Bofur watched with mixed emotions as Dain was exalted as King Under the Mountain. The tragedy of losing Thorin and his nephews was still on the forefront of his mind, and he could see the sting of it behind the eyes of the company, as stoic as they tried to appear. He squeezed the hand of the woman standing beside him. At least he could enjoy her wonder. He had tried not to grin when her eyes had widened at the sight of the King's Hall. His people had exceeded even his expectations in repairing and transforming the space in such a short span of time. Now it was rather magnificent to behold, though his well-trained eyes could still recognize the areas in need of further work. Her excitement, however, was contagious and he loved her appreciative nature. He found it easy to ignore the judgemental stares from some of his own kind as he led her through the crowd, trying to explain certain feats of engineering that would have went into the initial construction and then the ensuing repairs within the great hall.

The Mountain had opened its doors for this event, coronations being one of the few ceremonies that could be viewed by not only dwarf-kind, but also by the humans and elves (if they could be humbled enough to attend) that wished to form alliances with the kingdom after recognizing and pledging fealty to the new king. The public ceremony was held in the common tongue for all to understand, after which the elders and the new king would retreat to acknowledge a private sacred rite which would complete and officiate the crowning.

After the coronation, Bofur noticed his beloved's attention directed towards a group near the back of the hall and looked to see Bard and his family, along with a rather large group from Dale that had ventured forth to witness the event.

"I won't be offended if you abandon me for a while." he said, nudging her side and nodding towards the group of humans. She smiled and promised she wouldn't be long before releasing his hand and weaving her way back towards Bard. He knew she must sorely want for the company of her own people, especially since his weren't always particularly welcoming.

He spent some time conversing with Bifur who had, thankfully, regained some of his cognitive skills after the removal of the broken weapon blade from his skull. Bifur was lucky, a fluke in the battle successfully doing what some of the best dwarven healers dared not. They had been told that moving the fragment at all could further damage his frontal lobe and might leave him in much worse a state; he might have lost his entire range of movement or the ability to understand any speech at all, he might have even lost his life.

It had been difficult for Bofur to watch his cousin, once a calm and dignified dwarf, respected by many for his phenomenal skills crafting extremely intricate toys, lose both his talents and -basically- his mind. In a mere moment he had gone from being exceedingly logical to having maniacal outbursts for no legitimate reason. His hands, once so careful and nimble as to craft the smallest of gears to give life to a watch, or to a children's gift, suddenly had trouble doing up the laces and buttons on his own clothing.

It soon became difficult to even remember Bifur as anything but the unpredictably demented and wild dwarf that needed help simply putting on his own boots. Yet every so often Bofur had seen him, quietly admiring a piece of art similar to something he had once been able to craft himself, sometimes even an item of his own making, looking for all the world as nothing more than a normal man saddened by the fact that he no longer had the ability to do what he had loved most.

Remarkably, without the invasive axe tip lodged in his forehead, Bifur had instantly repossessed the ability to speak Westron. Bofur had also begun to notice a slow but steady improvement in his concentration and problem solving skills. He also seemed less prone to unexpected mood swings and was becoming more like the dwarf he had been before the accident. He might never be entirely the same, but any improvement at all had once been thought impossible. Bofur had never minded looking after him with Bombur's help, but he could not deny that a part of him was now relieved that he could spend less time worrying about his cousin.

Besides, he had someone else to take care of now.

Bofur glanced back in her direction. She was speaking with Bard's eldest, a smile on her face as she did so. Bofur grinned. It was nice to see her looking comfortable, socializing with someone she could relate to, someone who didn't scorn her strictly on principle...

