One of the first acts of kindness I'd shown to Bofur (that may or may not have hinted at my growing feelings towards him at the time) was rising early to make him a cup of hot tea. That was no easy feat while in the backcountry on route to Erebor, and as such it had been a simple and rushed brew over a rough campfire, complete with errant flakes of ash that likely did not improve the flavour. Now, however, being able to utilize a few wedding gifts along with the small kitchenette in our new quarters, I was able to take all the time in the world to make a good and proper pot - the perfect pot really - and there was even honey at my disposal to serve with it.

I set everything out on a tray and carried it out to the balcony; perhaps this would be our new tradition, for three seasons anyway, starting the day together looking out over the landscape where dwarven lands met those of men.

Bofur seemed just as pleased by my proffered drink this time around, moreso really, as after he took a drink he hummed in contentment.

"Where did you learn to make such a good cup of tea?" he questioned idly after taking another sip.

I grinned and lifted a shoulder as I took up my own, curling my cold hands gratefully around the warm mug. "I guess because it was the one thing I could do for myself in Bree, when my work was done of course." I hesitated, somewhat unsure if I should continue to bring up memories from during the darker times of my past. After a moment's consideration, however, I reasoned that if I couldn't reminisce about any of my stay at the tavern, then I would be unable to draw upon a huge portion of my life and would therefore have very little experience to ever speak of. It was also just more of a neutral memory anyway, many of them were. I glanced at Bofur and decided to finish my thought.

"The Innkeeper liked to have tea on his menu board, to seem more refined I expect, but it was rarely ever ordered. So no one minded if I used the leaves up. It was a treat really, and I started to do my own mixes for fun. Eventually I became decent at it, and could revive the oldest of leaves into a passable cup."

Bofur nodded somewhat thoughtfully, took another drink, and then quirked a brow.

"If old unmixed teas were what passed as refined in that kitchen, I'd hate to know what the ale was like. Good thing we didn't stop there on our way through, else I might have left the company before we even met."

"The ale was watered down, you'd have hated it." I agreed with a rueful grin. "And you don't want to know what was sometimes passed off as meat… Honestly, the bread was probably the best thing on the menu, mostly because I usually made it, and even then I wasn't exactly using top quality ingredients. The flour always had weevils." I crinkled my nose at the recollection, but then turned to smile at Bofur. "Though maybe if you had stopped in, you would have seen me still working there, fell madly in love, and whisked me away from the horrid place a bit sooner."

"I'm sure I would have enjoyed the bread, weevils and all, if you were the one who served it to me." he commented with a good-natured smirk. He then set down his empty mug, gently taking mine out of my grasp as well before pulling me in close to him. "Maybe our paths were always meant to cross, one way or another." he added more seriously.

"I like to think so." I brushed my lips against his, just briefly, but then pulled back and looked at him with a grin. "Or maybe you'd at least have given me a generous tip, like you did for 'Eleanor' in Dale?"

"I'd nearly forgotten about that." Bofur laughed. "Truth is, after following Thorin around for a few months before the quest, I couldn't even have afforded a meager tip. A miner under the open sky is a broke miner, as they say. What did you end up doing with your extravagant earnings from that night?"

I thought for a moment - so much had happened since then. "I think I must have just tucked it away in that little house I stayed in. There wasn't much of anything in Dale to spend it on really, and a coin that valuable outside of the mountain would have drawn too much attention anyways." I answered with a shrug. "Maybe we should try to get it back? Next time we go to the city, or perhaps we could ask someone to check there?"

Bofur waved a hand dismissively. "Not worth the hassle I say, but if you ever do need more for yourself, all you have to do is ask, you know that, right?"

I ran my finger along Bofur's earring, idly wondering if I should actually consider asking Méra to pierce my own ears. "Don't worry," I said distractedly, "I still have some, from when you gave me that purse a few months ago. I bought fabric for a dress but that was it. After all these gifts, I can't imagine needing to buy anything for a while. Unless-" I stopped short and met Bofur's eye, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

He lifted a brow, urging me to continue. I huffed and smoothed my hands over his chest before continuing.

"It's just that, well, Bofur I'm so sorry, I didn't really think to get you anything for our wedding. You've surprised me with so much; our new home for one, and even the rings," I quickly glanced at the shiny band of metal I now wore around my finger, "but it seems silly to ask you to give me your coin, just so that I can turn around and buy you gifts - and I'm not good enough at anything to make you anything special…"

I bit my lip, knowing I should have tried harder to come up with something actually substantial to give him. Bofur's hand came up to my chin and he used his thumb to gently pull my lip free of my worrying.

"Stop that." he chided with a smile and a slight shake of his head. "I expected nothing from you. Everything I got for us is just a husband's traditional duty anyway. And you did surprise me. You somehow managed to learn and recite vows for me in Khuzdul, I know the effort that would have taken - even just to get someone to teach it to you in the first place... Besides, you agreed to become my wife! That was gift enough. That's all I wanted."

"I knew you would say something like that." I retorted with a pretend pout. "Still…"

Bofur grinned and tucked my hair behind my ears. "Do you remember it?" he asked suddenly, likely in attempts to divert me. I tilted my head, unsure what he was referring to. "That vow you memorized?" he clarified.

I had repeated the phrase hundreds of times, both aloud and in my head after first hearing it from Balin. I might have even overdone it, as it now seemed permanently burnt into the forefront of my brain. I even still found myself randomly rattling the words off, like it was some catchy tune I couldn't help but hum to myself in the lulls between deeper thoughts. And yet now, though totally alone with Bofur where I could say it aloud with no fear of judgement or reprisal - I felt unsure.

"Let me hear it once more." Bofur coaxed, his eyes twinkling.

I twirled my fingers into his hair before grabbing a chunk of it and tugging slightly. "Why?" I asked with mock suspicion, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Maybe you speaking my tongue will do the same to me as my speaking it to you does." he said rather casually in explanation, though he trailed his hands lasciviously down to my hips.

