Bofur led me away to the sounds of one more raucous farewell. The night was still young, and while I felt awkward leaving the party early, he assured me that many of the revelers would be up for the entire seven days straight - a feat that I could never hope to match in all my life. In any case, it was tradition that the bride and groom spend the first night together, and so we made our way into the depths of the mountain.

The sound followed us for quite some time, and I happily let Bofur lead me on, his bound hand holding mine, as I tried to enshrine into memory as much of the happy event as I could. It was in this haze of euphoria, and perhaps fueled by a little too much to drink, that I lost track of our progress, and only came to when my legs protested the climbing of what they told me was yet another staircase - how many had we climbed even? I held up short on the bottom step, causing Bofur's hand to slip from mine as he began the ascent. The rope pulled him taut and he turned towards me with raised eyebrows.

"You're lost." I stated impishly.

"Lost?" he repeated with mock offense, and so I pushed the issue, emboldened by the evening's never-ending supply of beverages.

"Oh come now, admit it! Let's just find someone to ask for help. Surely there are better things to do on one's wedding night than climb stairs… unless it's a dwarven tradition?" I pretended to think for a moment while biting back a grin. "Is that why there are so few dwarven children? Do newlywed dwarves prefer to admire their own architecture, rather than each other?"

Bofur narrowed one eye at me, tilting his head slightly as he opened his mouth to retort.

Before he could speak, however, I kept going. "Or maybe you're just too drunk? Didn't you once tell me you joined the quest to retake Erebor for the free beer alone? And now you're so drunk as to get us lost on our way back to your chambers."

My teasing finally caused Bofur to grin and he began to descend on me slowly.

"Three things, wife." he rumbled as he took the first step down, "First, I would never get so drunk on such an important night as this, no matter how good the ale."

He took another step down towards me.

I fought hard to resist giggling, willing a serious expression onto my face but having to bite my tongue to sustain it.

"Second, despite such promises of free beer, which weren't delivered upon I might add," he mused with a sidelong glance before continuing, "I happen to have continued on to Erebor because I enjoyed the company - your company in particular."

With another step down he was now standing on the step above me, just above eye level, and I found the angle odd, though not unpleasant.

I could hold back my smile no longer as he placed his hands on my hips, pinning the one of mine bound to his at my side.

"And third. We aren't going to my chambers." A sly grin contorted his face and his eyebrows narrowed conspiratorially. My smile wavered somewhat, the mystery eating away at my playful nature and replacing it with curiosity.

"Then where…" before the question could fully pass my lips, though, Bofur held up a hand to silence me.

"Ah ah ah, that would be telling." He paused a moment, leaning towards me just slightly, a twinkle playing in his eyes. I tilted my head up, slowly bringing my mouth closer to his. He grinned and ghosted his lips across mine before giving my hand a tug to join him up on his step. His fingers encircled my own once again, and before I could say, or do, anything more, he continued the ascent up the unfamiliar stairwell, pulling me along with him.

A short while later, we drew to a stop in a long hallway - one which I didn't recall yet visiting, which was strange as with my cleaning crew I thought for sure we had been to all the more habitable areas. The door we were abreast of was less ornate than the one I was used to, but solid nonetheless. Bofur materialized a key in his free hand, pushed it into the latch and unbolted the door.

"This is my gift to you… to us." he said, and then he suddenly smiled as he shifted me slightly and then scooped me off my feet over his shoulder with his unbound hand, albeit somewhat awkwardly due to his other arm needing to be placed up near his own chest to keep it close to my own.

I laughed and let out a small shriek of mock protest.

"What are you-"

He answered before I could further question his motives.

"Tradition." he replied simply as he carried me across the threshold.

When he set me down, I did a quick precursory sweep of the quarters we were now in. It was sparsely furnished and so I quickly noticed a large wooden barrel being used as a makeshift table off in one corner on which a potted plant was sat. The barrel had distinct markings, rough gouges along the outer wood as if it had once been impaled many times… by arrows? The initial confusion I felt over why such a damaged product would be brought in to use as a decor piece was suddenly replaced by memories of riding down a raging river in just such a barrel.

My eyes then landed on a side wall which, instead of smooth stone like the rest of the area, was lined with aged boards that had a very familiar hue of faded teal once favoured by the homes of Laketown.

My curiosity piqued, I stepped further inside, pulling Bofur gently with me as I did so, and realized with sudden clarity that the room felt much loftier than my own quarters, as the ceilings seemed to be a foot or so higher than what I was used to.

