AN: I have three chapters of slice of life royal family shenanigans left, maybe four, this fic will get longer if you have any requests for characters moments you would like to see.

Chapter 27 - Rebraiding

Despite the battle brewing in the South, Dain's army found itself idle in Erebor.

Or, idle in the sense that they were out of active combat, for idle dwarrow seldom were.

The caravans from Ered Luin and the Shire could not hope to make the journey until spring, and even then, they would be taking the road through the Gap of Rohan, which would take months longer than their own journey.

Thus, it was left to those of the Iron Hills to clear the wreckage of Erebor.

Many saw this as their due, not just to the dwarven king who all had underestimated and refused to answer the call of, but because of past dues.

The Iron Hills had not been a large enough settlement to absorb any but the extreme elderly, mothers with babes, and orphaned bairns, all others had been turned away once the infirmary camps treating dragon burn victims had exhausted their resources.

No one could say that the Iron Hills had not done what they could, yet there remained regret for the greatest dwarven nation that had been forced into exile, like their kin had been forced from Khazad-dûm. It was a humilition ill-born.

Thus it was that the Iron Hill dwarves, a portion of whom had been born in these halls, took to rebuilding Erebor with gusto.

If their armies were being fed by their elvish neighbours who had abandoned them in the past, their appreciation went to the King's Consort, though perhaps such appreciation was more than it ought to have been grudging.

Yet work continued despite Thorin being at wits end with the Elders Council. Dwarrrow that had never served his father but his grandfather.

Thorin was about to do something that Balin might never forgive him for but things had gotten ridiculous, these dwarves had not been on the road, chased from their homes by a dragon but settling in the Iron Hills not journeyed to the sparse encampments of Dunland.

They were Ereborian, yet they didn't respect Thorin; they didn't know him. Their respect was to the throne, not to him, not to his heirs born in Ered Luin.

He was done with it.

Round the great table sat the Council of Elders and the Trade Guildmasters; some had apprentices or heirs with them. There were empty seats among the Iron Hill Guildmasters, in fact, there was only Dain's Master of Arms who would one day take after her mother as Iron Guildmaster in Erebor. All the others were honourary as true guild leaders tended not to travel with armies.

Thorin had refused to officially name any among Dain's people to the guilds as he had his own Councils that would be here by next year.

Now that they weren't moving, he was able to exchange communication with Dis. She had affirmed that the majority of Ered Luin had chosen to migrate to the Lonely Mountain whether or not their ancestors hailed from the east.

All this was to say that the insult Thorin was about to sentence to his grandfather's Elder Council would be acutely felt.

Thorin had invited the company to this meeting, all but Bilbo was present, Saradoc sat to his left in the Consort's seat, Balin to his right, Kíli and Fíli to Balin's right. In the throne room, Kíli and Fíli would stand to his right and Balin below the dias. In meetings, however, Kíli and Fíli were as much Balin's apprentices as they were Thorin's. If Frerin was here he would sit above Balin.

Frerin would succeed Thorin only in the case of an early demise; Kíli was too young yet to be thrust into the role despite being the rightful heir.

Dwalin stood behind them while the rest of the company sat at the far table as functional guests, holding no titles of their own.

Thorin let things get out of hand, purposely brought up the elves when the debate seemed to naturally lull. He stopped Balin from speaking with a visible-enough gesture that protocol rendered him mute. Balin was naturally suspicious as they entered the third hour with not a single thing decided. For most of the company, this was their first time witnessing the 'royal court' and thus were not snoozing but trying their best to decipher the chaos and pettiness around the table.

Saradoc was sinking into his seat and looked ready to cover his ears. He looked rather like a wilted flower, in all honesty. While hobbits could be rambunctious, loud laughter, prone to drunken conversation, and cheering on pub songs an entire night away, there was a market difference from that jovial boisterousness and the angry Khuzdul be thrown about here.