Bofur frowned to himself. He wondered if she wished to leave. She had not expressed so, but then, he had not directly asked. Was it fair of him to keep her here when it only suited his best interests? He desperately wished he could make her feel more connected to his world, to help her understand his customs and to make his people realize she could be trusted... that she belonged - but there were so many accursed rules! He could barely teach her translations of simple words without the risk of being brought before the elders. He had yet to talk to Dain to ensure she would even be able to continue living within Erebor, though her growing friendship with Méra was an unexpected boon that might yield certain advantages above and beyond that of female companionship. Her ties to the royal family could protect her and secure her place - despite the customs that were already being broken simply by her living under the mountain. It was a peculiar circumstance. Dwarves did not cohabitate with outsiders. Yet he knew, no matter what might happen or what their future would hold, he would not be parted from her.

If she left, whether be it by her own will, or by the order of the king, he would leave too.

A few weeks slipped by without much furor, besides a small party of dwarves that had been sent to scout and map the lower levels not returning when they were anticipated to. Bofur told me this wasn't yet too concerning. Erebor's depths were a relative mystery, and most of the architectural layouts from the past had been burnt or simply mildewed away, so it was unclear precisely what tunnels might exist and how deep they might travel. It was most likely that the scouts had found a new passage to explore and couldn't be bothered to return until they had documented its entire length. A search party would be sent out if they didn't re-emerge in a fortnight.

Bofur, after our relatively lengthy and passionate time in bed together before the coronation, vowed to henceforth stick to the strict (and stifling) rules of courtship. Despite a few rather unchaste kisses at my door before bed, he now seemed determined to behave. I was tempted to ask Méra more about dwarven courtship, as I wasn't sure what was quite expected of me, nor what a successful courtship even entailed, though it felt like a rather personal subject so I never knew exactly how to bring it up.

As time passed by, my body slowly returned to its original skin tone as my bruising entirely faded. Besides an ache that persisted in my shoulder after a night of sleep, courtesy of Azog's spike paired with the dislocation during battle, I felt my strength return to me. This was not necessarily a good thing, however, as I grew increasingly restless with nothing to do. Bofur was often busy during the days, helping clear more rubble from the interior halls and attending cryptic meetings with Dain and the other company members. Without him to lead me around, I felt very unsure wandering Erebor, so I spent a large amount of time still within my chambers. Thankfully Méra came to whisk me away on occasion to keep her company while she did needlework or dressmaking.

I often wondered if we would be made to vacate our lavish rooms, but so far the issue had not arisen. Dain and his family had moved into the King's Quarters at the heart of the mountain after his coronation. That branch was accessed from behind the throne, and there were adjacent wings for his immediate guard. No one of greater importance had yet arrived to take our place in the set of royal chambers we had become comfortable in. Bofur explained that most of Erebor was also in flux, with dwarves changing rooms frequently to always be near the area they were set to work in. For now, we were able to stay, though it felt rather lonelier knowing that Fili and Kili's rooms lie empty. I had to remind myself that I would never again see them, even just in passing in the hall.

"Is there nothing I can be doing to help?" I complained one afternoon while having tea with Bofur, Balin and Ori. I looked at Balin pleadingly as he raised his white eyebrows at me. "I'm sure there must be some tasks that I would be capable of."

"I told her she should still be resting, recovering." Bofur interjected.

"I'm recovered." I said exaggeratedly. "Yet I will surely go mad if I have nothing to keep my days occupied."

"I'll look into it, lass. I'm sure we can set you up with a small project for now." Balin assured.

Fortunately Balin had kept his word and I was able to finally feel productive by helping with some of the smaller intact chambers that sorely needed just a general cleaning; dusting, sweeping and organization. I would accompany a few other dwarves in this task, one of which kept documented notes on each room, marking down anything significant kept within and what the room might need to become fully functional (such as candles, firewood, new linens, etc). The dwarves I worked with seemed to begrudgingly accept my presence, though I would often spend the entire day without having been spoken to at all. They would whisper to each other in Khuzdul and I often saw them communicating silently by gestures. Eventually it didn't bother me as much and I was gratified feeling that least I was doing something to earn my keep.

