I awoke the next morning more refreshed than I thought possible after such a long night. Bofur had risen early, I suspected, as I had roused sometime prior and could not feel the weight of him, but the sweet call of sleep had lured me back into slumber for a time. He was still absent when I woke again, and so I rose, but then had to grip the bedpost for a moment as a slight wave of dizziness made my head swim - I frowned, knowing I hadn't actually indulged in that much drink during the party. I sipped from a cup of water near the bedside until I felt better and then pulled a sheet over my shoulders before making my way to find Bofur. It was not until I was wandering barefoot through the suite of rooms that I found out why I had likely slept so deeply - realizing that as much as I had grown used to the still, cool air of Erebor, there was still no replacement at night for a good bit of fresh air, undistilled by the dusty network of ducts and vents that traversed the mountain unseen.
I drew my makeshift cover tighter about myself as another gust blew in from the balcony door, which had been left slightly ajar overnight and let in both the natural light and the stiff mountain breeze. Though it had been energizing to wake up to such clean, crisp air while still under the heap of sheets and furs Bofur had acquired for us, the cool wind now rose goosebumps on my arms and I had to stifle a shiver as I clutched my sheet with one hand and eased the door open with the other.
I was slightly relieved to see Bofur out there (for I would have felt somewhat cross if he had left to rejoin our wedding festivities without me). He had been resting against the back wall staring out at the landscape, now flooding with the golden light of the rising sun as it crested the ridge that stretched off to the southeast, but he turned and gave me a bright smile as I stepped outside to join him.
I noticed what he held aloft in his hand, and then clucked my tongue.
"Oh, now I see who this balcony was really for." I commented, shaking my head slightly in mock admonishment as I approached him. "So you could come out here and smoke without me harping at you."
Bofur held up his free hand in defense. "Hold on now, for a husband to leave his wife on her wedding night would be breaking tradition, and since I know better than to smoke inside…"
I lifted my fingers up to entwine them in his, leaning in to place him a kiss on the cheek to ease his defensiveness.
"I'm only teasing." I said lightly. "I don't mind... so long as you don't make my nice fresh air all smoky every time I'm out here with you."
Bofur tipped his head cordially and made a show of putting out his pipe, knocking the ashes out over the railing. He then stowed it away and took up my hand once more, bringing my fingers up to his mouth to brush a kiss along my knuckles.
"And good morning, wife." he said afterwards with a smile, giving my hand a small squeeze before releasing it.
"It is a good morning." I agreed as I turned and leaned back against his chest, sighing happily as his arms circled around me. We enjoyed the sunrise for a good long while until the chill of the morning air finally made me shiver, just slightly, but enough for Bofur to usher us both inside. I went back to the bedroom and quickly replaced the sheet for my shift and underskirt, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull on my stockings. Bofur leaned on the doorframe and watched me, though the intensity of his gaze made me blush slightly.
"Last night was…" he began, but then seemed to falter as he took a few meandering steps into the room. I smiled nervously at his hesitation.
"Good?" I offered hopefully, though somewhat weakly. I could hardly bear the thought of having let him down in some manner, of it being a disappointment - it certainly didn't seem like it had been at the time - but the masochistic part of my brain began to wonder if he was now comparing it to his first wedding night. What had it been like with her? Had it been better?
"Good?!" Bofur repeated incredulously and with such gusto that it broke my pattern of thought before it could run away to dark places. He came up to the bed and then forced me to part my legs slightly so he could stand between them.
"If it was only just 'good' for you, then I've been remiss in my duties as a new husband." he said, his voice dropping slightly. He ran his hands slowly up the outer sides of my legs before grabbing from me the pink ribbon I had been toying with. He then guided it under my thigh, and I grinned as he pulled the lacing tight and into a tidy bow at the top of my stocking.
"Last night took my breath away, and I'll always remember it." I assured him softly, meeting his eyes. Bofur smiled and slid a hand behind my neck before leaning in to rest his forehead against mine.