Kíli was wide-eyed, while Fíli looked almost disgusted by the behaviour he was witnessing from what should have been his esteemed leaders.

The expression he wore was one of Bilbo's.

Thorin doubted Bilbo would have let this go on so long.

Saradoc's own Hobbitish sensibilities finally got the best of him; he leaned toward Thorin to ask, "Is there something being solved here?"

It was easy enough not to smile and he had every intention of answering when one of the Elders took the bait.

"What is the halfling conspiring about?"

Saradoc huffed and muttered under his breath, "At least he insulted me in Common."

The closest elder, Hesir, heard, "You have no right to learn our language."

Saradoc straightened in his seat. "I do not remember asking. And I must say, true or not, it is quite rude to make accusations. Us hobbits have our own language and you will never meet one of our kin demand another speak it or not speak it."

Hesir scoffed, "What simple language could halflings have? Derived, no doubt, by some simplified form of elfish."

" Common is a simplified form of elfish," Fíli cut in. "The Green Speech evolved from the blessings of Yahvanna. Most who were not raised with it have difficulty hearing it, much less the ability to learn it."

Hesir sneered at Fíli, "Right, you were raised in one of the halflings' hovals."

Saradoc gaped, unable to respond to the level of rudeness being exhibited.

Thorin stood, a line being crossed that he could finally take action on, " Enough! How dare you level insult against my consort and his kin? Those who, even now, shelter our people in homes far warmer than the collapsing sections of Ered Luin and with every comfort imaginable. The hobbits of the Shire have shown our people more kindness and hospitality than has ever been offered to us by any outsider in remembrance. Hobbit, not halfling, is the correct term, which you have been told, leaving me to believe either your intention was to alienate our allies or your age has outpaced your duties to this council."

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

Thorin savoured it.

"We are your Elders," another elder spoke, Usan.

In their culture, elders were revered and calling them 'too old' to pass wisdom was to say they were useless.

Dwarrow hated being useless.

Thorin didn't look to Balin as he answered, "No, you were the youngest of my grandfather's Elder Council, or you would have been Elders of my father's court. It is time for you to retire. My Council of Elders, reside with Dís and upon their return, I plan to reinstate the majority of them that are willing and able to take on the scale of trials ahead of us."

Hesir scowled. "But they are not here. Who would you replace us with in the year to come that will be the most difficult Erebor weather upon being reclaimed?"

Thorin nodded and answered what was probably intended as a rhetorical question. "Gloin Durinson will be in charge of the Treasury until Princess Dís returns to the Lonely Mountain. Oin Durison remains a talented healer; however, direction and management is necessary for those suffering from long term ailments and the other healers. His age recommends him to becoming our Elder of Healing. Dori's understanding of cloth will prove necessary as winter approaches, and while on the younger side, I trust few as I would trust him as the Elder of Welfare."

Dori was gripping the table as he gawked at Thorin, Nori and Ori leaning into him as if holding him up, or possibly for their own support.

"Bofur's stone sense is unparalleled. I need him to have the authority to direct our miners in clearing out and fortifying the damage caused by the drake. Thus, I am electing him as the Secretary of Mountain Integrity."

Bofur looked flabbergasted. Typically, that role was held by an elder who was a master architect. The position demanded that any construction plans and miner guilds must consult with him before moving a stone in Erebor.

In years past, this was about beauty and history while the safety responsibility fell on the miner and architect guildmaster who was responsible for overseeing the application of design plans. But safety now super succeeded historical integrity, something many would likely resent given to a young dwarf born in Ered Luin.

"Finally, due to my consort's relation to Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flowers, our relationship with the elves has never been better, thus, for the time being food is a matter of diplomacy that myself and Balin can handle.

"Yet, where food stores were something Princess Dís and Prince Kíli have managed in the past, I would like to create a new seat among the Elders and elect Bombur as temporary Food Treasury Secretary."