Yet, there were days I secretly wished I could go to Dale, to help their efforts instead, as there I could at least talk to people and not feel like the social pariah I was here. It had been good to see some of the townsfolk at the coronation, Bard and the girls, and a few of the woman I had rallied with. They had greeted me with warm smiles and hugs, friendly words, and well-wishes. It made me miss a home I never knew, a home perhaps I wanted. I found myself studying the inner mountain as I worked, the tall dark ceilings, the cold that seeped up through the stone itself, the churlish people that criticized me with looks under heavy brows and scowls hidden by large beards.

Would anywhere within Erebor ever feel like home? Could it ever be cosy?

Bofur, I thought, would make things cosier.

"I still don't understand why we can't stay together." I mused aloud, leaning my shoulders back against my door after he had walked me to my rooms after dinner one day.

Bofur smiled kindly and rubbed his hands up my arms.

"I'm courting you publicly now," he announced once again, "there are-"

"Rules. I know." I said with a huff. "It's not proper for you to be in my rooms after dark." I recited, but then lowered my voice and reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. "Can I come to your rooms then?"

Bofur chuckled. "What, and besmirch my honour?" he taunted with a sneaky grin.

"I wouldn't dream of it." I smiled back. "Or maybe I would." I teased, but then I looked at him with a more serious expression. "Would you let me come over just for a short visit, only to talk?" I asked hesitantly. "It's not so late yet, and I haven't seen much of you lately."

Bofur thought for a moment and then nodded. "Aye, how can I say no to such a pretty face?"

I smiled as he gently took my hand and led me to his door.

"No funny business though." he added with a small grin as he opened it for me.

"I promise." I said airily as I swept past him and made myself comfortable on the soft fur rug as he relit the fire. He then sat appropriately on the adjacent chair rather than beside me. I tried not to pout at him.

"What have you been busy with lately?" I asked conversationally after taking a few minutes to warm up.

"Oh you know, this and that, typical dwarf business and what not." Bofur replied most unhelpfully.

I scowled playfully. "Do you really have to be so mysterious all the time? It's off-putting."

"Off-putting!" Bofur repeated in mock offence. "And here I thought our mysterious nature was more of a turn on." he said with a smirk.

I scoffed. "I'd much rather you weren't always so cryptic. I still feel as if I don't know anything about you."

Bofur studied me a moment, his gaze softening. "What would you like to know?" he asked with a degree of earnesty I hadn't expected.

I looked at him and blinked. "Everything." I responded simply.

Bofur smiled slightly. "Ask me then. Whatever you like. I'll answer if I can."

I was caught off my guard by his willingness to open up, and had to think a moment to form a question.

"Are your parents alive?" I asked after chewing my lip a minute.

Bofur leaned back. "My dad died in the Battle of Azanulbizar, my mother had faded after losing him, but only just passed a few years ago."

"I'm sorry for that." I said gently.

"They were good dwarves, simple folk really." he continued with a nod. "Found joy in the everyday things; a good meal, a good joke, a good mug of beer before bed - a good partner to share that bed with."

"They sound like you." I commented with a small smile.

After a few moments of silence I realized he was waiting for another question and there was one pressing in my mind, but I was nervous to ask it.

"Can I - May I ask..." I hesitated, fumbling on my words, but Bofur inclined his chin slightly, his expression calm. I took a steadying breath. "Well, I'd like to know if you have any children..."

I looked down quickly, embarrassed at my own audacity to ask such a thing. Yet I did truly feel as if I needed to know. For if he did, his children would be older than I, given that he once alluded to the fact that his wife died before I was even born, and that would certainly be something I would need to come to terms with.

Bofur was silent for a long, terse moment and finally I peeked up at him. He caught my eye and thankfully did not appear angry, just somewhat solemn.

"No." he said finally. "We- ah- tried for a while, but did not have any before-"

I nodded quickly so he did not have to explain further. We were both quiet for a few minutes and I looked to the fireplace, my thoughts getting ahead of themselves.

"You did want children though." I ventured quietly, glancing at him sadly.

"Who would not?" he replied with a little shrug.