"Aye, it was memorable indeed." he agreed, then he shifted and brought his cheek to mine and softly said another phrase of Khuzdul close to my ear.
Though I tried not to react, my body must have responded in some small manner, enough for him to pick up on, as when he leaned back to study me, he had a smirk on his lips and a knowing twinkle in his eye.
"If that's all I have to do to arouse you, then my job is going to be almost too easy." he remarked playfully, though his voice still had a roguish edge to it.
I narrowed my eyes and swatted at his chest. "I'm not aroused already."
"Maybe not yet... but if I were to continue…" he deftly tied the remaining ribbon around my other leg. "You do like it though… Why?"
His question, I thought, was posed innocently and without judgment, and so I smiled and shrugged before draping my arms over his shoulders.
"I'm not sure." I replied slowly, then bit my lip, thinking it through for a moment before continuing. "Perhaps because your language is so forbidden." I raked my hands down to his chest. "Or because I don't know what you're saying... Also, the way you say it certainly helps." I added as an afterthought.
"For all you know, I could just be reciting a list of Bombur's rash creams." he remarked, lifting his eyebrows up ponderously.
"But you're not." I retorted with a smile, squeezing my thighs against him slightly.
"No. I'm not." Bofur agreed as he slid his hands up my back and attempted to draw me closer.
I, however, protested and managed to scramble out of his clutches, escaping by crawling over the bed and off the other side. I felt I now needed to prove that he couldn't actually make me come undone at the seams by simply uttering one phrase in his first language. That, and I also didn't want us to be too late in rejoining our own celebrations. I went to retrieve my corset and then held it up questioningly to Bofur, knowing I would need his help to do it all up properly.
He groaned in response before I had even said anything. "Just leave it off, I'm sure no one will notice!"
I scoffed. "Yes they most certainly will." I patted my stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was. "All the fatty pork on the menu lately, it's gone straight here."
It was Bofur's turn to scoff and he approached, took the corset from my hands, then unceremoniously tossed it to the bed. "Lass, to everyone here, you still look half-starved since you're about half the width of every dam under the mountain. I promise you - no one will notice. And I like you with a little more meat on your bones." he remarked with a good-natured nudge.
I chewed the inside of my cheek a moment and then let out a breath in acquiescence. "I guess I will be a little more comfortable without it…" I ventured, still somewhat hesitant.
"That's the spirit!" Bofur exclaimed happily as he rushed to fetch my dress before I could change my mind. "Besides, it's much easier to take them off then put back on."
In short order we made our way back to the Hall of Kings. Our arrival heralded some cheers and toasts from those nearest enough to the front to even notice our return. Méra appeared out of nowhere and flounced up to us, happy as ever. She opened her mouth to greet us, stopped, cocked her head and examined me critically, then stepped in close where she proceeded to do that annoyingly loud whisper she still hadn't managed to rein in.
"Ah, I don't want to alarm you, but in all your… erm, wedded bliss, it seems you've forgotten your corset."
I shot Bofur a patronizing glare. "I told you!" I hissed at him in alarm.
Méra looked from me to him, with a good measure of confusion. "Oh, was it on purpose then?"
"I'll go back and put it on." I conceded hastily, pivoting away from the pair with the hopes of making my retreat before running into anyone else that might judge me more harshly. Bofur caught my arm, though, and held me fast.
"You're talking to the seamstress who designed your dress, love. Of course she would notice something like that - trust me, no one else will."
"It's not that bad, really." Méra agreed after a moment of close scrutiny, crossing her arms over her chest and humming thoughtfully. She then reached out to deftly adjust the gown this way and that before I could even form a protest. Her gleeful expression finally returned once more, having apparently fixed whatever flaw she, the artist, saw in her work. "There now, go take a seat and none will be the wiser. Your princess commands it." she added with a wink.
Though still no longer convinced my decision to forgo the corset had been the right one, I lamented the idea of having to do all the stairs to and from my new chambers again, and so decided to comply with her 'command' and allowed Bofur to guide me to my chair.