Angry mumblings surrounded the hall, but shock kept their voices from rising.

"When the hobbits join us, it will be a position they will elect among themselves," Thorin continued.

That set them off again.

The company remained silent, still in shock.

One voice called out above the others, "What justification–"

"Every dwarf of the company who answered my call to face the dragon owns one-fifteenth of the wealth of Erebor. Any wealth given out is either loaned by them or gifted by their grace. If the magnitude of Erebor's wealth does not entitle them to some sort of trust, then may it be by their courage and the honour of their deeds to the Crown," Thorin said.

Hesir, seemed because he was intent on digging his own grave, "You have given two potions of our wealth to non-dwarrow, it is shameful."

Saradoc looked ready to kick his feet on the table. "We don't want your forsaken gold. We're hobbits; what use do we have for gems and metal aside from pots and garden tools? It should please you to know that both I and your King's Consort turned down the 'prize' offered to us."

"Then why is it one-fifthteenth?" Hesir sneered, as if he were one. "Sixteen set out, which means one of your kind must have claimed that prize or it would be one-fourteenth."

"One-fifteenth for sixteen members of the company, not including the wizard," Kíli interrupted. "Saradoc asked for land we have never used for his people while Bilbo bequeathed his share from the beginning to my mother, Princess Dís of Erebor."

Hesir looked startled at this but his words were just as venomous. He was, or had been, the Elder of Integrity, who had just been replaced after all. "He gave it to your sister and not the son he claims to have adopted?"

"I am adopted," Fíli said. "Without Bilbo and his mother, I would be dead several times over due to the traitors among our race. He gave his share of the treasure to my mother because he regrets the years lost to my family. Because he would have followed me on this journey for nothing. He would have followed his Heartsong for nothing ."

"His what?" Usan asked.

"His One," Thorin explained. "As he is my One. As far as gifting his wealth to my sister, I could ask for no better courting gift, and when Dís returns to the Halls of Mahal, all her wealth becomes Kíli and Fíli's. Meaning, that five-fifteenths of the treasure belongs directly to the throne and will pass to the next King of Erebor. Another four fifteenths belong to my cousins of the Durin line, seven fifthtenths if you include the Ri brothers. This is the reward for their loyalty to the line of Durin and the future of our people."

"We are still vital to this kingdom's success," Hesir argued.

"No, you are not," Thorin said. "You are Dain's people; you have experienced none of the tribulations of our years of exile. You did not fight in the Battle of Khazadum, you were never forced on the long road west. In your own words, reclaiming Erebor was a death wish. So you will retire and those I have given titles to will deal with our reality rather than pretending we have the resources to recreate the past without allies."

"The Arkenstone remains missing," Usan said.

"As far as I am concerned, the Arkenstone lost its symbolic nature of the right to rule when a dragon set fire to this mountain and roosted on it. You are all dismissed."

He raised his voice at the end, over the rising tide of protests. He stood without meeting Balin's gaze as he got a head start before anyone could question him.

oOo

Frerin hadn't spent much time with his brother-in-law alone but he rather liked the fellow.

Bilbo laughed as Frerin described the ship that had taken him and Kíli into the sea to 'test run' their craftsmanship.

"Did they truly believe dwarrow would be less talented with wood?" Bilbo asked.

Frerin scoffed, "Most men aren't that impressed with our metalwork either, but most men don't know what they are looking at, much less have the skill to craft themselves. So, no, he didn't believe we had fixed the rutter by changing the design of it. However, when we were taken on by pirates, it was only the ship's ability to change direction abruptly that saved us. Good thing too, Dís would have had my head if I allowed Kíli to encounter pirates."

Bilbo sniggered, "Did Fíli tell you the time Arwen carried him on her back because he couldn't keep up?"

Frerin's eyes widened along with his grin, "No, do tell."