I stifled a laugh, knowing full well that I couldn't do his language justice, and sounding any kind of sultry in Khuzdul was likely a skill level beyond my scope of attainability. Bofur continued to egg me on, however, and so I shook my head with a grin and decided to indulge him with his silly request.

"Ni dûmzu zâmkhihi zahar..." I began slowly, trying to make the words sound as soft and rounded as the phrase would permit. Despite how ridiculous I felt, Bofur did not let my pride take any damage and pulled me firm against him, nuzzling his head into my neck as I completed the phrase. He placed some deliciously drawn out kisses along the skin below my ear causing me to squirm in his arms.

"Stop that." I chided lightly. Although tempted by his advancements, I knew I needed a reprieve. I was beginning to feel tired, a bit sore all over, and even my lips felt somewhat tender and chapped from our previous dalliances. I tugged out of Bofur's arms but gave him an empathetic smile. "I need a break, but I have no self control with you, so you have to be the strong one and let me rest for a day."

Bofur nodded kindly and took up my hand. Wordlessly he kissed the back of it and then drew us up to the balcony's rail. All was at peace in the world, and we stood there awhile in the stillness of the morning. The sun climbed into the sky, birds circled calling up above, and far out across the plain the city of Dale was slowly waking up. Finally, the bells tolled out the hour.

"Ready for today?" I questioned lightly, turning to look at him.

Bofur leaned in and very gently kissed me a few times more, first on the cheek to encourage my head to turn, and then on my smiling lips. Only then, with his mouth still hovering close to mine, did he seem to finally ponder my question. "Maybe after another cup - let's just keep everyone waiting a while longer, shall we?"

It was late morning by the time we returned to the head table, and I was intrigued to see a moderately sized wooden box placed on my chair. Bofur set to work loading up a plate with breakfast, so I left him to his own devices and slid my plate aside to make room to open the gift with as much care as I could afford for a box so simple yet well made. The wood fit together perfectly with seams that were almost invisible, though a tug on the lid revealed it was only pressure fitted, so I was able to remove it and dispel the mystery of its contents almost at once.

Inside was a stack of what appeared to be neatly folded clothing topped with a note written in some of the most immaculate handwriting I had ever seen. I thought I recognized the look of the topmost article, but decided to do the anonymous gift giver the courtesy of reading the letter first.

'You forgot to retrieve this in your hasty departure - we may not always see eye to eye with our western kin, but I believe all elves would agree that a gift given in good faith should be returned to its recipient.'

I ran my hands along the fabric of my elven cloak, gifted to me by Lord Elrond before I had left Rivendell. In all honesty, I had quite forgotten about it, but now felt a surge of appreciation for being reunited with such an item, for it was both durable and beautiful, and I would be happy to wear it again.

'To explain the next item, the coat was ordered to be disposed of in the best way I saw fit, and so I do so now. I do believe it belongs to your new husband. I did have it cleaned and repaired, though cannot quite say that it is an improvement.'

With a delighted grin, I pulled my cloak out and set it aside and then gave Bofur a nudge, as below it was folded a very familiar brown suede coat. Bofur halted his eating to regard his old jacket, then pushed back from the table and rose to grab it out. He inspected it, leaned in to sniff at it, and looked about ready to make another snarky remark similar to the one he made about yesterday's elven gift, but then cowed under my incredulous stare.

"Smells… lovely." he ventured with a hint of sarcasm and a shrug. I had to admit though, it had taken on an unfamiliar floral fragrance where once it had only a comforting aroma that brought to mind woodsmoke, leather, and all the subtle scents that had come to embody my image of Bofur.

"Still," he continued, giving it a slight shake, "nice to have it back. This coat does have certain memories attached to it… good memories." he winked at me then and I couldn't help but smile.

Beneath the coat, there was yet more - fabrics of green and brown that I faintly recognized from our stay in Thranduil's dungeons. I left them in the box for now, having a good idea of what they would be. Instead I finished reading the note, which I knew at this point could be from none other than Tauriel.

'Finally, my gift to you. No doubt the dwarves will be short (no pun intended) on clothing of your size, and while the citizens of Dale could no doubt furnish you with all manner of outfits, I have a suspicion that your adventuring days are not yet fully behind you, and for that, nothing will suit better than the garb of the Woodland Realm.

Savo 'lass a lalaith.'

Before I could even take time to appreciate the thoughtful gifts further, my vision was obscured by fireworks of orange and red hair as none other than Méra flounced up, just as eager to greet us as the morning before.

"Finally, I've been waiting ages for you two! Oh, what's that?" Méra questioned, peering into the box. Without invitation she pulled out the first thing she could grab - a deep green tunic, which she scrutinized for a moment before setting it back and pushing the box unceremoniously aside.

"Flawless workmanship, but a bit drab don't you think? You'd think the elven tailors, what with being immortally old and all, would have developed some sense of style by now." she commented, disregarding the fact that the garments were obviously meant for travel. "I've heard their king has a flair for the flamboyant mind you…" she observed, glancing at me for acknowledgement before continuing. "Anyway, it's finally finished!"

I looked at her blankly and she simply smiled conspiratorially then turned to beckon to Ganin, who I noticed was standing a few paces away holding a long, oddly shaped parcel under his arm. He approached and made to set it in front of me - though it was so large that I had to quickly shift my last gift to the floor and even then it still encroached in Bofur's space, forcing him to grab his drink out of the way with a noise of indignation. When it was finally in place, Ganin then reached into his surcoat and pulled out a skinny rectangular box, which he then presented to Bofur with a curt, ceremonial bow.

Bofur, who seemed bemused and maybe a tad incredulous that his gift was so much tinier, lifted the box and gave it a little shake.

