We slipped through Dale's gates unnoticed. For all the training the city's warriors had endured since the Battle of the Five Armies, many of them were still just playing soldier. The lure of the festival had drawn some of them away well before the incident, and those that had remained on watch duty abandoned their posts as soon as the explosion bloomed into the sky. The north gate faced Erebor, after all, and the men of Dale had been assured by leaders on both sides that no threats would come from the mountain.

Rather than crossing the causeway, we descended the banks of the river down into the shadowed recesses of the frozen river, where several ram carts sat waiting in the care of dwarves I did not recognize. Dwalin spoke quick words to one of the drivers, and then he and I clamored into the cart and were soon racing across the frigid valley towards the Lonely Mountain.

I sat facing backwards, in part to shelter myself from the icy winds that tore at my hair and cut through my clothing, but mostly to hide my face from my rescuer. I would not cry - I did not feel so hopeless as to allow myself that release. I knew Hall would have been nowhere near the explosion, and the rest of his family was smart enough to handle themselves. So it was not that I felt grief over their loss, but the loss of a part of myself, for I knew that the moment I set foot back in the grand halls of Erebor, a newfound part of myself would lost.

Eleanor would be dead.

We drew near the grand walls of the mountain kingdom in the hours of the early morning. In our flight, I had seen the blaze in Dale dwindle down, and eventually vanish, and I hoped that some small level of order would be restored in getting the fires under control. Based on the position of the stars, and the setting of the moon, dawn was still a long way off, and I knew for the people of Dale it would be a long, cold, dark night.

Erebor, on the other hand, radiated golden light and warmth through its vast entranceway. From the ramparts, and from further within, I could hear the din of a hundred conversations, some in Khuzdul, some in the common tongue, yet I could tell they were all held in the grip of the same morbid excitement.

I had witnessed the same feeling of mixed horror and curiosity in Bree once, several years back, when a child ran out into the street in front of a racing carriage. The child had been trampled nearly to death, and without any modesty most of the passers by simply stared and watched. My employer was among them, drawn out by the steady stream of patrons leaving his bar, and he had been one of the first to strike up an uncouth conversation. Barely more than a child myself at that time, I remembered feeling repelled by their uncaring attitude, but now, I could hardly blame them. Middle Earth was a dark place, and having lived through some of the most traumatic events in recent history, I understood that such terrors must be looked at with some degree of detachment; otherwise they would overwhelm even the stoutest of hearts and minds.

I was happy when the cart finally came to a stop just under the entranceway of the mountain and was grateful for Dwalin's help as he pulled my stiff form to my feet. I hugged myself, rubbing my frozen hands on my arms, and yet an odd sensation of warm relief grew within me as soon as I took a few tentative steps inside Erebor. I nearly felt that I could simply forget everything that had just happened; pretend that my time in Dale was nothing more than a dream, something that no longer weighed on my thoughts and which had no jurisdiction over my future. This feeling was amplified as soon as my eyes fell upon Bofur, who was turned with his back to me speaking to a group of dwarves that seemed familiar.

"Get on with it." Dwalin urged quietly from alongside me as he drew abreast, following the line of my gaze. "Dain will no' be needing yeh for some time yet."

I tentatively took a step forward, and then a few more, the hubbub from around me quieting as those nearby became aware of the strange situation unfolding in their midst. Bofur, though, seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere, and went on talking until I was nearly upon them. The dwarves he was with, many of the same as those who had been at the tavern with him weeks earlier, were all turning their attention from him to me, and though it was hard to tell from under their varying degrees of facial hair, I was sure most of them wore some small look of surprise.

"Well, frost my beard!" Harrik finally announced in surprise, looking at me speculatively over Bofur's shoulder. "Bofur, what in the Blue Mountains is your tavern maid doing here?"

Bofur turned about hurriedly, causing the bends of his hat to flap wildly as though it were a startled bird trying to escape the head it had perched on. It was semi-successful, twisting to half cover one eye and tugging his braids askew. After the night's events, that one small, goofy thing was what set me grinning like a fool, and I had to quickly lift a hand to my mouth to stifle a bout of laughter, for fear that I would be seen and judged for making light of a terrible situation.