"We were on our way to the Golden Wood when we came upon a wild group of wargs. Fíli was full size then, but elves scooped us up faster than he could draw his sword. Lord Elrond's wife was harmed dearly in such an encounter. So our group was always large enough to handle it, but it was the elves' policy for the youngest of us to run even if we could fight. Fíli had just finished his masterwork, he was mortified."

Frerin laughed. "I couldn't have done that to Kíli if I wanted to, but I promise his mother would have loved to."

Bilbo smirked, "I'd be more sympathetic to his plight if he hasn't on occasion done it to me."

"You are a wee thing," Frerin teased.

Bilbo grinned back, "Centuries of short jokes directed at your people and you're all going to be the tall ones."

"And all those jokes will die when they remember it was the two supposed 'halflings' who killed a dragon."

"Bard killed it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Frerin said sacrastically. "The two hobbits who riddled a dragon face to face, tricked it, blinded it with a triton and with a letter opener."

"A fancy pitchfork," Bilbo corrected. "Just because you cover it in gold doesn't destroy its primary function."

Frerin chuckled and reached a hand out to his brother-in-law's burned side, gently touching his curls and leaning forward to press their foreheads together. When he spoke, it was in Khuzdul. " I am proud to call you kin, little brother. "

Bilbo let out a breath before placing a hand to Frerin's side.

It was an intimate gesture but really, Bilbo was merely touching where Frerin's dragon burns with. He had shared his story of losing his mother, of her dying to protect him.

He had been told it was survivor's guilt when he regretted surviving her. Surviving dragon fire when so many hadn't.

But years later, when the horror of the scale of Smaug's desolation had aged within him, confronting the fresh horror of watching his older brother's One scream as the healers tried to piece him back together, Frerin could feel only gratitude that he was alive to see his family grow.

Frerin pulled back, "So have you and Thorin decided when you're going to try to have pebbles?"

Bilbo allowed the moment to pass without further comment. "I was hoping next year, but I don't know if Thorin will feel that Erebor is ready."

"Thorin has wanted pebbles of his own since Fíli was born."

"Not Kíli?"

Frerin snorted. "Thorin and Dís's husband were convinced Dís was going to die. It wasn't till the second one that they were assured she was strong enough."

"You weren't afraid?" Bilbo asked.

"Dís and I watched our mother burn, Dís is far stronger than Thorin gives her credit for. Though, he is our older brother, I suppose he is duty bound to worry for us."

Bilbo huffed, "I always wished I had siblings. We're having at least three faunts."

"Because you don't need to bear them, Thorin will want as many as you will allow him. Why didn't your parents have more?"

"They did try, but it's not really up to us, it's Yahvanna's blessing you need to have faunts. For either way producing pebbles."

"So it's possible you might not have–"

"No, I feel it. The spark. My mother said she only felt it once."

Frerin shook his head, "For the most overlooked of the free races, it is amazing how close to the Valar you are."

"Is it not the same for you, with your crafts?"

Frerin shrugged, "The stone is alive for us, our crafts are living art for us. But plants? Yahvannah's blessings are not rivers of silver waiting to be mined. It's a partnership for you, isn't it?"

Bilbo smiled, "My mother used to say that injuries were growing things trying to find each other, they only needed time to get there. When I'm growing my garden… It's like returning to a family, it needs tending, it needs love, to become everything it could be, but without me, it's a family that will keep growing. Yahvanna will keep them or send another of her keepers."

Frerin shook his head. "I can see how Thorin fell in love with you. I see how Mahal loved his wife."

"What are you two talking about?" Thorin asked as he entered through the open bedroom door.

Frerin leaned back in his chair to smirk at his brother, "Pebbles and how many Yahvanna might grant you. All I'm saying is that you better wait for Dís and be sure someone else has her responsibilities so she can mind them whenever she likes."

"I feel I owe her at least that much," Bilbo said.

And that was why Frerin loved the hobbit. He knew the grief Dís had suffered at losing her One and son. He knew even though he had no sibling of his own what it had cost Kíli to lose Fíli even after he returned them to each other.