Judging by the state of the hall, it definitely appeared as if the party had continued steadily through the night. Yet shortly after taking our seats at the head table, the space was cleared, wiped spotlessly clean, and then we were brought out a selection of freshly cooked and arranged foods for brunch, which we happily tucked into.
Bofur and I were flabbergasted in equal measure to find one of the first to formally greet us that morning was an elf. The slightly vexed expression on his stately face, however - even despite his best efforts to otherwise appear stoic - made it clear that he would likely rather be anywhere else.
I cast my eyes up at him with curiosity, but his only initial response was to hand me a scroll. Apparently he was a messenger, and therefore couldn't entirely be blamed for his lacklustre attitude towards the celebration as he was likely just ordered to attend.
"King Thranduil bid me to present the bride and groom with gifts and good tidings."
He indicated slightly behind him and we looked to see a pair of disgruntled dwarves pushing a wagon up towards our table, on which rested a wine cask. I wondered why it would take two dwarves to maneuver it through the crowd. Surely even the elf would have had the upper body strength required to carry the cask alone by hand, for it was not all that large - of course he was likely too proud to bear it aloft, but still, unless this was some strange attempt to humiliate a dwarf or two (not that I expected any would go along with such mockery), I couldn't quite puzzle out the reason for delivering the gift in such a way.
I frowned at our elven messenger, thinking he might clue us in as to what else could be weighing the wagon down. Apparently he was not required to say anything more, however, but at least did us the courtesy of a small bow before turning on his heel and making a hasty exit.
I was curious and somewhat taken aback that the esteemed King of the Woodland Realm would find it within his dignity to take the time to even acknowledge our wedding, and so with eager hands I undid the scroll and read through it, a smile forming on my lips as I did so.
'Though your taste in partners is beyond salvation, there is yet hope that your tongue may still find pleasure in all things sweeter and more refined. Enjoy, with my blessing, and in return I ask only a small favour; ensure that your companions refrain from littering their garbage within the borders of my kingdom in the future.'
It was only then, with that strange request in mind, that I studied the wagon more closely and came to notice a lumpy, dirty and disheveled sack tied up and haphazardly arranged beneath the much finer cloth that the wine barrel was nestled upon. I had no idea where the Elves would even find such soiled fabric, and could hardly imagine them wanting to touch such a displeasing looking item.
Before I could stop him, Bofur snagged the message from my hand and read it himself. He seemed to find it less amusing than I, as he tossed it aside with a snort, but then he too looked at the wagon with a perplexed expression.
"Well, go on then!" I encouraged, eager to end the suspense. I knew a 'why me?' look when I saw one, so I added "It's your garbage" with all the piety I could muster.
Bofur finally sighed and I smiled sweetly at him as I reveled in my victory, shifting in my seat to get a better look as he rose with a huff, walked slowly around the table and divested the wagon of the cask with ease (thus confirming my earlier suspicions). He then pulled back the fine cloth draped over the shabby bundle, revealing more of the shape - enough, it appeared, for Bofur to recognize the contents.
"We're going to want the lads here for this." he stated cryptically, looking up at me with a twinkle in his eye and keeping me in agonizing suspense - much to his own amusement no doubt.
"Feast your eyes on this!" Bofur exclaimed dramatically when the company was finally gathered, all of them appearing as in the dark as I was. Bofur lifted the bundle to the table with an audible rattle and clatter of metal on metal, deftly untied the cords fastening it together, and then threw back the dirty canvas.
The sudden bustle and outburst of enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself grinning from ear to ear as I watched them close in on their gift. I hadn't seen them this giddy since finding the treasure at the troll cave, and even that was not all of them at once, but this new treasure united them all in their excitement, for there between them lay many of their long lost weapons and equipment. Bifur's boar spear, Dori's flail, Bofur's mattock, and a few of Bombur's largest pieces of solid cast iron cookware - indeed all the missing gear seemed to be there, even Bofur's tobacco pouch which he had lost in the forest, found, and then evidently lost again.