Bofur had no such reservations. He closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, and just like that I was in his arms once more, and I knew that there was no further animosity between us. He had forgiven me, and I had forgiven him, and in that moment we would likely have forgave each other of all the wrongs we had ever done or ever could do. I dipped my head to press it against his, and then he lifted his lips to place a tender kiss on my brow.

"Durin knows how much I've missed you."

I had missed him too, but then, I knew he knew that.

When we finally separated enough to take stock on the world around us, I could hear Bofur's work companions half-whispering nearby, clearly in some debate as to what exactly was going on. Finally, Harrik piped in for clarification.

"Ah... Bofur lad? What about your future wife?"

Dwalin spared us the delicate task of a complicated explanation by taking the blunt approach.

"That is his intended, you git."

This seemed to clear up the situation for most of the dwarves, but for one or two others (who seemed to have been turning to drink to pass the time in the wee hours of the morning, or perhaps had not yet stopped drinking since evening) it only muddied things further.

"Steady on there, you mean tah tell me Bofur's pledged himself ta th' tavern wench we met less than a fortnight ago? I do no' remember that part o' the night one bit! Bet pledging yourself to her's not all ya did eh?" The dwarf gyrated his hips vulgarly, but was cut short of any further embarrassment as Dwalin delivered a deft blow to the dwarf's gut. As the dwarf began to double over, Dwalin grabbed him by the scruff of the tunic and held him aloft.

"I'm off to have a little chat with this one." He stated gruffly, but before leaving he added to Bofur "Best brace yourself lad. Here comes more trouble."

I quickly understood to which Dwalin was referring when suddenly I was wretched out of Bofur's arms and embraced by another dwarf, one with wild, red locks that invaded my mouth and nose.

Méra.

I greeted her warmly, and yet when she attempted to commandeer me I hesitated, not wanting to miss the opportunity to hear any updates from Dale. I voiced my concerns, yet Méra continued to insist I accompany her to 'freshen up.'

"Go. Rest, relax." Bofur ordered gently. "It'll be a while yet before we lot are informed of anything, there's no use waiting here."

I eventually acquiesced, grabbing onto Bofur's hand and squeezing it in farewell before Méra took hold of my elbow and promptly led me away. Even though my longer legs gave me a larger stride, I soon found I was nearly being dragged towards the mountain's heart.

"Been rather dull here since you've left, you know." she commented. "I nearly had a mind to be extractin' you myself if you'd been gone much longer."

I smiled and reflected on the fact that I had only been in Dale a month, and yet it had truly felt like a much greater amount of time had passed. Apparently I was not alone in this sensation.

In short order I was enjoying a hot soak in the King's bath, idly listening to Méra curse and hiss as she stood behind me while attempting to strip my hair free of the darkened colour.

"I think you've had it in too long, it's all soaked in like." she commented grumpily after urging me to duck down and rinse once more. "Don't fret though; I have one more thing I can try."

After scrubbing my locks with a rather harsh smelling ground root which caused my scalp to tingle, Méra helped me rinse once more and was much more satisfied with the results.

"It may be a wee bit dry, but I'll put some oil in to tame it down." Méra explained a bit later when I was towelling my hair. "At least you look like you again." she added with a smile.

"I'm starting to feel more like me again." I agreed. I was somewhat revelling in the lavishness of the royal quarters, the sheer size and glamour of it. I hadn't realized how much I missed having such open space about me. I donned my new festival dress once more, as I hadn't the chance to retrieve any other garments, and allowed Méra to finish styling my hair. Having grown some, it was now just touching my shoulders, and it took a moment for me to get used to my normal blonde locks, no longer weighed down with the heavy colour. She weaved in two small braids to frame my face and applied lightly scented oil to the rest of it, creating a pleasing shine throughout my golden waves.