Thorin was undoing his boots and kicked them off before continuing to undress.

Frerin raised a brow, not because he was bothered, nudity wasn't a problem for dwarrow, but usually Thorin conducted himself with more grandeur even when he was pounding old horse shoes in a lean-to ankle deep in mud.

Bilbo, however, seemed appreciative of the display as his husband joined him under the covers, wrapping himself around the hobbit's waist. Bilbo's hands immediately went to stroking Thorin's hair.

"Isn't it early for you to be turning in, love? Not that I mind the company," Bilbo asked.

The hobbit was on strict bed rest. While he was healed, his skin was still overly sensitive and between the strain of healing burns so rapidly and the trauma done to his person, the healers had insisted on bed rest. As well as eating because apparently even the extra portions they had been sure to give the hobbits along the journey, both Saradoc and Bilbo had been starving themselves.

"I'm done for the day, Balin will be too furious sorting out the implications of my recent edicts for it to be productive for us to get any other work done. Besides, I fear I've been neglecting you."

Bilbo's laugh was a musical thing, bringing light to the sparsely furnished room. "Hardly, my dear one. But I am glad to have you with me all the same."

"What did you do exactly?" Frerin asked.

Thorin had made such a fuss this morning when he asked Frerin for a 'huge favour' as if they were dwarflings and Thorin was bribing Frerin with sword lessons if he distracted the guards so Thorin could sneak down to the forgers for extra time with his craft.

Sitting with his brother-in-law hadn't seemed like such a favour but now Frerin saw that there was something else Thorin had planned.

People who did not know him well often mistook Thorin's bold action and brooding demeanor to mean he would be a brute on the throne, a playable and predictable leader. Some of their own people assumed Dís to be the clever one.

Those people forgot how devoted Thorin has always been to his duty.

Dís was only half the ruler she was because she had learned at Thorin's side. She was the better diplomat, learning diplomacy when they had nothing to bargain with except for their labour.

But Thorin had trained under Thror and while Thain was born to madness, Thror's ailments kept him obsessed with his position as king. Younger than Fíli was now, Thorin had learned to be king, learned to be efficient when Thror demanded the impossible. Then Thorin had to relearn how to be king as their father and grandfather looked to the past as Thorin fought for their tomorrows.

Whatever Thorin had done or was doing was sure to be ruthlessly effective and almost certainly raised the hackles of the Elder Council.

"I took steps without informing Balin beforehand and likely made myself some enemies."

Bilbo stiffened and Thorin stilled in response.

"Bilbo?" Thorin asked.

The hobbit's hand tightened in Thorin's hair. "Can you afford to have enemies? Can we afford it?"

Thorin reached up to stroke Bilbo's cheek, "What's wrong?"

"We are thinking of having children together."

"Yes, and the dragon is dead," Thorin said.

"But it was other dwarrow who tried to end the line of Durin," Bilbo said softly.

Thorin sat up. "We killed them. Those offenders are all dead."

The hobbit shook his head, "But I don't even understand why it happened. Everything I know, everything I've learned about your people, is that your history is important, that Durin blood matters and dwarflings more so. It never should have happened, I don't understand."

Thorin sighed, lowering his head to touch their brows together. "Our losses in Khazad-dûm were immeasurable and we gained very little for our losses. The dwarrow who fell beneath honour and attacked us had lost everyone they cared for between the dragon and that battle. My grandfather led us to ruin, and neither I nor my father stopped him. But this is a new chapter in our lives. The traitors were dealt with."

Bilbo hugged him, "I just have such a terrible feeling that not all is well."

"Little brother," Frerin interrupted. "You were toasted by a dragon. All the magical healing in Middle Earth could not erase all the harm done. It's not just your body that needs to heal."

Thorin kissed Bilbo's cheek, "He's right, Lukhudel . Neither Oin nor your father has cleared you."