I turned to look back at Bofur and in doing so caught a glimpse of an elegant candle holder on the mantle, one that appeared very similar to ones I'd seen in Rivendell.

"Bofur, is this-" I faltered and studied his face, not wanting to be presumptive. His smile, however, answered my unspoken question.

"Aye, it's ours." he replied happily, taking up both of my hands. "There were only a few private quarters in the mountains more suitable to someone - ah - slightly taller than the average dwarf, and I wanted you to feel more at home here… it'll take a woman's touch of course, I thought you could mostly pick out what you like for it, but I added a few mementos here and there."

I heard his breath come out in a whoosh as I all but flung myself into his arms, squeezing him tight in a pressing hug.

"I love it." I said into his ear, slightly overwhelmed by emotion.

"You haven't even seen the best part yet." Bofur replied after a moment, gently guiding me back a step and then taking up my hand once more.

I could barely contain my excitement when I was led to a curiously thick door at the very back of the apartment, which, when opened, caused my breath to hitch in my chest as a strong gust of wind caught me off guard.

"We have a balcony?" I asked incredulously, swirling back to beam at Bofur once more. "A private balcony?"

I didn't let him answer but instead rushed outside, yanking him along with me. It was small, and would barely accommodate two, maybe three, chairs, but it was perfect.

I stepped up to the thick stone rail and revelled in the view. The massive marble monolith that must be the Front Gate jutted out from the cliff side some distance below and to my right, the smooth surfaces gleaming in the moonlight. To our left the sound of rumbling water echoed from beneath columns of ice that reached down from the mountainside, the tributary of the River Running that even now sought to free itself from winter's final clutches. The most striking feature, however, was also the hardest to miss - Dale.

With its candlelit windows, chimney tops glowing, braziers blazing on the now strong and sturdy walls, the world of men looked a lot less grim than it had when we had first arrived via the waters of the Long Lake. I could see it even now from my high vantage, at the very precipice of my newfound window to the world.

"I don't know how you pulled this off. I haven't seen any private quarters with balconies." I said wryly, shaking my head in disbelief.

Bofur turned slightly to face me. "I couldn't expect you to give up the sun, the wind... the moon and stars," he gestured up towards the night's sky which was, serendipitously, brilliantly clear, "to spend your life under stone." he trailed off somewhat wistfully, looking out across the landscape.

After a moment he continued speaking, but kept his gaze cast towards the budding city of my people.

"Even this is not enough, I know. So I need you to tell me, whenever you need to leave these walls, to feel the grass, the water… but you have to promise to tell me when you need a break. Humans are not meant to live under the earth as dwarves do."

I nodded and then reached my hand up to sweep my fingers along his hair. He met my eye and I gave him a small smile. His thoughtfulness and genuine concern for my future well-being had seriously tugged at my heartstrings and my eyes had become a bit glossy in response.

"I will." I said softly. "And thank you."

I looked out for a minute more, composing myself, and then eventually glanced back at Bofur.

"So you haven't shown me the bedroom yet." I commented in a sweet, oh so casual voice. I twirled my new braid innocently, but was not quite able to prevent a small smirk from playing across my mouth.

Bofur raised his eyebrows at me but seemed to have no objections picking up on my cue to lighten the mood, as he quickly followed suit and helped to dash the solemn atmosphere of the previous few moments.

"Aye, that'll be the second best part." he said with a smile, taking a slow step towards me and mostly closing the distance between us.

"Only the second best?" I asked coyly, my free hand lifting up to toy with his collar. "And here I thought you said you wouldn't get so drunk on such an important night…" My hand trailed idly down to his chest, and then further down. "With all the bragging you do about dwarven stamina, I had expected you to make my night even more memorable than the moon and stars." I taunted with a mock frown, which was dashed in a bout of laughter when he hoisted me back over his shoulder once more.

I was set down in a spacious bedroom, but had little time to truly study the space before we were preoccupied, smiling against each other's lips and pulling each other close. As we trailed our hands over each other's bodies and our actions became more and more lively, I felt the resistance on my wrist suddenly vanish. I let out an "oh!" of surprise as I abruptly stopped and then held up my now freed hand for us both to see.

"Huh, now that is a pity." Bofur mused, lifting his own arm up to examine the cord now dangling limply from his wrist. "Nori always was better at escaping knots than tying them. Shame, I was looking forward to the challenge."