"Well, go on then, take a guess, but be quick about it, Mom and Da' are at a meeting this morn and I don't want them seeing it." Méra urged, leaning down over the table and watching me eye up the odd parcel in front of me.

"Is it a new pipe?" Bofur asked of his own, provoking Méra's ire at the interruption.

"Not you, dafty! Shush, not everything's about you, you know!" she scolded, then turned back to me with no inkling of irony: "Now then, let's get back to you opening your present."

Bofur let out a terse laugh and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat dramatically to watch my own gift being opened with all the sarcastic fanfare he could muster. I spared him an apologetic glance to help ease his tension, and then unfastened the ties around the cloth.

"At least mine is in a nicer package." Bofur mused slyly, any insult he felt being channeled into the mirthful mischief he found in provoking Méra further. He got an eye roll out of the princess as well, but she made no further comment as I folded back the fabric to unveil what was inside.

There before me was a longsword sheathed in a sturdy looking scabbard that held some simple elegance in its blue-green metal, which instantly attracted my hand to trail along its length in wonder.

"Go on then!" Méra encouraged with a huff of impatience despite the wide smile plastered across her face.

With a smile of my own, I stood and picked up the sheathed longsword in my off-hand, only vaguely aware of how Bofur was leaning in now with his attention fully affixed just like mine. The weight was as close to perfect as I could ever have imagined, and so without further preamble I took another step back from the table and drew the weapon with all the practiced grace I could muster. I must have done something right, as even though I felt somewhat ridiculous wielding a sword in a wedding dress (and a tiny part of me was absolutely terrified of cutting some part of it for fear I would need to use my new sword to defend myself from a vicious tailoress), I could swear it was one of the only times I ever saw Ganin smile with pride.

Méra bobbed into my line of sight. Her glee was palpable and contagious, and I couldn't help but smile along with her. When she began to speak, I could tell she was practically fit to burst as her words came out extra fast and full of enthusiasm.

"Although this is technically from me, you'll also have to thank Ganin. I passed along all your measurements, from the sewing you know, and based on that, plus your performances at practice, he knew the exact weight, balance, length and all that technical stuff, to instruct the smithy to do it up. He also had it made in a more human sort of style." Méra concluded with a proud grin. She then stepped up close to the table and leaned in slightly past my blade. "This sword is made exactly for you, and no one else." she emphasized, peering at me with a more serious bearing.

I gazed at the sword with wonder, its quality and visual appeal was far greater than that of any I had seen in Dale, and while it could not compare to the heroic blades of elvish make claimed by Thorin and Gandalf on our quest, it was more beautiful to me than any of the cumbersome dwarven weapons I had handled thus far. I then looked from Méra to Ganin while trying to formulate how best to elegantly convey how stunned and thrilled I was with their extremely thoughtful gift.

Bofur, however, spoke before I could find my own words. "And what would she need her own sword for?" he questioned, not bothering to hide the derisive edging in his tone while raising his eyebrows to the princess.

I quickly sheathed the weapon (thankfully with another bout of grace), resumed my seat and turned to give Bofur my iciest of glares.

"What do you still need your mattock for? Hm?" I snapped, before Méra could cut in. "You will not be off to battle again, not while we are still married if I have any say in the matter. Yet you were just as excited to be reunited with the thing as I am to get my own weapon. And don't think I didn't notice your loving gaze leave me last night only to land across the room where it now rests by the fire - many times I might add!"

Bofur opened his mouth as if to blurt forth some retort, but then, thankfully seeming to actually use what wisdom he did possess, he clamped it shut and backed down. Instead, he sheepishly busied himself with opening his own gift, the fancy little box that when opened revealed a sleek and shiny new silver flute nested in the soft silk interior.

"Poor lad might be needing that mattock to defend himself from his feisty wife." I heard from behind the head table. I turned to see Bofur's friend Harrick approach with a broad grin twisting the corners of his beard up. He thumped my husband on the back and laughed, but that alone didn't quite shake Bofur from his over dramatic lament. He brandished a finger pointedly at the older dwarf.

"Oi, don't you go giving her any ideas, you mad bugger! Bad enough she gets the big masculine sword and I get a delicate little whistle."

"Aw, wee lamb." Méra scolded, dripping with mock sympathy as she beckoned for the sword. I passed it off to her, and she gestured for Ganin to come take it.

"Your parents still haven't figured out you're being trained?" I realized, shocked that the princess could keep a secret about anything at all really.

Méra shook her head, though she clearly didn't want to talk about it, as instead she turned her attention back to teasing Bofur. "Go on then, play us a sad song on your delicate little whistle." she urged, but then seemed to soften somewhat upon seeing him squirm further. "You know, I did hear you've got quite a reputation back in the Blue Mountains…" she prompted more gently, and I shot her a thankful smile.

Harrick seemed to pick up the cue, nodding heartily. "Always was jealous of the way the lad could play. Cut off my beard if I haven't seen him charm the lichen off a rock!"

Bofur glared skeptically around at the lot of us, trying to gauge whether or not we were still teasing, but sensing only genuine enthusiasm his bluster seemed to leave him entirely.

"You haven't seen nothing yet mate, I never was able to get a perfect pitch with a wooden whistle…" he trailed his hand over his gift and then raised an eyebrow in consideration. He lifted it gently out of its case and tried an experimental few notes then, and was unable to keep a grin off his face. "It is a beauty. Thank you princess."

He smiled warmly at Méra, and then at me, and all animosity fell away between us.

"There now!" Harrick exclaimed with a clap of his hands. "Good old Harrick to the rescue, diffusing the situation as usual! Consider that my wedding gift to you."

"You stodgy blighter!" Bofur argued lightheartedly, spinning in his chair. "If my wife chops my head off next time we get into a spat, I'll be sure Bifur knows to come for you first."