As much as I was enjoying the company of my old friend, I began to feel my body protesting the missed night of sleep. Méra graciously complied with my wishes and walked with me to my chambers to allow me the chance of a few hours rest. Upon entering my old quarters, I felt a rush of gratitude to whoever had anticipated my arrival and presumptively lit the hearth fire and a few candles within. I trailed my hand over the back of my chair, looking around my large, lovely living quarters with a sigh of contentment. I ignored the nagging at the back of my mind - the worry over those in Dale, the need to discover exactly what happened, the desire to see Bofur - and I allowed myself to simply grab my pillow and blanket from my bed, lie down on the cosy rug in front of the fire, and doze off into a warm, restful sleep.

I started awake at the sound of my door opening, but relaxed again when a familiar voice softly floated through the air, permeating my still groggy senses.

"What have we here now? My poor lass has clearly spent too long away from comforts, for now she can only bear to sleep on the hard floor instead of her large, feathered bed."

I smiled, stretching and turning towards Bofur who was leaning against my doorframe, looking at me with a happy glint in his eye. I sat up and reached out my hand, beckoning him towards me.

"It was warm here, and I didn't want to sleep too long." I said by way of explanation for my choice of napping spot as he circled around the furniture towards me. "And shouldn't you have knocked?" I added with teasing severity.

He kneeled down beside me, placing his hand alongside my face and planting a quick kiss on my forehead.

"I did knock." he retorted with a grin. "And it's a good thing you gave me a key to your rooms while you were away or else you may have gone into full hibernation - it's near on dusk. You must have slept better than you thought."

I smiled sheepishly and uttered a small 'oh.' Bofur smiled in return, trailing his hand up into my hair and arranging it slightly.

"Nice to see this fair hair of yours again. I've missed it... And I've missed you." he commented, his eyes crinkling happily at the corners as he looked over my face with a tender fondness that made my chest tighten with emotion. Though I felt somewhat shy, as if our time apart had caused a slight fissure between us that I was still attempting to navigate. Perhaps I was still inadvertently holding onto Eleanor. My thoughts trailed to Hall, and I wondered what had become of him. Before I could open my mouth to speak, Bofur had leaned into me, placing a questioning kiss upon my lips. With his help I returned to myself, to my former mindset. I remembered that he was the most important person in my life, and I managed to push thoughts of all else out of my head for a time as I became reacquainted with the one I loved.

I don't quite know how a whole week managed to slip by without my notice, yet I didn't really mind. I hadn't fully realized how truly tiring it had been to be in disguise, constantly monitoring myself and feeling on edge, and I now felt a sense of light, giddy freedom to be able to drop all pretences and just be me again. I didn't even mind so much the judgement from those more traditional dwarves that simply frowned upon my basic 'human-ness' at being in Erebor, but instead found joy from interacting with the dwarves I almost now considered family.

I did find some annoyance, however, in how closed-mouthed everyone seemed to be regarding the incident in Dale. All I could really garner was that it was being 'taken care of' and was told simply 'not to worry.' I was assured that Bard and his children were perfectly safe and that the merchant family I had known was alive, but despite my persistence, I was still not privy to more detailed information about that night's events and the fall-out. My irritation at being so excluded despite my direct involvement was all but ignored, and I felt no reservations grumbling about how that would be the last time I would do the dwarves a favour.

One afternoon I was keeping Méra company while she worked at pinning together swaths of fabric for a new nightgown. I was given the thrilling task of sorting through an old box of lacing, yet, since I had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do, I rather enjoyed lazily wasting away the day in such a manner, listening to the vibrant young woman chatter about this and that. During a lull in her stories I enquired about the date, having lost track since returning to the mountain. Upon hearing it I let out a small noise of surprise.

"It's my birthday tomorrow, I had almost forgotten." I commented idly, examining a piece of stained ribbon and promptly deciding it was destined for the rubbish pile.

Méra's head snapped up from her work, and when I glanced at her I saw she had a look of gleeful excitement across her face. I frowned instantly.

"It's nothing to make a fuss about." I assured her quickly. I had not celebrated my day of birth in any way since my father had passed. I had really only acknowledged it to ensure I kept proper track of my age and, in the past, to lament another year lost. It was typically just a recurring mark of my continued dread at growing older and losing what little chance I had to have any prospects of an enjoyable life. Things were much different now however.

"Oh, but we must do something!" Méra lamented, practically bouncing in her seat with eagerness.