"I'm sure you'll be able to put both hands to good use without it." I remarked with a half shrug, only slightly lamenting that I wouldn't have a 'forever knotted' rope as a keepsake from our handfasting ceremony.

Bofur grinned as he sloughed free of the remaining loop of cord and tossed it out of our way. "Oh I intend to. Come here you!"

He took hold of my hips and tugged me back against him, then his hands travelled up my back, down my arms, up over my breasts, against my neck, into my hair, all while kissing me so deeply that I simply clung to him, no longer trusting my knees to support my whole weight as I was beginning to feel weak and blissfully flustered all over.

Bofur eventually broke away, but kept a steady grip upon me as I caught my breath. He smiled and then ran his hands down my body to grab the hem of my dress. I lifted my arms as he pulled it up over my head, but before he could toss it to the floor I stilled his hand and took it from him.

"Méra would have my head if it got a wrinkle." I explained as I laid it gently out on the back of a nearby chair, knowing I would also be wearing it again for the remainder of the celebration. "I think she nearly killed herself trying to make it in time."

Bofur nodded in understanding as I turned back to him. He made a point of trailing his eyes over me, yet he said nothing and made no move towards me.

I bit my lip, wondering where his thoughts had taken him, hoping he was simply admiring the flattering handiwork of my wedding undergarments.

"You finally don't have to feel guilty now, right?" I asked softly after a moment, taking a small step back closer to him.

Bofur suddenly seemed to shake himself of his reverie, and he reached out his hands and beckoned me closer, his expression filling with warmth. I put my hands in his, and he gently pulled me back into his arms.

"There will be no more sneaking in and out of your rooms." he commented, pushing my hair off my shoulder and planting a kiss against my collarbone. "Now we can spend every night together if you wish."

He turned me around, moving my hair aside once more before kissing the back of my neck. I felt his fingers begin to play about the ties at the bottom of my corset.

"Yes." I replied simply albeit somewhat breathlessly as a few more hot kisses trailed along my shoulders while the lacing of the bodice began to loosen. Finally with a few good tugs, I was free of the thing. I spun back around, feeling suddenly energized by my newfound freedom and flexibility, and pushed myself back against Bofur, kissing him on the lips with happy enthusiasm.

Now I thought it my turn to try to make him become hot and breathless, which was always more of a challenge as he was never quite as easily addled as I was. Nevertheless, I didn't want to leave any room in his mind to question whether or not he had just made the right decision; forgoing his people's traditions, perhaps even contravening the sanctity of his first marriage, by choosing to take me as his wife.

I began administering my ravishings on him with an energy I hadn't quite mustered since before the Battle of the Five Armies. I nipped up his neck and to his jawline, while sliding his new jacket down off his shoulders and pushing it to the floor (he seemed to have no such reservations about wrinkled garments and let it lie). I then slowly began to unbuckle the thick belt about his waist while capturing and recapturing his mouth, sometimes fussing with his bottom lip, gently biting or sucking on it before going back to kissing him with more fervour.

After the belt followed his coat to the floor with a resolute thud, I paused with a smile and slid my hands over the new black tunic he was sporting. The fabric was surprisingly silky to the touch, and compared to the rougher homespun linens and leathers Bofur usually wore, it was quite the delicate piece of apparel for him. I enjoyed the contrast of the soft fabric gliding across his muscles, and so moved my hands appreciatively from his chest to his shoulders and then down his arms before finally taking hold of the tunic and prompting him to help me take it off.

I pressed myself against him then, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing up along his cheek towards his ear. His arms tightened around my middle and then I pushed with all my weight so he got the cue to start taking steps backward. When he reached the edge of the bed, I gave him a playful shove up onto it and then followed promptly behind, hiking up my underskirt so that I could settle myself and sit on his legs. Before he could say, or do anything to distract me, I leant forward and began placing lingering kisses down his chest and to his stomach, and then began to linger around his pant line, but went no lower than that. I grinned to myself as I continued to tease him, getting the sense he was finally beginning to feel uncomfortably aroused - given the fact that his breathing was becoming slightly uneven, and his fingers had found their way to and were now bunched in my hair. He did not try to guide me to do anything more though, he was not such a scoundrel as that, and so I continued to lavish his lower abdomen with attention while my hands massaged his thighs.