Harrick held up his hands defensively, quickly drawing a leather bound bundle from beneath his beard. "Only joking lad, should have known not to tease someone so sensitive as to own such a pretty little instrument." He winked at me with a grin as he handed the bundle to Bofur, who seemed to cheer up and ignore the attempt to draw him back into trading insults.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked, quickly unfastening the cords. He laid it on the table and unrolled the leather to reveal a new set of carving tools tucked into pockets sewn into the case.

"Y'always were a better whittler than a miner." His friend admitted, which earned him one more half hearted glare, but that seemed to be the end of Bofur's surly attitude and Harrick then drew Bofur away to share a round of drinks with him and a few other dwarves. Méra took the opportunity to take his seat and regale me a bit further on the details of my new weapon and what her and Ganin had planned for some upcoming practice sessions.

It seemed as if one round of drinks had turned into many, as Bofur failed to return for the midday meal and was still absent into the afternoon. Méra kept by my side, however, and delighted in helping me to receive a few gifts, though seemed to have a somewhat snide comment to say of each after the bearers had gone out of earshot.

I finally chose to retire not long before supper, as I found I was only able to tolerate so much of Mera's somewhat bleak insight into why so many of the visitors were actually paying their respects, and what they might stand to gain from being seen doing it so publicly. Before I left, though, I made it clear to Méra that I fully expected Bofur to spend some time at the table that evening to make up for all the time he was absent. She promised me she would go head hunting for him, and so I abandoned my post to take some well needed rest.

On the fourth day the atmosphere in the Hall of Kings was much less electric. Fewer and fewer citizens from Dale were in attendance, and those dwarves present were past the initial sprint of revelry and settling in for the long haul. With less steady attendance except around mealtimes, many members of my honour guard came to call on the head table that morning, both to give their best wishes and to officially pass on the duty of my protection to Bofur. I could tell it was meant to honour the husband, but I also suspected another less glamorous reason for this tradition. It gave the dwarven groom a good look at all the strong young lads that would be out for his head if he mistreated his bride in any way. It was no wonder domestic violence was so unheard of in dwarven culture, not to mention the fact that half the dwarrowdams I was acquainted with could likely give as good as she got against any dwarf should the need arise.

I encouraged Bofur to get up to walk about with me a few times, as after four long days, all while being stuffed with endless food, I was starting to feel at risk of dozing whenever there was a lull. Not even a good fight was enough to fully wrest the cravings for sleep from my body, and just as Bofur had predicted one took place on the fourth day, although not between dwarves but rather animals. The minecart-train ram broke free from its tether around midday and gave a rather spirited chase to a pair of Laketown pugs that were visiting with their owners that day. With much shouting and a few flipped tables, two younger dwarrowdams finally took pity on the poor mutts and scooped them up and to safety, and then the nearest dwarves quickly stepped in to try to wrangle the rampaging ram. It finally came to an end when Bifur's toys were thrown asunder. The dwarf, in a minor bit of regression to his life with an axe in his head, shouted illegibly and lunged at the goat in a bout of such passionate strength that creature was thrown to the ground in a daze, where both he and the dwarf lay for some time panting heavily before both they shook themselves off and rather indignantly went their separate ways.

Bofur and I spent some time helping put Bifur's tools and materials back in some semblance of order, and I took delight in finally finding something I was better at than my new husband - my delicate fingers were so much better equipped than his for picking up the minuscule levers and gears, to the point where eventually Bifur thanked us profusely but seemed a bit perturbed that his cousin had spent the better part of the last ten minutes trying to coax a single flat piece of metal off of the smooth golden floor.

We eventually began threading our way back towards the head table, but before we made it to our seats Bofur changed our course, and with a guiding hand on my back he led us out through a side exit and into a quiet hallway where the only other dwarves present seemed to be workers that trundled past in and out of the hall bearing carts of empty dishes or new casks of ale.

"You're tired." Bofur stated matter of factly before I could enquire as to our exit from the party.

"It's just… a lot." I admitted with a small sigh.

Bofur nodded empathetically, although I knew he wasn't feeling as worn down as I. He then indicated for me to wait while he flagged down and approached one of the workers. They exchanged a few words then Bofur returned with a grin and took up my arm once more.

"They'll have supper sent to our rooms for us. Let's eat in bed and retire early, shall we? I'm growing weary of being on ceremony all day as well."

I decided to not mention that his behaviour 'on ceremony' seemed little different than his behaviour any other time, and was simply grateful for his willingness to escape with me to rest.

On the fifth day, save for making a short appearance at the evening meal, I succumbed to the exhaustion that had been slowly creeping up on me throughout the celebration.

Bofur came and went, as was evident by the refilled water glass every time I woke to find him gone. On one occasion I heard music coming from the balcony, but even that was not enough to pull me from the comfort of the bed.

And so I slept, and the day slipped away.

Bofur settled in beside me sometime during the night, and with my fatigue greatly abated to a much less desperate level, I turned and melted against his warm body. He pulled me close, bunching one hand in my hair while the other kneaded my lower back, and I began to look forward to the end of the wedding celebrations, when I would have more energy to simply enjoy him instead of exhausting myself for the sake of a crowd of people I hardly cared about.

We arrived early on the sixth day, but apparently not early enough to beat the crowd, whose numbers had swollen in number to rival that of day one. At first I expected some tradition Bofur had failed to mention, but he seemed to be just as bewildered as I was to have to thread our way through excited party-goers to get to the head of the hall.

"This isn't normal then?" I asked, linking my arm in his to prevent our getting separated in the throng.

"Usually you don't see this sort of revival until the last day…" he ventured in an attempt to explain his own confusion at this sudden wave of new enthusiasm. That confusion was doubled when we reached our table only to realize that the general flow of the procession was taking them past our usual location.

"Where on earth are they going?" Bofur fussed, seeming somewhat distraught not to be the center of attention. He tried standing on his tiptoes (which almost made him as tall as me), but of course this was to no avail since I could see nothing of note either. He seemed resigned to pushing through the crowd to settle his curiosity until I pulled a chair back and caught his attention, nodding up to the table.

