Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Whenever she’d seen other women in Rohan preparing to get married, there had always been smiles, giggles of glee, happiness and laughter and blushes as they prepared and went off to be wed.

All Dernwyn could feel was panic.

Not that she was panicking about being married. No, she knew without a doubt that Fili was hers, and she was his, and that she loved him. She loved her stubborn and courageous and wonderful dwarf, and he was the only one she would ever want to spend forever with.

Perhaps panic wasn’t the right word. ‘Disheveled’ certainly fit right now, with her hair frayed and flying about. She was fairly certain Kili had called her ‘fuzzy’ a few moments ago before Bilbo had glared at him. It wasn’t an untrue statement, but that didn’t mean she wanted to particularly hear it at the moment.

She was frustrated, too. ‘Frustrated’ was a good word here. Because everyone, truly everyone, in Erebor wanted to help and she was grateful for it, she truly was. But there was only so much work to be done that wasn’t being taken care of by those who decorated the halls and made the dress and crafted gifts and sent out invitations. And that, perhaps, was her biggest problem.

Because Dernwyn of Rohan was bored. And when one had nothing to do, one tended to start doubting and worrying and fretting and, well, panicking. And without anything to do, her mind was starting to wander down paths of thought she didn’t want to think of.

She supposed she’d be better off if Kili’s whole reason for being there hadn’t been to tell her that his mother, Fili’s mother, had finally arrived in Erebor.

The air in the mountain was brimming with excitement to welcome back the last member of the family of Durin. Others were coming in the caravan with the Lady Dis, other dwarves that were being eagerly awaited. There were flowers everywhere and bright golden fabrics swaying with every breeze. The mountain had transformed itself into something magnificent, with Dis’s arrival only a mere week before the heir regent’s wedding to the ‘mighty Shieldmaiden of Rohan’.

It was truly ridiculous. Dernwyn couldn’t believe the titles she’d been given ever since she’d arrived. The women that had come on an earlier caravan of dwarves were asking her about fashion of all things. Fashion! She was a highlight and a hero, according to all of Erebor, and it was honestly almost too much to fathom sometimes.

At least she wasn’t alone in feeling overwhelmed by the attention, or by the concern over Dis’s arrival and subsequent reactions. It helped that Kili had been the one to tell her because he was concerned about his mother’s reaction to Legolas. It didn’t quite help that Bilbo was just as distraught, because Dernwyn would’ve given anything for the hobbit to never wear that look of self-doubt again. He was legally bound and soul-twined with Thorin now, and he didn’t ever need to doubt again. Especially since they’d apparently had quite the conversation on the road out from Hobbiton back to Erebor. Words that had escalated and left the others off to hide in the forest while Thorin and Bilbo had it out.

But it had ended with the two of them stronger than ever, and Dernwyn wouldn’t have been all that surprised if someone had told her they could speak to each other from their minds. All Bilbo had to do was share a look with Thorin, and the dwarf king with chuckle. Or Thorin would simply raise his eyebrows and Bilbo would shrug, as if knowing exactly what Thorin would ask. The most memorable moment had, perhaps, been Thorin stomping back into the main foyer of the royal ward, steam all but coming out of his ears, only to be told by Bilbo, “I know. Stop fretting so.”

“About what?” Fili had asked, confused.

Thorin had merely glared at Bilbo; not mad at the hobbit, but simply aggravated in general. Bilbo in turn had only raised an eyebrow. Thorin had let out a sigh, and Bilbo had given him a sweet smile. One that had finally, finally, lifted the dwarf’s mood, and he’d placed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead before leaving again. Only after he’d left had everyone turned to Bilbo. “What’s Uncle upset about now?” Fili had asked again.

Bilbo shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest,” but had turned back to his sorting of books, never seeing their wide eyes. They never had found out what it was.

“Dernwyn, dear, your hair,” Dori said as he came in from the closet. “Was it the crowds or the boys this time, and what have they driven you to?”

“Both, and a stiff drink, which I doubt anyone has,” she muttered. Dori handed her a brush – her least favorite, but the best at taming her hair – and a small flask. He gave her a quick wink and she gratefully took a strong pull. It was ghastly, nearly as bad as what Holdwine drank, but the burn felt good. She followed it all the way down her spine before handing it back to Dori with a nod of thanks.

She hadn’t been quite as sure about having someone follow her around all the time, or someone to chaperone her before the wedding day, but she had to admit, she’d found a friend in Dori. He reminded her of his younger brother, but where Ori would jump forward with all the vigor of youth, Dori would take a deep breath before planning what to do next. It was that patience that Dernwyn had found herself leaning on more often than not, lately, and she was glad for it.

“I think your hair’s lovely when it’s fuzzy, truly,” Kili said, still trying to backpedal from earlier. Bilbo rolled his eyes but didn’t attempt to shush him. His feet tapped nervously against the cold stone floor, and Dernwyn finally stood, her hair in some semblance of order.

She cupped Bilbo’s face and gave him a smile. “You’ve nothing to worry over,” she said. “Truly. If anyone’s got to worry, it’s me. You’re already married, and you’re not marrying Dis’s child. I am.”

“Yes, yes you are.”

