal physical release he had been seeking.

With some trepidation, I straddled him with his pants still on and locked my eyes on his. When he made no objection, I took a slow breath, pulling my hair over my shoulder before beginning to gyrate my hips, rubbing against the obvious hardness between his legs. His hands gripped my thighs and his dark eyes watched me lustily as I used his body to warm myself up. I began to revel in the feeling of power I gained from such a simple yet tantalizing action. I had felt so inadequate lately, and seeing the dwarrowdams had caused my confidence to plummet, but in that moment I knew he wanted me, and he wanted me badly.

I leaned forward and kissed him, forcing him to kiss me slowly at first, only allowing him access to my mouth for a few moments at a time despite his moans of protest. I grinned and slid down slightly to focus on his neck, moving his hair aside and sucking gently as he squirmed beneath me, his hands sliding down my back. I smiled against his skin and carried on to his chest, placing a few kisses along it before scooting myself down and carrying on lower still. I placed a kiss right at the edge of his pantline on his treasure trail then glanced up at him, smirking slightly at his rather dumbstruck expression. Agonizingly slowly I finished untying his trousers, looking up at him the whole while. His eyes were heavily lidded, his breathing somewhat laboured. I then bit my lip and grabbed the hem on both sides of his hips. I paused for a moment, just for effect and then tugged them down.

I really had no idea what I was doing, but when I lowered my mouth, gently and experimentally kissing him, the deep appreciative sound he made in his chest was all the encouragement I needed to keep going.

His head fell back against the pillow as I enclosed my lips fully around him, learning that a sucking action was greatly received. His hands tangled in my hair and his moans became more frequent as I grew confident and eager with my administerings.

Eventually he guided me back up and flipped me onto my back.

I looked at him confused for a moment.

"You'll be the end of me doing that." he said huskily as he divested me of my nightgown.

I grinned, and moved to kiss him but then stopped myself. "Oh, do you mind kissing me after-"

"Don't give a damn." Bofur growled before claiming my mouth.

His hand moved down and between my legs, and it wasn't long before he brought his hand back up, showing me his fingers now slick and wet. My eyes widened when he brought a finger to his mouth and sucked it clean.

"How sweet you are." he said, smirking at my shocked expression. He then slid his cheek against mine, brushing his lips against my ear as he whispered to me.

"Stay with me tonight."

The next day I woke up snuggled against Bofur's side.

Our activities lasted through the remainder of the night so I figured it was well past noon. I turned and rolled up on top of the still-sleeping dwarf, shifting and pressing my weight down against his body as I tried to wake him with a slow but eager kiss - it was then I also noticed something of his pressing against my leg.

"How is that possible?" I smiled against the side of his mouth and ground my thigh against him as he hummed appreciatively. "Thought you'd be all spent up after last night."

He grinned sleepily, his arm wrapping around my waist before he suddenly flipped me onto my back.

"Dwarven stamina." he purred against my ear, gently biting the lobe before moving to kiss my lips.

"But I suppose you'd rather get up and start drinking and feasting and not kissing me in public? Don't let me keep you." I commented rather chidingly as I ran my fingers down along his shoulders.

He smiled and ran his hand up to my breast. "I think that all can wait.