"Find out what it is." I encouraged with a conspiratorial grin, offering him a hand up. He studied me from under a critical brow.

"That wouldn't be very proper of me, now would it? Why don't you do it?"

I snorted and snatched his hand. "If I wanted proper I would have married Dori. I'm not waiting in line at my own wedding, and if I go up there, every nearby dwarf could sneak a look up my dress." Bofur smirked and looked likely to encourage me regardless, but I pressed a free finger to his lips and stepped in close. "Do it and I'll let you see a lot more than that when we finish up tonight."

"You bring out the worst in me." he chided, before stepping nimbly up onto the table. He spent a moment peering over the crowd and then quickly hopped down with a smile. "Come on!" he encouraged, placing a hand on my back and guiding me forward. "Seems our lovely sister-in-law has come to join the festivities, and she's brought the wee one with her!"

We jostled a ways further through the throng, though we didn't have to fight for long before folks well ahead of us began to part for a very enthusiastic looking Bombur, who, despite his eager embrace, had a fatigued look about him that I hadn't seen since his untimely slumber in Mirkwood. I suspected that the demands of the new baby had so far kept him from getting any sleep. After greeting him with a kiss on the cheek, I sidled up to Melvna and peered down at the sleeping form nestled in her arms, eager to finally see what a dwarven baby actually looked like.

I smiled and uttered a small 'oh' despite myself, for the small sleeping girl before me simply looked like a normal baby, aside from perhaps being slightly larger set and more adorably chubby.

Melvna must have picked up on some part of my thoughts, as I heard her chuckle and looked to her only to see her grinning at me with a knowing expression.

"She's not what you were expecting then? I hear tell that some humans think that we spring out of holes in the ground, fully formed and bearded and ready for war."

I was taken aback, though truthfully I hadn't given dwarves much thought at all before meeting the Company. After well over one hundred and fifty years, what Laketowners knew of dwarves was limited to hearsay and legend beyond the limited contact traders like my father had with the dwarves of the Iron Hills. So many generations removed from first hand contact, we hardly spared their race a thought at all, much less speculated on coupling, and even those whose minds dared to wonder never delved so deep as to consider childbirth.

"We've settled on Melinda." Melvna added after I failed to come up with a response. "We'll have her naming ceremony after the wedding is wrapped up. Here, why don't you hold her a while." she offered, shifting to pass the babe to me so suddenly that I could barely begin to stammer a retort before I found the blanketed bundle being set gently into my arms.

I couldn't even remember the last time I had held a baby, and so at first stood there frozen as if I were handling the first fragile embers in the tinder of a new fire.

Melvna noticed my awkwardness, so she adjusted my elbow slightly, said a few gentle words of encouragement and then bid me to walk with her. She spoke idly of the new baby's sleeping habits and her knitting ventures, and I slowly found myself feeling more comfortable. Melinda remained peacefully asleep and I kept glancing down at her tiny face, appreciating her perfectly smooth skin and soft wisp of brown hair - very similar in colour to Bofur's I realized with a pang of unexplained melancholy.

"Oh Melvna, she really is just so precious." I cooed after a moment, trying to hide the fact that my chest now felt somewhat taut. "I'm so excited to watch her grow… but I also wish she would stay like this forever." I added, beaming down at her.

Melvna laughed. "That is the crux of it with bairns. I feel like I blinked and the twins were half grown. I know I'm blessed to experience it all again."

I admired the babe a minute longer, once again marvelling at her small, perfect features. She then began to stir and seemed to intuitively realize that the arms that now held her were not those of her mother. Before she could wake fully and voice her displeasure at being parted from her primary caregiver, I handed her back to Melvna with an apologetic grin.

I then glanced around and saw Bofur and Bombur watching us from nearby and my chest tightened a notch further at Bofur's expression. He plastered on a smile when I turned to him but the wistful intensity behind his eyes lingered just a moment too long.

I bid Melvna goodbye as some dwarrowdams sensed my departure and swarmed around her, leaving me to pick my way back to Bofur. Bombur grasped his brother on the arm in farewell before wandering away to speak to some others as well. I tried not to betray my own fluttering emotions as I rejoined my husband, but still searched his eyes as I stepped up closer to him, trying to uncover the thoughts I knew he was hiding.

True to form, though, he was as good as ever at burying his true feelings behind a mask of good natured humour.

"I'm afraid, love, that little Melinda might steal the show from you today. Try not to hold it against her."

After spending the better part of a year with him, I could tell I would get no more out of him. I grinned ruefully and shook my head. "Well," I ventured, twirling a stand of my hair and sticking my bottom lip out in a blatantly fake pout, "since no one will be admiring me today, maybe we should just have a quick meal and then return to our rooms for a while so that you might give the bride the attention she deserves?"

Bofur smirked as he placed a heavy hand on my waist and began to walk me back towards our table. "Don't fret, my dear. I'd wager one single-minded dwarf is enough to make up for a hundred who are only going through the motions."

"I'll hold you to that." I urged cheerily, allowing myself to be guided back to where a hot breakfast was now ready and waiting for us. We tucked in to our food, and then vacated the hall to give Melinda all the adoration she deserved.

When we returned to our rooms, I found I was actually not quite in the mood for physical intimacy and so instead busied myself with brewing some tea. Bofur, picking up on my cues, returned to his work station without fuss and carried on with a whittling project he had started to test his newly gifted tools.

"Bofur, how exactly does aging work with dwarves?" I asked some time later as I set down his mug and then settled on a chair nearby with my own.

Bofur shifted his own chair slightly in order to face me better. "In which ways do you mean?"

I chewed my lip for a few seconds, trying to organize my thoughts. "Well…" I began tentatively, "you live over three times as long as humans, so does that mean you age at least three times slower?"