"They didn't even have the common decency to refill it." he lamented with a scoff, clearly unable to help but get a jibe in even despite such an underhandedly generous gift.
By far one of the most excited, however, was Ori, whose slingshot was nestled down amongst the bottom of the sack. He was almost as excited as Dwalin, in fact.
"Grasper! Keeper!" Dwalin shouted in an unprecedented bout of joy as he pushed past the others to retrieve his pair of axes. He kissed them both, one after the other, and then cradled them almost lovingly, murmuring to them as a path was made for him to wander aimlessly away.
"Come here my lovelies. What did those beardless leaf lickers do to you?" he crooned before trailing off into a string of Khuzdul.
Needless to say, this set the morning off in especially high spirits, and had much of the company lingering around reminiscing about the various parts of our adventure in ways they hadn't been able to yet achieve without growing quite somber - save for one passing moment. After all assembled had reunited with their possessions, there still remained a few unclaimed weapons at the bottom of the wagon; the effects of our fallen comrades. Balin quickly tucked them away with the intention of returning them to Dís. A strained silence fell over us, only to be broken when Nori sniffled, then spoke up.
"Do you remember the look on Fili's face when they finally found the dagger he had stashed way down the back of his trousers? Just stood there and let the poor twig fish it out with no help at all!" With that he hooted in laughter while other members genuinely began to chuckle in suit, and our spirits lifted once more. So it was that the Elven King unintentionally helped us to heal, even if just a little, and gave a gift far greater than he could have anticipated.
The next particularly noteworthy encounter of the day did not come about until nearly noon when Bofur had stepped away, and occurred shortly after I met a Laketown woman of impressively tall stature who had allegedly been in correspondence with Beorn, of all people, since the Battle of the Five Armies. While I had no reason to suspect her claim was false, I still found it unexpected to receive any word from the shapeshifter, and only truly came to believe it afterwards when I unwrapped the wax paper around one of packages of honey cakes Beorn had sent as a gift. Upon sampling the delicacy, there was no mistaking the honey as his own, as none other had ever tasted quite so vibrant.
This would have been particularly noteworthy in and of itself, had it not been almost immediately overshadowed by the news I received shortly thereafter when Bavona and Belvira approached with Bifur in tow.
"You wouldn't happen to have seen my husband, would you?" I asked casually as I offered some of the cakes to the girls and their chaperone. I didn't exactly need him back anytime soon, but thought the encounter with the supposed 'friend' of Beorn's so interesting that I felt the need to tell someone.
"He's gone to check in on Ma and Da." Belvira stated simply, accepting the proffered morsel without hesitation while Bavona slipped into Bofur's empty seat. I was pleased that the girls were beginning to warm up to me a little, especially now that I was technically their aunt. Looking to Bifur, though, I could tell he was almost fit to burst with some sort of anticipation. He looked wildly back and forth between the sisters, and finally when neither spoke up further he snapped in nervous excitement.
"Tell her for Durin's sake!" he encouraged rather louder than I expected he meant to, as he immediately looked sheepish afterwards. The girls took it all in stride, apparently used to his behaviour or too busy being the dwarven equivalent to teenagers to care.
"Ma's abed with the new bairn, kept us up half the night and now Da's waiting on her hand and foot." Bavona explained. I turned and gaped at her.
"She had the baby?" I asked excitedly, the twins nodded but didn't elaborate. "And?" I urged. "What was it? What's the name?"
"We've got another sister!" Belvira answered before licking sticky fingers, her detached mood relenting somewhat in the face of my enthusiasm and the absence of any more easily accessible desserts. "They haven't chosen a name yet though, they only had a boy one picked out." she added, though her conviction petered out as she eyed up the pile of still wrapped honey cakes. Bavona noticed her sister's attention wane, and when she spotted the cause she snapped her fingers to get the other young dam's attention.
"Oi, none of that now, you've had plenty." she chided, which made me grin as I imagined who she must have heard that phrase from before.