I raised my eyebrows at her.

"You can't expect me to believe that dwarves celebrate their birthdays each year, not when you get so many of them." I stated tartly.

"Well no." she replied, deflating somewhat. "Not every birthday, as bairns we often do, and then just important milestones after that. But it's different for you, we should-"

"I don't want it to be different for me." I interrupted. "Please, don't even mention it to anyone."

Méra pouted dramatically but, given my stern tone, didn't protest any further.

"At least tell me how old you'll be?" she asked quite delicately a few minutes later.

"No!" I laughed. I wasn't actually grumpy at her, but I knew it was too much to hope that she'd so easily drop a topic that I wished to no longer discuss. "The whole age difference thing, you'll think it too strange." I told her.

"I like strange." she tossed her hair back and grinned. "That's the whole reason I like you. Besides, you forget that I'm actually educated, I know all about the differences between the races and what not. It won't shock me."

"Fine." I huffed. "I'll be twenty-five."

I saw her eyes shimmer and her face contort as if she wanted to laugh or shriek or do some other such unmannerly response, but I cut her off and was able to quickly divert her attention.

"Are there any other differences then? ...Besides height and facial hair?" I enquired.

She managed to compose herself and sucked her lip thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, I wasn't so sure this was true myself, that is, until you started coming to me to pilfer my supplies, but you get your moon cycle much more frequently than we."

I blushed hotly. "Who else was I to ask?" I questioned with a timid smile. "I don't think the likes of Ori... or say, Dwalin, would much appreciate having to go on a mission to track down womanly effects for me."

Méra burst into a fit of giggles. "Imagine the look on Dwalin's face! He'd do it for you, I'm certain, but it would be torture for him. Ori would just likely be the first dwarf ever to die from embarrassment. Why not Bofur? He doesn't seem the squeamish type."

"You'd be surprised." I retorted, and then shook my head. I'm sure he was now aware of my cycles, but I still preferred to keep certain parts of my life private from him. It had been difficult enough on the long journey to Laketown, though one small boon from certain traumas along the way was that my course became very inconsistent, and often just non-existent.

"It's not every month for you then?" I asked curiously.

Méra smiled. "It's not but thrice a year for us dwarrowdams."

"That seems hardly fair." I groused, scowling somewhat with envy. "Anything else?"

Méra gave me a sneaky sideways glance like a clever fox and got up, slowly sauntering closer to where I was seated. "There may be another difference, though it's not a topic that two unwed and innocent maidens, such as we, should be discussin'."

"Now of course you must tell me." I demanded with a smile.

She grinned and picked up a new stretch of patterned fabric from the table I was working at, looking it over closely. I could tell she was just enjoying making me wait before she chose to divest her information, ensuring that I became extra curious while she took her time.

"'Tis said amongst our people that humans are like rabbits." she said finally, glancing at me once more before sliding my lace box away from me and beginning to pick through it herself. I stared at her a moment in confusion and she eventually looked up, giving me a knowing stare.

"...because we are easy prey?" I offered.

She huffed and threw a few ribbons into the air. "No! Though I suppose that is also true too..." she hesitated, looking at me again with a scandalous grin. "It's because you're known to... you know, couple, a lot more than dwarves or elves do. But of course, you would know nothing of all that yet."

I tactfully didn't respond to her implication, but instead asked another question, despite my mortification. "What is considered... a normal amount for dwarves?" I ventured, trying to keep my tone conversationally light while mentally reproaching myself for not just sticking to the far less embarrassing topic of my birthday.

Méra shrugged. "A few times a year, give or take, I'd wager. That's why our children are born so rarely. But when a new dwarf is born," she sucked in her breath for emphasis, "the mountains themselves shudder! The celebrations can last for weeks, you know."

"I see." I didn't quite know how to otherwise reply.

"There was some talk," she continued, her voice taking on a slight edge of seriousness, "it's mostly stopped now since you've been away, but some had noticed how often you and Bofur seem to be unsupervised. Don't worry, you'll find no judgement from me, and I've stemmed as many rumours as I could." she added quickly with a reassuring wink after noticing my expression had turned troublesome. "But I take it that the rigid courtship rules haven't always been followed then?"