"Not exactly, no." Bofur replied, carefully laying his tools down to buy himself time to think. "How can I put this eloquently…"

I interrupted and tried to clarify further. "Tell me about milestones, let's say. A human baby, for example, usually learns to walk around age one. By the next year they are often starting to talk, and by age three they are already rather independent and, well, quite functional… would that all take longer for a dwarf?" I ventured, raising my eyebrows at Bofur.

He studied me a moment and then laughed. "Oh, so you're wondering if we have to change nappies for ten or so years? You could have just asked that to begin with."

I pursed my lips at his bluntness. "I'm not just wondering about that… but it is a valid question." I added, grinning slightly but lifting my shoulder in a nonchalant shrug.

Bofur shook his head. "No, trust me, if that were the case there would probably be even fewer dwarf children about, and we'd be doomed as a race." He took a slow drink of his tea before clearing his throat and then continuing. "I think in most ways dwarven bairns grow similarly to humans for many years, and then some things just start to slow. Bombur's girls are twenty-five, for instance, and while physically they're as strong as you, and might generally have as much skill and know-how about the world as a typical human of the same age, they act more like Bard's older girl - or rather, how she might act if a dragon hadn't come along, and if she wasn't raised by, well, Bard… his children all seem a tad more mature than others." Bofur shrugged but must have noticed some uncertainty in my expression, as he took another moment to try to reform his explanation. What he didn't realize, though, was that I understood him thus far, and was mostly phased by the revelation that my new nieces, Belvira and Bavona, were the exact same age as I.

"Bombur's girls are still considered children…" I lamented before he could continue.

"Now you see why Kili and Fili bugged you about it so much when they found out your true age?" he asked, peering at me with a raised brow from behind the rim as he took another sip. I chewed my lip, processing, and then urged him to elaborate further.

"Fine then, how old would I be, if I were a dwarf?"

"Well, consider this. Dwarven parents and teachers don't have to rush as much as humans do because we have more time, and so we treat our young lads and lasses the way they've always been treated at certain ages, perhaps a bit over coddled to be sure, and so typically they act that way. We aren't viewed as full adults until age forty, and even then that would be a very young adult by human standards - maybe the age you were when you left for Bree."

"You didn't answer my question." I voiced, narrowing my eyes at him.

Bofur smirked and held up a hand. "Méra and yourself seem to be on a comparable… emotional level. Actually you're generally a bit more - ah - composed, I'd say. She's in her forties now I believe. Does that satisfy you?"

"No." I retorted indignantly in a most immature manner, causing Bofur to grin.

I mulled over his explanation for a moment longer, and then turned to him with a smile. "My my, Bofur, if I'm just such a 'young adult' dwarf as you say, and you're well into your hundreds… isn't that rather scandalous?"

Bofur chuckled, his eyes boring into mind for a moment. "Lass, we've gone so far past scandalous already, you and I…"

The heat of his gaze and the slow cadence of his words just then made a heat begin to rise under my skin. I tried to ignore it as I still felt a nagging worry to understand more about dwarven biology.

And I'm not well into my hundreds!" Bofur added suddenly and with mock offence, giving me a lifeline back to the conversation at hand.

"And aren't I lucky you've still got the body of a spry young centurian dwarf." I remarked teasingly while reaching a hand across to caress his chest. He moved to snatch it but I drew back before he could and rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

"If dwarves and humans age the same though, body and mind, and only the way we behave is different, why aren't you all old and senile? There's no way a seventy year old human could beat a seventy year old dwarf, no matter how well trained." It was a reality I had witnessed firsthand during the last stand in Dale at the Battle of the Five Armies. No amount of enthusiasm or skill or bravery had saved the eldest of our ranks when we charged from the Great Hall.

"Right." Bofur agreed, seeming only a little deflated after feeling he had done such a good job explaining up to this point. "Fact is, around forty years old when most humans tend to start to decline in one way or another, us dwarves just sort of… keep going. We keep getting stronger, and more skilled. That's why, by dwarven standards at any rate, it takes so many more years of gaining strength, skill and wisdom to be treated as an adult compared to what's required of a human."

I felt slightly vexed by his comment but I couldn't deny the fact that dwarves generally operated on a superhuman level, where even the most basic labour in their realm often required strength not generally found in even the healthiest of human men. It made sense that it took them longer to reach their full potential - to develop the necessary musculature alone, not to mention gaining skills and experience far beyond what a human could ever hope to achieve in one lifetime, all just to be considered a fully competent adult by the more mature members of their race.

I studied Bofur as I finished my tea, considering all he had told me. He didn't flinch or wither under my gaze but simply allowed me to look at him without reservation. We keep getting stronger, and more skilled, he had said, and yet with all his strength, skill, and wisdom gained throughout his 143 years, he had chosen me, and though I still couldn't quite fathom why, I knew in that moment that all his strength would be used to protect me, all his skills to support me, and I could only hope that he would continue to think his choice to be with me was a wise one.

Despite facing overwhelming physical and mental exhaustion after six days of almost nonstop revelry, I woke early on the final day of our wedding celebration feeling alert, acutely aware of the anticipation and excitement I felt for being nearly done with such a long and drawn out, albeit joyous and memorable, event.

Bofur, however, was still snoring softly beside me. My human requirement of needing to actually sleep every night seemed to be encouraging him to make a habit of it more often as well. My mind wandered back to snippets of our conversation from the day prior; Bofur was not considered a young dwarf anymore, and so he probably did benefit from regular and frequent sleep cycles, even if he didn't technically need as much rest as I did. Still, I decided he had no reason to overindulge in the habit, and so thought to wake him.

I propped myself up and leaned over so I could plant a 'good morning' kiss on his lips, but then I paused, hovering just above him. There was a sound from somewhere off in the mountain - distant yet growing louder - and as it got closer it dawned on me that it was someone speaking. No, more like a melody, so someone was...