"Well my dears, we're holding up the cue. Let's go spread the happy news." Bifur stated with a clap of his hands as he rose from a nearby chair. As the girls bade me farewell and moved on through the intermingling groups of merrymakers, Bifur lingered a moment and leaned in closer, tapping an earlobe.
"I see you're a few holes short, but reckon you should have the matching set to your husband's." He explained, setting a pair of fang earrings on the table. With that, he bared his teeth, as if maybe he wasn't sure he conveyed himself clearly enough - it only did more to make the situation odd, but still I thanked him and leaned in to give him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. The generosity and thoughtfulness shown by the dwarves was truly becoming overwhelming, and while I knew a lot of it was to do with tradition, I felt I needed to reciprocate in whatever little ways I could, even if it was just a heartfelt thank you.
It was shortly after the midday meal that Bofur and Bombur returned in the company of King Dain, as well as his family and loremasters. Their arrival was heralded in by the deep boom of a bell somewhere within the mountain. They made their way through the quieting throng, right up to the head table. I excused myself from the line of well-wishers and skirted the table to rush up and congratulate Bombur, hugging him as best I could around his thick neck. Despite his typical steadfast silence, I could tell his excitement matched my own, and he gave me a heartfelt thump on the back. Bofur laced an arm around my waist when I separated from his brother, before we could speak, though, Dain interjected apologetically.
"Sorry lass, I ken it's your special days and all, but I must share the news! Can't break tradition." he added reproachfully under his breath while shooting a quick look towards the elders nearby. They never seemed to mind though, and must have been fully accustomed to his scorn by now. Maybe words didn't matter, so long as his actions were true to their ways.
I, of course, had no objections and so the king nodded and then turned to address the crowd. "Right then!" he shouted, sticking to the common tongue for the obvious reason of there being so many humans present. "Rejoice! I, Dain Ironfoot, King under the Mountain, proclaim that a child has awakened! Sound every bell, from highest peak to deepest depths, until the very bones of the earth tremble! For this day, a dwarven child is born, and we endure like the stone itself! Rejoice!"
I couldn't tell what was louder - the sudden toll of a hundred bells, or the frantic cheers of hundreds of revelers. Either way, the wall of sound hit me almost like a physical force, and may have sent me reeling had Bofur not been holding me close. He truly was always looking out for me. I drew him into a quick kiss, and then wordlessly encouraged him back to our seats while the crowds surged forwards to congratulate Bombur in earnest.
It took a long while before the cheers subsided and the bells ceased. The merrymaking then began again with new vigour, and those waiting to pay their respects all seemed to have more spring in their step in the wake of the joyous news. Even still, as the day drew on I could tell Bofur was getting antsy. After his last rather lengthy disappearance from the head table, I made it clear that I wished for him to stay seated with me for the remainder of the afternoon to help formally accept the well-wishes and surprising stream of gifts - many from dwarves and residents of Dale alike that neither of us actually seemed to know (our new quarters were surely going to be full to the brink). Bofur's growing restlessness, however, caused him to start misbehaving. In the small lulls between guests, he took to leaning in close to speak to me - which would otherwise have been harmless enough, as to hear him clearly over the din of such a crowd, along with the the lively jigs now being played by a small set of dwarf musicians, he had to talk rather close to my ear regardless. Instead of politely remarking on the food or the music, however, he would instead say something in Khuzdul in what I was sure was the most provocative voice he could muster.
I kept pushing him away with a stern word, but I knew he could see the heat rising in my cheeks, and the way I began to squirm slightly in my own chair.
"Stop teasing me." I whispered after the umpteenth time in what was becoming a mixture of genuine annoyance and partial eagerness for when we could finally excuse ourselves back to our chambers for the night.
He, of course, did not comply but simply ran his hand down the length of my spine before groping my behind and bringing his mouth up closer to my neck once more.
"My tongue can do a better job of teasing you than my words can." he remarked lasciviously, placing a somewhat wet kiss along my collarbone for emphasis.