I quickly returned my gaze to the flames, biting my lip quite hard. "It's just," I began after another somewhat terse moment, "If you stay with me - well, we couldn't..." I trailed off.

I heard him get up and soon felt his arms wrap around from behind me. "I know." he said gently, nuzzling his face against the side of my neck.

"I would not have you give up something so important because of me." I commented quietly.

"It was another life... What I want now is you." he said firmly, his arms tightening for a moment around my waist. "But you would be giving that up as well. It is more than I should ask of you. I want you to be sure."

In truth I had never quite thought about having children in recent years. As I transgressed into adulthood, slowly, torturously, at the Inn, I had given up all hope of even a semblance of a normal life. Once, children would likely have been naught but a duty, part of a contractual obligation if I had been married to the Innkeeper, or even to someone of Laketown. Thinking about it now, I felt that I would probably have liked to have Bofur's children, as my love for him was only growing... but it was not possible, our bloodlines couldn't mix. It would be a sacrifice for both of us, but I knew I would rather spend my days with him - even if that meant just him - rather than move on and settle for anything less than the love of my life.

"I'm sure if you're sure." I said finally, sitting up and turning to look into his eyes. I reached a hand up and placed it on the side of his face, trailing my fingers down to his chin and guiding him to kiss me.

"I'm sure." Bofur confirmed, before placing his lips on mine.

"What else would you like to know?" he asked breathlessly, pulling away before we forgot ourselves, but staying seated close to me on the floor.

"I don't want to push my luck." I said with a small frown, but he urged me on. "I am only wondering because dwarves, you told me, don't fall to illness or disease..."

"Aye..." Bofur said slowly, cautiously.

I looked at him apologetically. "How did she die?" I whispered.

I heard him sigh just slightly and he briefly looked away but still he answered as he said he would. "She went on a voyage with her sister; a simple voyage to the south to visit kin, a cousin with child. They took the quickest route, along the River Luhn which rushes down to the sea, and camped on a rocky outcropping. Dwarves know the strength of stone - the cliff, the cliff was sound." he assured, though seemed to be talking more to himself at that point. After a pause, he continued, his face somewhat ashen. "But the damage done to that region long ago was so great, that even still the waters seek to claim more dwarven land." His composure began to falter at this point. "The cliff... it gave way in the night... She drowned."

I suddenly remembered all the times Bofur had reacted adversely to water. Now, of course, it all made sense and I felt horrendous for my previous reactions; I had scorned him for not wishing to swim at the river and became frustrated at him for being overbearing when I wanted to go in with my shoulder still healing. I had also sloughed off his anger when he had witnessed my near-miss trying to help free Balin's barrel while escaping Mirkwood, I didn't understand at the time, the trauma he must have felt then.

"Bofur." I whispered in shock. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that happened." I said, laying my hand over his. I shook my head slightly. "And I feel awful for always being so thoughtless around the water around you."

"You couldn't have known." Bofur replied gently, lacing his fingers with mine. "And I should have had more faith in your abilities."

I rubbed my thumb along the top of his knuckles as we both fell to silence one more. There were many more questions I wished to ask. He had lived an entire lifetime and I knew nothing of it. Yet after he had revealed such personal and sensitive details, I felt that further prying could wait for another time.

"I would ask you something now." Bofur said eventually.

"Anything." I replied encouragingly, I surely owed him any details he wished to glean.

"Are you unhappy here?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine. "Do you want to leave?"

I began to immediately object but he held up his hand and cut me off.

"I'm not trying to push you away." he clarified. "I just want you to be honest. If you are unhappy, there are other options. We could try Dale... or, well, wherever you like."

I frowned while in thought for a moment. He had said 'we,' so presumably if I wanted to settle in Dale he would come with me. I hadn't expected that to be an option. We wouldn't be far from Erebor and his people, and he likely wouldn't experience the same ostracism I felt here. Humans were rather open in their dealings with the other races. They had no secret customs to protect and no unifying set of physical traits - I had seen human men and women near as short as dwarves and as tall as elves, men sported both beards and shaven faces. It was definitely a much more forgiving culture. The people of Dale would likely welcome having a dwarf on site to help with the ongoing structural repairs.