Bilbo frowned, "But you'll keep guards on Fíli and Kíli, right?"

"Don't insult me," Dwalin said as he entered the room.

"What did he say?" Kíli asked, breaking from the conversation he had been having with Fíli as they followed the older dwarf in.

"He's being over-protective," Fíli guessed with equal parts exasperation and fondness.

"Can we return to the topic of political disaster you just caused?" Balin all but demanded.

"Frerin, I need you to talk to the Royal Advisor," Thorin said. "Tell him that I told you nothing. And if he is unable to persuade you to his side, then my decisions stand."

Balin looked outraged, "He'll take your side."

"Not necessarily," Thorin said, wrapping his hobbit in his arms. "My brother has always been contrary by nature."

Frerin grinned as Balin rolled his eyes.

Bilbo smiled at them, "So what did my husband do that was so ill-advised?"

"He dismissed the majority of the Elders Council," Balin snapped.

Bilbo raised a brow, "I know Thorin is High King of the Dwarrow, but I didn't realise he could dismiss Dain's Council."

"No, they are Ereborian."

Bilbo raised a brow, "As in newly elected or–"

"They served King Thror," Balin said in a tone that dared them to challenge him.

"And they haven't died of old age yet?" Bilbo asked.

Frerin, Thorin, and the young princes laughed.

Dwalin grinned at his older brother, "He's not wrong."

"Who did you replace them with?" Bilbo asked.

"I elected Oin and Dori to the Elder Council in their place. I also titled Bofur and gave Bombur temporary position of food secretary until the Shirelings immigrate and elect their own Master of Food," Thorin explained.

"Excellent," Frerin said. "We can trust the company."

"We do not have enough friends here for that," Balin argued.

"This isn't about building a court, Balin," Thorin said. "It's about rebuilding from the Desolation. We do not have time to cater to the feelings of those whose remaining days number in mere decades. Dís will bring her court and their smooth ascent to power is more important than giving power to dwarrow who may fight to keep it. I do not trust Dain's people with the fate of the hobbits. I will not abide their pride when they never believed in the quest to regain our homeland to begin with."

Frerin opened his hands, "I agree with my older brother. If nothing else, the company will be efficient."

Said remaining company entered the room and it was Bofur who spoke first, "Thorin, have you completely lost your senses?"

Oin hurrumphed, "I think it was approierate, for example, as the new 'Elder of Healer' you all must obey when I say, get out, so our King Consort can eat and sleep."

"I'm not leaving," Thorin said.

"If you eat and rest as well, I'll permit it," Oin bargained.

Frerin swallowed a grin. The hobbits had lost a drastic amount of weight on this journey, however, Thorin had been sneaking his One extra potions and so he too was underweight.

Not that Frerin thought it had been the wrong choice when the hobbits had fought the dragon, but the consequences could be long-lasting if Thorin didn't start taking care of himself.

It was certainly Oin's way to feed two birds with one scone.

Fíli seemed ready to protest when Oin's apprentice stepped through the door laden with a large tray of food and tea, and the breath appeared to leave the lad's body.

Both dwarflings were putting an inordinate amount of energy into watching each other without looking at the other.

Frerin exchanged a look with Thorin, who was looking at Kíli, who was frowning at the pair.

"Alright, healer's orders," Frerin said as he stood.

Oin took the tray of food from the dwarrowdam who took the gesture as a dismissal. Something slipped from her pocket that Fíli caught.

Before he could call out to her, she was already gone.

Kíli pushed Fíli out of the room as he glared at his uncles.

Frerin winked at Kíli who huffed before disappearing from view.

Oin was fussing over Bilbo and missed the whole interaction.

"So that's Sonna," Bilbo mused.

"You've already met her," Oin said.

"Have I?" Bilbo asked with a frown.

Thorin stroked Bilbo's hair as he helped him stabilize his hand holding the teacup. "You weren't aware of much at the time."