"You are terrible." I admonished, but made no move to remove his wayward hand - in fact I turned towards him, leaning into his body a bit to indulge - albeit as subtly as I could - in his silly wantonness. It was then, out of the corner of my eye, that I noticed someone had approached and was now waiting on us.
"Bard!" I exclaimed loudly and with a bit more surprise than I meant to while hastily giving Bofur a hard shove so that I could straighten up. I cleared my throat, and then debated over whether I should get up to greet him, or stay seated, but couldn't make up my mind in my flustered state so just ended up fidgeting somewhat awkwardly. I cast Bofur a sidelong glower (he still seemed relaxed as ever) before I finally arranged what I hoped was a normal and welcoming smile.
I was slightly taken aback to see not the usual expression of grim discomfort or embarrassment on Bard's face, but instead a slight knowing smirk.
"There will be many here envying your dwarven traditions." he commented idly in an offhand nature, seeming to address more Bofur than myself, but then he looked at me. "Most humans get to enjoy just one blissful wedding night, but here you are enjoying the second of seven. Enjoy it."
His unusually nonchalant encouragement instantly banished my unfounded bashfulness over being caught flirting with my new husband at my own wedding. My smile finally became genuine and I was able to greet him properly.
"Bain and the girls will be along shortly to say hello," Bard explained after I asked over their welfare, "they appear to have gotten distracted by the food platters on the way in... But I came to give you this. It's not much of a gift I'm afraid, as they already belong to you."
He handed over a small leather satchel. I looked at him, confused, but he simply nodded for me to open it. Undoing the small clasp, I carefully dumped the contents onto the tabletop before me, and after studying the items for a moment, my heart began to beat faster.
I gently picked up a white silver necklace, one with inset diamonds, the very same that I had found in the troll hoard, put on in Rivendell and then wore the entire remainder of the journey with the Company (until I had finally divested it on Bard's barge). Although this piece of jewellery was undoubtedly worth the most in a monetary sense, and certainly held some sentimentality, it was not what was making my chest feel tight. I set it aside with a soft smile, and then lovingly ran my finger along the smooth front of an opal hanging from a different necklace. My father had actually given it to my mother when she had me, and it was the piece I remember her wearing most often as I grew up.
"Bard, how did you…" I trailed off as my eyes landed on a small pearl bracelet, one which had belonged to myself as a child - my father had been particularly proud when he had gifted it to me, and his excited face suddenly danced behind my eyes, clear as day, causing my breath to hitch slightly. I then picked up a star-shaped silver brooch, something I hardly ever saw my father without, for it had always reliably fastened his cloak. In fact, it nagged me on some primal level as to how he could have even forgotten to take it with him the very last time...
The worry over the matter, however, was quickly lost amidst the aftershocks of nostalgia, brought about by being reunited with my priceless family heirlooms, which almost overpowered me once more.
I gaped up at Bard, stricken speechless, and then looked back at my new possessions; the ghosts from my past. I found I could hardly believe them to be real, needing to reach out and touch them all again. I felt tears begin to fill my eyes as I was overcome with memories and raw emotion.
"What is it love?" Bofur asked gently from beside me.
I ran my thumb over the opal once more, keeping my eyes locked onto it. "It was my mom's." I whispered, not trusting my voice, then I curled my fingers protectively over the brooch, "And this was my father's…"
I could fight it no longer and so I put my face into my hands and simply cried for a few moments. I felt Bofur scoot closer and place a comforting arm around my back, and after I was able to regain most of my composure, I looked back up to Bard - who, to his credit, had stayed rooted to the spot. I felt a pang of guilt for ruining his pleasantly casual attitude from a few moments prior, as it now appeared his level of unease was physically paining him.
"I'm sorry," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't think- I didn't mean to upset you."
I shook my head as I quickly stood up. Wanting to assure Bard as quickly as possible that he hadn't committed some terrible faux pas, I decided to take the quickest route to get to him and so I stepped right up onto the table, careful to avoid our drinks, and took a few delicate steps across it. Despite Bard's mortified expression, I hopped down in front of him then pulled him into a fierce embrace.