"Singing?" I voiced aloud, looking off towards our front door with puzzled expression.

Bofur grinned wryly. Had he been awake all along?

"That'll be the family herald come to call us to our final day."

"Dori?!" I questioned with incredulity as I sat further up, straining to listen. I shivered and tugged all the blankets up around me to ward off the cold, earning a small complaint from my husband who was now mostly uncovered. As the singing grew to a dramatic crescendo what sounded like right outside our quarters, Bofur pushed himself over and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing his face.

"More than a few enthralled couples have missed the final day of celebration in times of yore, either passed out drunk, sleeping after partying for six days straight, or doing all manner of depraved things to each other. Can't say I don't blame them." He added with a wink back at me. "The herald is a way to make sure we show up."

Dori had started on a new song, or verse, or restarted the last one. I wasn't quite sure as it was in khuzdul, but this time it seemed even louder than the first. My eyebrows lifted pointedly, inquiringly at Bofur, who noticed my expression and seemed to understand what I was asking without even needing words.

"He'll be out there singing the whole time, and louder with each verse. So we'd best get ready - for such a soft spoken old bloke he's got quite a set of pipes on him, and he hasn't even started banging on the door yet."

I frowned slightly and Bofur raised his eyebrows at me in question. I abandoned the blankets and then crawled across the bed towards him. Perching behind him on my knees, I draped my arms around his bare shoulders. He was always so warm to the touch and I leaned into him greedily, still feeling chilled since I was only wearing a sleeveless nightshirt.

"I was just hoping for more of a relaxing start of the day." I said somewhat listlessly close to his ear. Bofur hummed in agreement, reaching a hand up to clasp one of my own. I smiled and then sidled up beside him. The singing had quieted, and I felt we must surely have a moment's respite, especially if Dori had already been singing all the way from his room. I placed a hand on Bofur's chest and applied a gentle pressure to encourage him back onto the bed. He submitted and laid down without question as I straddled his hips and then leaned in to give him that 'good morning' kiss afterall. His hands were just beginning to slide up underneath my shift when all at once the song started again, this time in what could be best described as sing-shouting accompanied by a heavy, rhythmic pounding on our front door. I groaned, flinging myself off of Bofur and out of bed, while he sat up chuckling to himself but shaking his head somewhat piteously.

"One more day, then tomorrow is ours and ours alone." he assured me, getting up as well.

"You know, when Dori mentioned singing, I thought he just meant some little recital at the ceremony itself, or else I may not have agreed to him doing it." I grumbled, wincing as the pounding on the door paused momentarily only to allow us to best hear a crisp high note that grated on my eardrums.

"He's actually quite good compared to some of the other dwarves I've heard do this stint, believe it or not. His pitch is flawless." Bofur commented while pulling on a shirt.

"I like your singing better." I replied with a grin as I tossed him his belt, to which he smiled appreciatively and promised me a song.

We worked in relative silence then (besides the obvious and increasingly loud singing), our efforts wholly focused on readying ourselves doubletime in order to put an end to our herald's ceaseless assault of noise. When we finally burst out of our quarters, however, Dori simply nodded amiably at us, concluded his verse, cleared his throat and then began a new song as he slowly began to make his way back down towards the festivities.

I turned and looked at Bofur with no small degree of agitation.

"Let's just let him get a good few paces ahead, shall we?" he remarked, hooking his arm with mine and patting my hand comfortingly.

After we arrived and the singing was finally concluded, I tried to thank Dori without sounding too irate, then found I was surprisingly eager to resume my seat at the table and carry on with much quieter duties such as greeting the last of the well wishers. While I was relieved that the queue of supporters was quite short today, I couldn't help but notice the hall was almost as packed as the first day of the wedding. I knew it must be due, in no small part, to the tradition of saving the best food and drink until today, and I was happy to let the masses indulge themselves as it meant our own meals were fit for a king - in fact it was likely the same menu as what Dain and his family were treated to.

The second reason to withhold the larder's best until the final day was apparently to lure everyone back to bear witness to the fact that Bofur and I had endured, and in fact survived each other thus far. While there was little by way of official ceremony planned on the last day, it was a show to the community as a whole that even after seven continuous days of relative stress and fatigue, we were fit to be together.

So it was that the final day of our wedding passed without much ado. The gift givers and congratulators came and went, and by mid morning the patrons of the hall began to stray - their duty of observing our successful final day now served. Many company members and friends pulled up chairs around the head table, which transformed into a buffet as more people joined us laden with tantalizing leftovers from throughout the hall and added to the potluck. Stories were told, songs were sung, and the hours of the day slipped by.

Eventually, I found myself content just to sit and listen, looking about at the dwarves gathered around me - my family. Dori was telling Gloin and Bifur about the strangest dream he had, where the three of them were back in the trollshaws, but they were the trolls.

"And then dwarf Dori came and hit me in the jambags, and I woke right up!"

Bifur nodded sagely, but Gloin simply glowered and shook his head, turning to listen to the conversation on his other side. The banker seemed to be more approving of the subject being discussed, though I had missed the beginning and so only saw Dwalin viciously miming punching something held in his other fist. He paused when he noticed I was listening, fist poised and ready for another hit, grinned a bit sheepishly, and then continued.

"...and that's the only true and proper way to work a sourdough."

This time he had Gloin nodding approvingly.

Even the king joined us late in the day, much to Méra and Barís's embarrassment as he was getting a little inebriated after seven straight days of drinking toasts to his health and the health of the bride and groom married beneath his halls. He regaled us with stories of his youth, some appropriate, some not, but the one most fitting for the occasion was the tale of how he had entered into courtship with Barís, though most of the detail seemed lost save for those concerning the conquest involving a hunting trophy given to her family as part of their marriage contract.