Frerin ushered the others out before Oin had finished, "Both of you need to sleep. No strenuous activities."

" Oin ," Thorin warned.

But Bilbo laughed, leaving Frerin smiling as he left.

Thorin deserved every shard of happiness his hobbit shared with him.

oOo

Bilbo didn't think he should be this tired when all it seemed he did these days was sleep and eat.

He sighed as Thorin rose to put the now empty tray on the side table.

As much as he enjoyed the view, his thoughts were on the troubles his Heartsong was having rebuilding Erebor.

"I wish there was more I could do to help."

It was Thorin's turn to sigh, "Bilbo, if you helped anymore, you might as well become king and I your consort."

Bilbo frowned at him, "I did not kill the dragon."

"No you just blinded and drew it out of the mountain so it could be killed. You were only nearly maimed and killed for your efforts when no one else came to any harm."

Bilbo huffed, "I don't like being idle."

"You, Amrâlimê , make a wonderful honourary dwarf."

"Good, seeing as I'm supposedly the King Consort of Erebor, at least, I will be when I finally get out of this sick bed."

Thorin grinned, "May I comb your hair, my Consort?"

oOo

Bilbo nodded, wiggling into him as Thorin climbed back into bed behind him.

His love typically kept his hair tied back with a single ribbon. The braids he wore were tucked back; most of the time his hair appeared short with a bit of wave.

In truth, his One's hair had beautiful curls and the colour of burnt gold. Thorin pulled his fingers through the soft hair before reaching for the comb on the side table.

"I'm going to braid it properly," he warned.

Bilbo hummed before complaining, "But I can't even return the favour."

Thorin leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Let me take care of you, my dragonslayer."

Before Bilbo could muster a response, Thorin killed the shell of his ear.

Bilbo gasped and Thorin grinned as it continued until the hair that had grown much longer throughout their journey slipped through the silver bristles.

His hobbit moaned as Thorin massaged his scalp before finally beginning to section the hair. It was rare that a partner could fully dictate what their One's braids would be, but Bilbo had no true preference. It was something many dwarrow would envy. Even still, Thorin wove four small braids in the elvish style to expose his left ear.

One for his mother, one for his elvish father, and a looser one for his hobbit father, all he wove into the large dwarven two-part braid that symbolized a Father of Durin. The latter was a braid that Mori, Dís's consort, had worn after Kíli was born.

At his other temple he wove their marriage braid that marked him as King Consort where he reattached the bead he crafted for him. After which, Thorin began at Bilbo's crown and gently wove a waterfall braid that would show off his love's amazing curls.

He ended with retying the ribbon.

A loose braid like that was likely to fall out of dwarven hair without pins to hold it together. Bilbo's curls, however, held the design that would have taken hundreds of pins to achieve, symbolizing Adored Consort, typically only worn on coronation day or for some other major event or holiday.

The coronation braid without the trinkets meant something else. For a non-royal, it would mean 'Loved for Myself' or 'Honour Beyond Station'. For a royal to wear it without ornamentation meant something altogether more, it meant 'Consort Who Loves Their People Beyond Their Station.'

On days out, Thorin planned to craft him a gemstone flower crown of mithril that living blooms could be woven into during the warmer months. He also planned to craft flower pins to match in the winter months. Pieces light enough that Bilbo would feel comfortable wearing them regularly and suited his nature and Yahvanna'a blessings.

"Your hair is long enough that we could put it into a flower bun, so it's off your neck," Thorin said, kissing the back of his neck, causing his One to shiver.

Bilbo hissed, "We can't–"

Thorin hugged him and said in the Green Speech, " I love you. "

Bilbo laughed at his terrible pronunciation and melted back into him. His answer was in exotic accented Khuzdul, " I love you too. "

oOo

AN: Thoughts, Australian Shepard (Aussie) puppies, or feedback, pretty please?