Yet I could not forget that we had fought and bled and died for Erebor. Bofur had lost friends he had known an age for this mountain. It was a very hard-won prize. I did not know if he would be truly willing to give it up, not after all that he had been through to get here.

"I'm not unhappy." I said carefully. "And I don't want to leave. Not yet anyway... It's not always easy with you dwarves." I smiled slightly and tugged on his hand. "But I would stay - if I can."

Bofur smiled warmly, pulling me in so that I could lean my back against his chest as he hugged his arms around me.

We asked each other nothing more that night and simply enjoyed the warmth of the fire and each other's company before I was escorted to my rooms at an appropriate hour. With one final kiss (this one leaning towards the chaste side), I was sent to face another night alone while cursing this blasted courting.

Another week slipped by and I helped complete the cleaning of a larger communal sleeping area. Two dozen beds lined the wall of a circular chamber centred by a fire-pit. Some of the beds sported rotten posts and none of the linen was salvageable. Yet after a few days work, and with the latest shipment of supplies from the Iron Hills, my team and I were able to make the room fully functional once more, even adding a few luxuries such as new floor rugs and water basins.

I noticed that more dwarven women seemed to have arrived and I could not help but watch them out of the corner of my eye whenever I found myself in their presence. It began to irk me that they always seemed dressed to impress. They were the very height of fashion, never so much as a hair out of place, certainly never sweaty or dishevelled or dirty from a day's work. Yet here I was, my long hair twisted back in a messy bun, my face sticky with sweat and smudged with dust, a very stained and wrinkled apron tied over my old tunic and trousers - the knees of which were beginning to tear. With only one long dress to my name (which was much too nice to clean in) and then only short dresses making up the rest of my wardrobe (which would also be inconvenient since I was often on my hands and knees working), I had taken to wearing my old travel clothing which did little to help my image. The looks of disdain I received were not lost on me, even though I often tried to avoid the dwarrowdams where I could.

"I did not know we were taking on human servants." I heard one of them remark, loudly and in the common tongue, as I trundled past a small group of them while carrying a large bucket of soapy water. I felt my cheeks begin to burn and avoided looking up at them at all costs, trying to pretend I didn't hear.

Sharp laughter broke out. "That's the girl Bofur is courting, didn't you know?"

I set my jaw as I heard their noises of astonishment.

"I could have sworn that was a human lad."

More laughter.

"Why is she wearing trousers?"

I desperately wished the bucket wasn't so heavy, forcing me to walk slowly, but I had already sloshed some water down the side of my leg which was definitely not helping the situation.

"Well, who is she?" one of them asked.

"Just a commoner from Laketown I hear."

There was a few tuts and scoffs at this.

"I know! It's quite the scandal. Just unheard of!"

"She's certainly not much to look at."

"Now, now, be nice."

I tried, and failed, to ignore the following insults and general comments of disapproval as I rounded a corner and hurried out of their line of sight.

"Well, I don't expect she can even read!" one announced loudly before I was fully out of earshot.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as anger flooded through me. Of course I could read! My father had taught me when I was little, in fact, many Laketowner's taught their children at least basic reading and writing skills - even Alfrid had known how to read as a young boy.

I fought the urge to abandon my work and retreat to my rooms in order to nurse my wounded pride, but instead I took my frustration out on the tasks I was assigned, finishing them quickly due to my built-up angry energy, but making mistakes since I could think of nothing else but my humiliation.

By the time Méra (bored as always) found me, these mistakes had worked me into a frenzy, and the room was in nearly worse shape than it started in. I faintly registered that my co-workers had long since given me run of the area, and were now milling about in the hallway waiting for my rage to pass. I heard one of them grumble a word in Khuzdul, and then Méra popped cautiously into view in the doorframe.