Eventually he slid his hand under my chin and forced me to stop. I sat up slightly and he followed suit, his arm snaking around my waist while the other, in a more tender display, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Do you realize what you do to me?" he asked, his voice low and somewhat husky and his eyes dancing with fire.

I licked my lips, trying not to smirk, but before I could respond, he had pulled me in and claimed my mouth with a hunger and intensity that left little room for thought. I parted my lips and his tongue conquered the depths of my mouth, causing me to melt against him. His desire for me felt suddenly heightened, more so than ever before, as he grabbed hold of my hips and tugged me closer still. I briefly wondered if he had been holding back before, if some level of guilt about our pairing had always inhibited him, even just subconsciously. I didn't linger on the thought, however, and soon just lost myself to the raw sensations of touch, and desire. He was overwhelming all my senses, and when I next had a moment to clear my head, I was already on my back, my shift was off and nowhere in sight and Bofur was between my legs, kissing the bare skin on my thigh above my stocking. He muttered something softly in Khuzdul as he ran his hand up the length of my leg before gently taking hold of the fine lace garter.

"Don't stop." I urged softly, feeling somewhat hesitant with the request and unsure if he would grant me my wish, but wanting to revisit the slight shiver I had felt hearing him speak his own tongue in such an intimate manner.

Bofur paused, his eyes meeting mine, and then his lip twisted up in a small grin. "Oh, so you do like it when I whisper naughty somethings that you can't understand?" he enquired, his voice taking on a slight teasing edge.

I pursed my lips at him, not wanting him to break the mood with banter. Thankfully he seemed just as willing to carry on with the task at hand, and, eyes still locked on mine, pulled the ribbon free. I tried not to squirm as he tossed it aside and began to ease the stocking down my leg in the most deliciously slow manner.

"Zi abnâmul badgûna. Labathmizi."

My first exposure to Khuzdul had left me thinking it such a grating language to the ear, being so consonant driven and, if spoken with emphasis, harsh to behold. Now, however, with Bofur's fine voice mumurming it, softening the edges, slowing it down, all the while fixing me with heated looks in between placing hot, firm kisses up my now bare legs, I was practically quivering with anticipation.

"Azralizi nâmrul."

I tossed my head back into the pillow, allowing myself to moan as he brought me closer and closer to bliss. Before I could fall over the edge, he stopped to divest us both of our last remaining articles of clothing, and then he was on top of me, in me, and I revelled in the feeling of his skin against mine, of his breath in my ear, of his hands possessively gripping me, holding me until we crashed over the wave together.

I awoke sometime later to Bofur lavishing attention on my breasts, and became aware of his hand between my legs. I was slightly surprised to find I was already mostly aroused, but also still felt sleep heavy on my limbs. I stretched slightly and shifted, sighing with relaxed contentment, and then let Bofur take me again as I draped a loose arm around his neck. When through, I snuggled into his side once more and expressed how much I loved him. He returned the sentiment and then I allowed myself to fully succumb to my tiredness; an easy task since I felt more peaceful than I had ever remembered, for I was with my husband. Safe. Happy. Loved. It was better than any dream I could hope to fall into.

Bofur couldn't sleep. No. Not tonight, Not on his wedding night. He felt compelled to commit every single moment of it to memory, and so, even long after his bride had drifted into slumber, he remained awake, idly watching her sleeping form as he recalled all the day's (and night's) events - etching then into his mind with as much detail as he could recall. His indulgence in a goodly amount of drink at the celebration was making it difficult to ward off the temptation to close his eyes, even just for a few minutes… But no. Somehow it seemed so important, to savour every moment, every second, so he would not sleep, not on this night.

He tried, and failed, to remember how it had been at his first wedding. Did it feel like this? Sure, it had not been an exceedingly momentous affair. But aside from the spectacle of a dwarven-human union, and being Erebor's first wedding under the new King's rule, had he felt the same sense of gravity when he looked upon his new wife? Had he been as driven to relish each passing moment of the wedding and night thereafter? Did his heart feel quite as full after they had finally and officially sealed their courtship with braids and rings?

He was unsure.

Dwarves had keen memories, aye, but as the years slipped away, so too did much of the nuances of true feeling from his previous marriage. Of course he could still vividly recount much of the happenings of his former wedding and subsequent life with his first love - but raw emotions were not as easily committed to memory. Bofur was now beginning to doubt the age old saying; only One can sway the heart of a Dwarf.