I bit my lip but decided to be honest, Méra had never wavered in her loyalty towards me and I knew I could trust her with anything.

I smiled weakly. "We tried... well, he tried. Perhaps there isn't as much pressure," I carried on, trying to explain, "for us to follow all the traditions, that is, since nothing about us is traditional. We're not in a real dwarven courtship - we can't be - since he was married before and I'm obviously not a dwarf... and it's not as if we had 'saved' ourselves for each other."

Méra nodded. "Ah. So you did manage to lure him in. No fault of your own, like I said, we're different, it's just... biology." she concluded happily.

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again, my face feeling flushed once more. I didn't recall that I had always been the one to... initiate, had I? No, definitely not.

"It's not always my fault." I retorted somewhat defensively, though I couldn't help but smile as well.

Méra peered at me, smirking. "Then he must be besotted with you indeed. Just heed my warning; you're not being as sneaky as you think you are when you pull that lover of yours into your chambers. Don't want people to get the wrong impression, now do we?"

I nodded, somewhat glumly.

"You know the solution though, don't you?" she asked lightly, twirling away and resuming her seat.

After I didn't respond she sighed but smiled at me with some degree of pity and equal parts amusement.

"Hurry up and marry the poor lad."

Méra's sage, albeit somewhat teasing advice ran through my head that evening at dinner. I snuck sidelong glances at Bofur while I ate, thinking it over. I wasn't sure what exactly would be involved in a dwarven wedding, but other than arranging what was absolutely necessary, I couldn't see any reason to stall much longer. Bofur caught me looking at him and winked, and I grinned, making up my mind.

After we were through with our meal, I asked Bofur to join me in a walk, to which he happily obliged. We wandered somewhat beyond the less crowded areas, Bofur choosing a path that avoided many of the narrow, arching bridges that I still rather disliked walking across for fear of stumbling, tipping off and falling to my untimely death. I waited for a lull in one of his stories to breach the subject that was on my mind. I slowed my pace somewhat and glanced at him with a small smile. He noticed and lifted a querying eyebrow at me.

"I was wondering lately, whether or not there is a reason, to delay our marriage much longer?" I asked, carefully keeping my tone light and conversational.

Bofur stopped walking, turning to look at me with an odd, though clearly not unhappy expression.

"No." he replied simply. "Nothing really that can't be worked around."

"Then what are we waiting for?" I questioned.

The corner of his mouth tugged up. "For you to set the date, of course." he stated, grabbing my hand and giving it a rough squeeze.

I blinked a few times, temporarily unable to formulate a reply. When I finally got my thoughts in order I unleashed them on the dwarf before me.

"Wait. That's up to me?" I tugged my hand out of Bofur's and ran it through my hair. "You've been waiting for me to decide this whole time? You might have been waiting forever. I didn't know! I thought - I don't know - I thought that we had to be assigned a day, or that you would sort it, or-"

Bofur stopped my ravings, grabbing hold of my wrists, stilling me, and then running his hands up to encircle my upper arms. He looked somewhat bemused even though a frown creased his forehead.

"'Tis custom for the bride-to-be to decide. I'm sorry, lass, for some reason I assumed you might have known."

I shook my head, somewhat distraught. How many other obvious traditions and rules was I completely oblivious to?

"Ah, no harm done... did you have a date in mind then?" Bofur asked tentatively.

I smiled and shrugged, then turned away from him and began carrying on with our walk.

"I can choose any day?" I enquired after a few paces.

"Yep, so long as it isn't a marked dwarven festival or the like, otherwise the calendar is yours to command."

I mulled it over for a moment then halted in my tracks, swinging around to look at Bofur once more.

"What about a fortnight from now? Would that be enough time to get everything in order?"

Bofur looked momentarily surprised, but then he smiled, his eyes lighting up in the way I so adored.

"Aye," he nodded, "I reckon Dain owes us both enough favours that he'd be willing to be a tad accommodating."

"Two weeks then." I confirmed with a grin. I stepped closer to Bofur, putting my hands on his shoulders. "I need you to assume that I know nothing of weddings. Now, tell me what to do."