"Woah..." she remarked as I stood panting in the centre of the room, the now half-filled bucket in one hand still sloshing about while I clasped a cleaning rag white knuckled in the other. When she advanced, I dropped my bucket and cloth right where they were and made for the door, grabbing the bewildered dwarrowdam in tow as I went. Behind me, the dwarves were silent in their own wonder at the rage of a woman scorned.

"I need a new dress. Now." I finally stated once we had put some distance into one of the less used regions of Erebor and I had caught a bit of my breath back.

"Ehm… why?" she asked innocently. I finally freed her from my grip then whirled to face her.

"It doesn't matter." I urged. "It just needs to be better than the first one!"

She placed a steadying hand on my arm. "Easy on there. What you need to do is cool down first… which actually works out perfectly. Come on, I've got surprise for you!" With that, she now took me in tow and we were off again, further into the empty depths of the mountain.

I allowed myself to be led, all the while nursing my hurt, probing at my pain like a scab and prolonging the healing process. Part of me, a part I didn't quite understand, seemed to want to suffer, to feel estranged here… to have a reason to long for a return to a human life.

I was so entranced with my own thoughts that it took my guide nudging me in the ribs to rouse me. We had entered a passage not yet tackled by a team of caretakers. At the end, there was an opening onto the mountainside itself. We exited out onto a narrow ledge, and I was forced to lift my hand to protect my eyes. When they finally adjusted, I gasped despite myself at the view of the valley spreading out in all directions around us. Méra shimmied along the ledge, calling out to me to hurry up lest we be seen. At the end of the ledge, she spun and began to climb down a rope ladder fastened into the stone.

"Is this safe?" I called out, shivering as the cold winds cut through my thin layers of clothing. Méra paused to look up and reply.

"The old Western guardroom is below us. It's been blocked from the inside, unless you fancy a hundred foot free-climb up from below, this is the only way in. Come along now!"

With that she continued a few more rungs and disappeared back into the mountain. I followed, and when I reached the opening I realized it was a window, rather than an actual door. I climbed in, and the guardroom spread out before me.

The room housed weapons and armour, like the royal armoury where the company had geared up before the battle. That was where the comparison ended. Where those ornate suits were reverently arranged and cared for, what remained here was scattered and unkempt, the legacy of Smaug's attack. In the centre of the room, a dwarf was busily inspecting one of the weapons.

"That's Ganin, my instructor." Méra said somewhat proudly as she retrieved a strip of leather and attempted to tie back her long, wild hair.

"Instructor?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You might be surprised to hear that our women have been known to become warriors," Méra began, "but 'tis a rare thing, often young widows will turn down that path, and it's not an easy one at that. Ganin was one of the trainers of the female warrior caste. He's been out of a job a long while, mind. When Erebor fell, seems like dwarrowdams were in even greater demand, and so parents made doubly sure their daughters would never be without a match." She sauntered over to the weapon rack and picked up two short swords. "So these days, this sort of thing is frowned upon, you know. My father would never allow it… but I am going to learn to fight, whether he likes it or no."

I watched as Méra twirled her swords in a flourish that somewhat painfully reminded me of Fili, she had clearly practised prior to this meeting.

"Why?" I questioned, wandering up to look over the weapons as well.

Méra looked at me. "Why what?"

"Why the interest to fight?" I asked. "Surely a princess will never see battle."

Méra scowled. "Don't call me princess." she sighed. "I would love to prove myself on the battlefield, like my father's done countless times. I hate sitting around on my arse all day; needlework, lessons, gossip. It's so dull! And what makes it worse is them forcing me to meet these pompous, eligible lordly bachelors, desperately hoping I will pledge myself to one of them so that they can be marryin' me off. As if! They're all just wretched. I envy my brothers..."

I smiled ruefully. It seemed we were both misfits in this structured and rigid society.

"But you were in the battle, what was it like?" Méra then asked excitedly. "Did you do much fightin'? Did you kill anythin'?"