"Then out of nowhere, the biggest warg you've ever seen! Its hide littered with the weapons of fallen warriors! Its face scarred with one dead eye. I hefted my hammer and-"

The tolling of the seven o'clock bell brought a revered silence over the dwarves that remained in the Hall of Kings. Stories trailed off mid-sentence, food was dropped back onto plates, and everyone rose to their feet. I admittedly wanted to hear the end of Dain's tale, but given that Méra had been begrudgingly mouthing the story word for word made me sure I could get the abridged version from her.

The sobering up of the atmosphere was almost as impressive as that of the King. Dain cleared his throat as the seventh booming ring echoed and faded away to nothing. He then rose and was instantly as composed as I had ever seen him.

"Come." he urged Bofur and I, then held Balin's gaze as well for a moment before nodding and walking off towards the hall's main exit, sure-footed and somber as if he were walking through a recent battlefield. The king's advisor straightened his robes, and then held out an arm to beckon us to follow. Bofur smiled and offered me his hand, then flashed a muted smile at those gathered before leading me onward. I had been given notice of this final step of the wedding, so it didn't catch me off guard. I gave a small wave to Méra and her mom, grinned excitedly back at those about, and then followed Dain and Bofur with a send off of kind words and hearty pats on the back.

Dain mounted the stone dias at the epicentre of the throne room and turned to face us, a small warm smile on his face as he watched us progress across the stone bridge between rows of statues that stared down upon us. He held something of a twinkle in his eye, and I could almost guess fondness in his voice when he spoke.

"You know I heard almost nothing about you before you joined Thorin on his fool's quest?" he commented to Bofur, which caused my husband to narrow one eyebrow and cock his head questioningly, unsure where Dain was going with that.

"But you had heard of him." I dared suggest, taking his less formal tone as a cue that I could cut in. "All good things, I hope?"

Dain's laugh filled the hall.

"I heard that a miner, a tinker and a toy-maker were acting as Thorin's self proclaimed 'honour guard' in the Blue Mountains…" he began with a small degree of derisiveness creeping into his voice. I opened my mouth again, but then finally recognized the odd twinkle in Dain's eye - it was caused by the same mischief usually shown in my husband.

"I didn't know what to think - I suppose Dwalin was lucky Thorin didn't just send him packing when you intimidating lot showed up to get the job done."

"At least we showed up." Bofur drawled slyly with a smirk, which caused Dain to brandish a finger.

"Hey! Don't ruin the moment you silver tongued bastard. Besides, late is better than never. If we hadn't shown up, you'd be a pretty elven pincushion. Look, I just wanted to say you'd have done my cousin proud, but you had to go and run your mouth off…"

His gaze trailed over to me.

"And you, I knew you were a stubborn lass the moment I laid eyes on you, but how you stick it out with this cocky git is beyond me. Can't say as I've ever met another who could put up with someone with such delusions of grandeur - with someone so conceited, pig-headed and rash."

"I think your wife might have some experience with that." I offered sweetly. Dain glowered dramatically, then his composure broke and he shook his head with a wry smile and then exchanged glances with his advisor.

"By the maker, Balin, I can't take anymore of their abuse. If even a king's judgement can't shake their faith, then it's settled. Your union has been recognized by the king and community as binding. You have shown each other the truth, honour and loyalty of our people, and now you have been wed. Go now from this place, under the gaze of our forebears', to be seen now and to the end of our lines as One."

The walk back to our quarters was spent in pensive silence on both our parts. I was busy ruminating on the past seven days, and, now that they were coming to a close, I felt an odd sensation of surrealism permeate my introspections. I was now married, fully and legally, and by all the compulsory standards of Erebor and its people, to Bofur - the nice dwarf with the funny hat that had incidentally charmed me into falling in love with him after a wayward encounter during two very different, but parallel quests. We were now wed, despite so many hurdles, including threats to our very lives on the journey to Erebor, misunderstandings that nearly destroyed our relationship, and ancient customs that had to bend, a good measure too, by the graces of the new king in order to even allow our pairing to become official.

By the time we closed the door behind us after entering our rooms, I was feeling slightly heady with a combination of wonder and gratitude for our serendipitous union, but also a tad wistful that the long-winded fanfare of our wedding was now over. Being somewhat overwhelmed by my emotions and the gravity of the day's end and what it meant, I simply turned and smiled unsurely at Bofur, at a loss of what to do or say.

He smiled back, though seemed to take a moment to collect his own thoughts before finally breaking the silence.

"So, here we are then, no obligations to get up early, no Dori regaling us with his vocal talents, no reason to keep our clothing wrinkle-free…"

"You really know how to charm a woman." I chided with a small grin.

"Being a tad presumptuous aren't we?" Bofur smirked and raised an eyebrow as he took a step closer to me. "I was just saying, seeing as you've never owned clothes without wrinkles before you met me…"

"Are you trying to seduce me or just insult me?" I retorted playfully, though I shot him a semi-fierce glare all the same. "You should watch your tongue, or you might find that I want the bed all to myself tonight."

Bofur snorted and took another step closer. "Oh you can keep the bed." he replied with a wink, his voice slowing down to the rich tonality that I always found so enticing. Suddenly his hands were on me and he pushed me back against the nearest wall with enough force to make an audible thud and make me gasp in surprise, but not enough to actually hurt. Pressing his body flush against mine, he then raked his mouth against my collar and neck, pausing for just a moment to declare: "I wasn't planning on using it anyway."

I succumbed to his wants and desires then, giving myself to the advances of my husband as the rest of the world blurred, and only moments of clarity washed like waves on a shoreline through the throes of my passion.

The tear of my dress as he pulled it too roughly up over my head.

My corset giving way to his advances and goosebumps rising on my skin as the cold air met my nakedness.

The feel of the cool stone wall against my back, scraping its roughness with my nails as his head dipped down between my legs.

And then the dizzying euphoria as he rose back up, swept me off my feet and entered me, and we truly became one.