How could that be true? He was near beginning to wonder if his feelings this time around were stronger. He had been happy with his first wife, of that he was certain, and he had surely loved her (why else would he have coveted the leather hat she had made him to the point of unhealthy obsession?) In fact, he had entered into matrimony with her fully believing at the time that he had felt the primal connection, the instinctual pull, that dwarves were supposed to when they are united with their One and only.

And yet, he couldn't quite remember if his heart had beaten faster in his chest whenever he saw her smiling at him, and he wasn't sure if his blood had burnt hot in his veins when they were physically intimate. And had he ever watched her sleep with a heady mixture of disbelief and elation while thanking the maker that the stars had somehow aligned and, against all odds, all hope, they had wound up together?

He was confused. And this caused a small bubble of anxiety to nag away at his otherwise blissful state. Though perhaps his existential questioning of ancient dwarven instincts was not the only thing causing a slight apprehension to form round the edges of his contentedness when his eyes focused on the woman beside him.

Unbidden, his mind flickered back to a few snippets of conversation he recalled from the celebrations during the times she wasn't by his side; interactions with dwarves that could perhaps use a lesson or two in tact. One question, which was alluded to several times, was eventually asked of him more bluntly by a dam that at least seemed more curious than antagonizing with her query: does her mortality not bother you?

The more he thought about it, he realized that perhaps it actually did - but in a more roundabout way then what he was sure most would assume. Her naturally shorter lifespan he could accept without much furor. He was not a young dwarf after all, and the years would be starting to catch up with him sooner rather than later as well. Sure, she would inevitably age more quickly than a dam, but when she became well and truly old, he would likely be sporting some white hair and a penchant for a slower lifestyle as well. Bofur scowled to himself as he recalled one dwarf who had the audacity to point out that she wouldn't have too many years left where she would be vibrant enough to indulge in her more 'humanly' desires to frequently invite him to dance beneath the blankets. This dwarf had wondered if Bofur would regret his decision in a mere decade or so (a trifle amount of time really) when his bedroom activities with the lass slowed down. Whether or not they were spurned by too much drink, Bofur had still resisted the urge to give the daft fellow a good smack upside the head for his crass words - or at least he had no opportunity to follow through with his urge, for at that moment Bifur had appeared beside him and guided him away for a drink, with a very firm hold on his arm.

Bofur took a moment and studied her once more. She was breathing softly, cradling a pillow and laying half on her stomach. Her blonde hair was tousled around her face, partially obscuring it. The blanket was only pulled up halfway, and so he could see most of the expanse of her smooth back, only marred by the scarring from her shoulder injury (he bluntly pushed that memory aside, for it was too dark for such a night as this). She was truly lovely, aye, and he would be eternally grateful that she was gifting him the last of her youth, for it was a wondrous thing to behold. He could never quite believe her willingness to be close to him. Her desire for him was near baffling, yet he wasn't going to question it, and of course he wasn't going to take it for granted while it lasted. But looking at her then, Bofur knew that he would love her no less when the years began to show on her body, when she only wanted to sleep beside him and no longer wished for anything more. He would still cherish her, for as long as she was his to cherish. His heart would still be full, even when their nights were ever only spent in the quiet company of one another. No, her mortality alone did not bother him, but he had a fear that he would lose her, by some means or another, before he expected to - and her mortality helped to fuel this fear.

Dwarves did not idly fall, and premature loss of life was oft only seen in battle when younger dwarves could be slain, so an early death of a dwarrowdam was a rare occurrence. Yet since his first marriage was cut so tragically short, Bofur could not help but worry that this one would be as well, especially given that his new bride was a human. Humans really were just so fragile. She could catch an illness, cut herself and become infected, trip and fall off one of Erebor's freeways (luckily new gold handrails and parapets were being reconstrued to replace some that Smaug had torn off for his hoard), heck it seemed like even a bit of bad pork could put her at death's door.

How could he keep her safe?

That was the main problem.

He couldn't.

Perhaps that was why he felt that every passing second with her was somehow significant. Perhaps that was why he could not sleep, and felt so blessed but also plagued with a small, albeit constant, apprehension. Perhaps that was why he bristled when anyone made a negative remark that alluded to her humanity, and could barely stomach comments that suggested he was making a mistake.

He loved her.

He loved her so much that his happiness was palpable. He loved her so much that the fear of losing her was nearly just as strong.

He loved her enough to begin wondering if she was the One.