I nodded, trying to remember, I hadn't really thought back on the details, truthfully I didn't quite want to. "It was scary." I admitted. "It was just chaos, and death at every turn. You don't even really notice... that people are literally dying right beside you... because you can't, there isn't time to notice much at all beyond what's coming at you, unless you want to join the dead as well… Your father saved me at one point."

Méra let her arms drop, her swords hanging loose in her grip.

"Did you not want to practice then?" she asked, noting my rather forlorn mood.

I shook myself out of my gloomy reverie before my thoughts turned darker. It would be nice to learn, properly, even if it had no purpose for me save for the comradery and general fitness. It would be kind of fun actually, secretly helping Méra break out of tradition and learning such an unexpected skillset. I picked up one of the thinner swords and smiled.

"Next time bring me a proper longsword and I'm in." I said with a grin.

Méra lifted her weapons with an excited yell and beckoned to Ganin.

"Speak common tongue please, so that my friend here can understand." Méra ordered lightly.

Rather than the fast paced crash course I faced when last I had trained, these exercises were more about rhythm and precise control. Méra's mentor seemed in age and attitude much like Balin, though was physically more like Dwalin. He would demonstrate an action, and then Méra and I would mirror the action until we became comfortable with the motions. It often took me several tries to even get the movement correct, and despite watching Méra repeat them extremely slowly for my sake, our tutor would often still come to correct me.

By the time we finished our tenth set, several hours had passed. My whole body ached, and several of the actions, when done in slow motion, seemed to work out muscles I had never even used before. The added weight of a sword not suited to me also added to my fatigue.

The whole process had been strangely meditative.

"Now about this dress you're keen for," Méra began with a satisfied smile as she set her swords down, "what did you have in mind?"

I wiped my forehead on the back of my hand and figured I surely looked even worse after sweating through these exercises as well.

"I want…" I began, chewing on my bottom lip a moment. "Well, I want something more… dwarven."

Méra shot me a glance, her bright eyes scrutinizing me. I met her gaze and shrugged, trying to hide the hurt I was feeling from the other dwarrowdams harsh judgement.

"I'm tired of standing out so much." I admitted with a sigh.

Méra nodded slowly but frowned. "I can surely try. Though it'll take some time, and you may not be happy with how it looks on you. And…" she looked off, clearly embarrassed about something.

"What is it?" I urged.

"Well, if you're wantin' it to look right, up to date an' all, I'll need better fabric. A cartload of new rolls just arrived, but they're not mine, see, I'd have to buy them, my father's a stickler like that, and… I just spent the last of my allowance on these lessons here - mostly to keep this great thug quiet." She looked apologetic and then blew a curl of hair from her face.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, feeling suddenly quite foolish. "Of course. I still owe you for the other one too."

She quickly shook her head. "No! No, that was a gift, it cost me nothing, and I can make you anything else from the old fabrics, I doubt anyone will be wantin' them. For the new styles though, I'll need to replenish my supplies."

I nodded and told her I would think about it and find her within the next day or so with payment for the fabrics if I decided to go ahead with it. I was hesitant to ask Bofur for money, actually I was terrified to. I idly wondered if he had received any reward for being one of the company to reclaim Erebor. I expected that those details had yet to be sorted out, or else Bofur was just extremely frugal with his money as there had been no indication he was currently rolling in riches.

Bofur waylaid me while I was on my way to my rooms and convinced me to accompany him to dinner. I had really hoped to reach my quarters before he had seen me, as I desperately wished to wash up and change. Nevertheless I was quite hungry, and I had often met Bofur directly after working. He never seemed to mind, and was often just as grimy as I, so why should today be different?

Unfortunately we passed by a few dwarf women just as we entered the small dining hall and I did not miss their crinkled noses and haughty glares - though I suspect Bofur did as he sat down, cheery as ever, while I slumped onto the bench, my anger returning. I tried to manage it as we dished up.

"You know I can read, right?" I said in an off-hand manner as we ate.