"I'm not crying because I'm upset." I half laughed, half sobbed into his chest. "I'm happy."
Bard, whom I'm sure didn't like being the centre of attention even at the best of times but now found himself supporting the hysterical bride at a human-dwarf wedding, managed to muster up enough gallantry to return the hug for a moment with one arm before softly clearing his throat and then taking a polite step back.
I looked back up at him with incredulity. "I just don't understand, how did you come to have them?"
"They've been in my safekeeping for many years. It was just luck that we came across my bedside table, somehow still in one piece, more or less at any rate, during a recovery trip to Laketown."
I wanted to ask him more questions, but at that moment his children rushed up beside him and I was pulled into a quick hug by Sigrid.
"Congratulations!" she said happily, but her face fell when she stepped back and looked at me more critically. "Oh, what's wrong? Da, what did you say to her?"
"Nothing's wrong." I assured her quickly with a smile before Bard could be further blamed for my reddened eyes. "I'm just a tad emotional today."
She still seemed somewhat suspicious but proceeded to compliment my dress and expressed excitement over the event as a whole. Bain then joined the conversation, raving over the many choices of food on display - Dale was apparently still persisting on slightly more basic rations.
After talking with them a bit more, Bard eventually commented that it was time to move on to let other guests come greet us. I tried to encourage them to stay under the mountain for as long as they liked, and hoped they would return for some of the following days (if not just for Bain's sake to take advantage of the never ending party snacks supplied generously by the dwarves).
"Thank you, Bard." I took up his hands and squeezed them in farewell. "Truly, words can't even express how grateful I am."
"I like to think your parents would have done the same for my children, had our situations been reversed." Bard assured, returning the pressure with a squeeze of his own while looking fondly towards his family.
By that point, Bofur had gotten up and came around the table to join us. Before Bard could leave, Bofur clasped his arm, and offered him a very genuine thank you as well, for which I was grateful. Bard nodded, and then we finally let him disappear into the crowds behind his eldest daughter.
Bofur took my hand and, since we were up out of our seats anyway, and given that my sudden outburst of tears had scared away anyone else that had been waiting in cue to formally congratulate us, we decided to take a bit of a stroll around the Hall.
I was happy to let Bofur lead me here and there through the crowd, greeting people in passing as we went. It felt much more relaxed compared to the formality of meeting people one at a time or in small groups at the table, and I was sure we were encountering folks who would otherwise have waited until later in the week, or not come at all in some cases. Even still, everyone was cordial and in good spirits, and a carnival atmosphere prevailed throughout. Since the feast celebrating the arrival of the Blue Mountain dwarves, there had not been many other occasions to warrant taking time off from the magnitude of work that needed to be done, especially given the typical dwarven work ethic that drove many of them to carry on straight through minor festivals and holidays. After a few months though, it seemed as though the consensus was that we were finally reaching the light at the end of the tunnel, and so many folks, both human and dwarf, seemed happy for the chance to relax and catch up with all those they had fallen out of touch with.
Old friends drank deep into their cups together and reminisced about old times, or challenged each other to games of chance, strength or agility. Distant relations reunited and shared news from their respective settlements. Parents and grandparents met up with sons and daughters and their families, some of whom they had not seen since they were separated following the fall of Erebor, and the few dwarf children that now resided Under the Mountain were the center of attention for many as they played with the human children from Laketown (although how different they were in age from their human counterparts was anyone's guess).
Entertainment had been provided for the young as well as old. A whole section of the hall had been taken over by specialized craftsmen showing off their talents, where I was thrilled to see Bifur tinkering away with a spread of minuscule tools and materials while onlookers marveled at a few of his finished products. An axe throwing competition was in full swing just up the steps behind the artisans off the gold floor, and growing rather heated as dwarves took on more and more challenging trick shots to out-do their opponents. This didn't seem to bother the nearby spectators at all, however, and interestingly there was a snaggle of ancient dwarrowdams knitting away while chatting idly between large pillars almost directly in the line of fire. I watched in wonder as one went so far as to have an axe thrower cut a stray strand of wool from a scarf she was working on - from twenty paces away. There was even a train of miniature minecarts for the children to ride being drawn about by a surly looking ram that was largely unsupervised, who every now and then would get it in his head to skitter off bucking and tossing and yanking the carts about with their occupants and all nearby witnesses cheering him on.