"Can you?" Bofur asked incredulously as he cast me a sidelong glance, trying to figure out where exactly I was going with this.

"Yes!" I snapped, and then scowled down at my plate. "Well, not here. I don't know your runes obviously."

"Well now, beautiful and smart, what a catch you are." Bofur quipped cheerfully but I fixed him with an icy stare which succeeded in felling his foolish grin. "Something I said?" he asked after blinking a few times at my stone-cold expression.

"Don't joke." I said bitingly. "You very well know that I'm not." I shoved my plate away and got up, storming off before he could reply.

He caught up to me a ways down the corridor, running up behind me and grabbing my arm to stop me.

"What's wrong?" he asked after he spun me around to face him.

I tossed up my hands, breaking his grip on my arm. "They think I'm a boy!" I exclaimed in frustration. "A lowly, stupid, servant boy."

"I'm pretty sure that you're not a boy." Bofur replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up and his eyes dancing in mirth.

"Just look at me!" I ordered angrily, not impressed by his amusement.

Bofur laid his hands on my upper arms, his expression becoming more serious. "I am." he said, his voice low and calm.

"And?" I asked, my fury beginning to fade into desperation. "What do you see?"

Bofur studied me, his warm brown eyes so full of concern that I felt immediately guilty for my outbreak. He smiled.

"I see the beautiful woman that I am in love with."

I let myself relax somewhat and tried to offer him a look of gratitude.

"But I look nothing like your women." I retorted, frowning down at my rumpled, dirty clothing covering my unshapely body.

"No, perhaps not, but that doesn't make you less beautiful." Bofur assured, sliding his hands up my arms and placing them gently on my shoulders.

"I really am a mess though." I admitted tiredly.

"You don't have to work, you know." he said gently, though his voice was serious.

"I want to." I retorted quickly. "It's not hard work really, and it's nice to feel I'm contributing here."

"But I'm contributing, so you don't need to." Bofur replied, reaching down and taking my hands. "Understand that the dwarrowdams don't work. They do their sewing, occasional craft-making, some might even trade or sell their wares, but physical labour is beneath them. They live lazy and luxurious lives because they can, and it is an honour for a dwarf to be able to support his partner so that she never need dirty her hands... I would do that for you, if you'll let me."

I grinned. "I'm so used to being busy. I don't know if I'd be suited to a life of comfort."

Bofur smiled. "You really are like no other woman I've ever met. Perhaps one day I can convince you to live the pampered and spoiled life I'd like to give to you." he said cheekily. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do?"

I started to shake my head but then stopped, remembering that I did need something. The words were on my tongue, but I was hesitant to ask.

"Actually," I began quietly, my mouth suddenly dry, "well... I need to borrow some coin - if you have any that I might borrow, that is." I grimaced a bit at the awkward question. "And don't ask me why, and I don't know when I can pay you back."

Bofur looked at me, and I looked down at my feet.

He reached into his coat, pulled out a small leather pouch, took up my hand and placed it firmly into it.

"Keep it." he said simply.

I smiled slightly. "No, I will pay you back… In one way or another." I added, biting my lip as I really wasn't sure how to go about earning an actual wage within Erebor.

He grinned mischievously and took a small step towards me. "Oh, I'm sure we can find a way to settle your debt."

The sound of approaching dwarves forced him to step back once more. A dwarrowdam, dressed splendorous, sultry even with the thin braided moustache that was woven into her shining auburn hair, escorted by three well-to-do dwarves. We watched them pass in silence then Bofur looked back to me.

"And don't listen to the dams." he added. "You know what they say about idle hands…"

I glanced once more at the dwarf woman before she disappeared around the corner and then looked back to Bofur, half scowling, half pouting at him even though my mood was already much improved.

"I just don't understand how you could you find me beautiful at all compared to the women here?" I asked despite myself, reaching up and tugging on one of his braids with a small grin to show I wasn't too sour anymore.

He smiled, genuinely, and I felt my heart ache at his touching reply.

"Because you are everything they are not."