It was while we were sampling some of the food from a deep-fried mushroom stall (which allegedly served over a dozen different varieties all grown within the mountain, though I couldn't tell the difference between any of them) that I became acutely aware of something amiss, and so I looked about to identify the source of unease. It took me longer than it should have to realize that the music that had provided an almost constant underlay to the proceedings had now ceased, and in its absence silence blossomed around us following the ram's latest bout of madness. In scanning the hall, Bofur and I noticed a throng of dwarves and men crowding around some unknown event.
"A brawl, I'd wager." Bofur stated with a bit of ire.
"At a wedding?" I asked in disbelief.
"Oh, it's no surprise really, weddings really do bring out the best in people." my husband explained as he hooked his arm in mine again. "It's just that usually they have the decency to wait til at least the fifth or sixth day. Come on then," he urged, guiding me through the onlookers. "Suppose we'd best go sort this out."
We cut through the crowd as best we could, though the going was slow and Bofur took to shouting to clear us a path. "Oi! Bride and groom coming through." he would urge, gently shoving people aside as I trailed along in his wake. As we progressed, the music started up again, but this time with a frantic pace and what sounded to be a new musician added to the roster. All I could think was that it was a little over-dramatic to play music to accompany a fist fight.
It took some doing, but finally we were free of the press of bodies and out at the front of the pack. While I had expected some ruthless display of dwarven combat, or at least a few burly men flailing about in the throes of drunken aggression, I hadn't been prepared for the spectacle before us. The musicians were in fact there, and seemed to be in good order, but the source of the dissonance appeared to have been caused by a human that was now facing off against them in a duel of sorts. The music I had taken to be played by the entire cohort of dwarven instrumentalists was in fact being accomplished by a single man with a lute. The men of Dale were cheering him on, and I found myself very quickly caught up in the tune, to the point where I was disappointed that it ended with a flourish shortly after we arrived.
My disappointment was short lived though, as the dwarven soloist stepped forward then and brandished his own instrument to rousing support from the dwarves. The man, who I had come to recognize as the lutist from the tavern in Dale the night Bofur had come calling, beckoned for his counterpart to begin, and so the battle began in earnest.
What followed was without a doubt one of the most amazing displays of skill I had ever seen, and one that I expected I would remember all my life - despite seeing prowess of one form or another on an almost daily basis living with dwarves. The lutist would play a set, only to be flawlessly matched by the dwarf, and then out-done. They continued this back and forth until their fingers were a blur, and all bets and allegiances were momentarily forgotten in the witness of such magnificence. The band joined in at some point, though when it was I can't quite say, and finally the duel became a duet as neither player could beat the other. The crowd roared from its stunned slumber, stomping and shouting and clapping, and the final notes fell over the whole of the Hall of Kings with such energy that I doubted even Smaug could have rivaled the level of noise of the following applause.
It was with happy hearts that we returned to our rooms after dinner, for it had been a day full of good surprises and memories to be cherished. Bofur rested his long lost mattock by the fireplace with a small degree of tenderness, and I brought my new pieces of jewellery to the bedroom and laid them out carefully on a cabinet top (Bofur was most amused by the fang earrings from his cousin). He then spoke a bit about Bombur's new daughter and assured me that I would soon get to meet her - my curiosity was piqued as I was eager to see what a dwarf baby would look like (and a small part of me wondered if even their newborns came into the world with some amount of facial hair). We finished the day in typical new husband and wife fashion, and while I was certainly pent up after a day of his relentless and provocative teasing, he more than made up for it that evening. As the sunlight waned and the dark of night settled in, I drifted to sleep embraced in the arms of the one I loved, dreaming of what the next few days would hold in store.