Dernwyn felt the bitter taste of the alcohol she’d just imbibed. It sloshed in her gut, rolling unpleasantly as she turned to the door. She wasn’t quite certain what she was supposed to expect, but it was exactly what she had thought she’d see, in the end.

A dwarf with long dark hair stood before her, sideburns running past the ears towards the chin. Her hair was piled back on top of her head, not a strand out of place, unlike Dernwyn’s that seemed to keep floating with every speck of dust in the room. Her eyes were brown, much like Kili’s, but the eyebrow lift was all Fili. She was muscled and a bit larger than Dernwyn, but she moved gracefully, and Dernwyn could only imagine her on the battlefield. Taking off heads with a single blow, gutting orc by orc and knocking Dernwyn’s head off at the shoulders-

When Dernwyn blinked, the Lady Dis was much much closer, and looking at her with…concern? “You look as if you’re about to fall over,” the Lady said. “Kili, what have you done to her?”

“Me? I’ve done nothing!” Kili sputtered. “Go ask your other son! I’m not the one marrying her!”

“Which means you’re under no responsibility to her, and that means you’ll be yourself,” the Lady said dryly. When she pinned Kili with a look, she looked just as stern as Thorin could, but there was a twinkle in her eye, too. Kili gave a sheepish grin, and she finally smiled. “Is that all the welcoming your mother gets?”

Kili dove at her and held her close, and the Lady laughed, holding him back just as tightly. Dernwyn thought of her own mother, then of Morwen, and her chest ached so suddenly she felt as if an axe had caved it in. Bilbo moved up beside her, then in front of her, a warm comfort that let her focus. If she thought of Morwen, she’d think of…

“M’Lady,” Bilbo said, giving a bow when Kili had let the Lady go. “I’m-“

“Bilbo Baggins,” the Lady said, and her smile was warm. “Long have I waited to meet you, the little thief who stole back our mountain for our people, who saved Middle-Earth from the fate of the One Ring. And, who stole my brother’s heart. It takes someone of great soul and heart to match my brother’s stubbornness, you know. I hope you know what you’re getting into.”

With each kind word, Bilbo’s shoulders kept dropping, so much so that Dernwyn hadn’t realized how tense he’d been. “I’m well aware of exactly what I’ve gotten myself into, believe me,” Bilbo told her, and he offered her a bright smile. The Lady Dis’s smile broadened at the sight, and Dernwyn understood that. How could you not favor Bilbo? “It should be Thorin who’s concerned about what he’s gotten into.”

The Lady laughed, long and loud, and it was a merry sound. “I think you and I’ll get along well, Bilbo,” she said at last. “I look forward to having the chance to know for certain. Now, if the both of you will stop hiding my daughter to be…?” she asked, and Bilbo and Kili stepped back, Kili a little sheepishly, Bilbo a tad reluctantly. Without either of them, it was simply the Lady and Dernwyn.

The Lady’s gaze was long and gave nothing away, and Dernwyn wished she was back on the battlefield outside of Mordor, facing down troll after orc after Uruk-hai. It would’ve been easier. “My Lady,” she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She gave a short bow. “Well met; I hope your travels were kind.”

The Lady shook her head, and Dernwyn felt her heart stop. “Enough of this ‘Lady’ nonsense, and from you as well, Master Bilbo,” she said, pursing her lips. “We will be family and kin soon enough. Even if we were not, I would still ask you to simply call me ‘Dis’. Dernwyn of Rohan, your efforts might not be as well known throughout Middle-Earth as Bilbo’s, but they certainly are here in Erebor. I’ve barely set foot in the mountain and I’ve already heard of your deeds, along with those of the company’s. To be honest, they are magnificent, but matter little to me. What matters to me is that you saved my son’s life. You fought alongside him and your king, and you defended them. And that is what matters to me.”

Thengel’s face came to her mind: smiling at her as he gave her the glimmering sword, the tears in his eyes as he begged her to be safe. The blood on his lips as he whispered his parting words-

Dis came forward, and Dernwyn managed a nod. “I did, yes. And I would do it again, were it ever called for.”

“Do you love him?” Dis asked her, and Dernwyn didn’t hesitate in her answer.

“I could never love anyone else.” There would never be another for her. Ever. It would always be Fili and his bright blonde hair and his smirk and his honey eyes. His soft words, his warm embrace, she craved it all, and she could never do without them.

Dis gazed at her for another long moment, then slowly began to smile. “It’s there,” she said softly. “It’s all there in your eyes. And I am glad to see it.”

Dernwyn let out a quiet breath, feeling so relieved she thought she couldn’t stand. Then her legs trembled, just a little, and she found Dis steadying her with concern once more in her eyes. “Which one of my boys did it?” Dis asked. “Because you look as if you’ve hardly slept a wink, and weddings, though stressful, are still supposed to be fun.”

“They didn’t do anything, I promise,” Dernwyn assured her. “They’ve been nothing but kind.” The crowds, on the other hand, were a different matter. Worrying about the silent thoughts she refused to give voice to didn’t help, either. And worrying about meeting Dis, well. There had been that as well, but she wasn’t about to tell her that-

“Nah, she’s been worried about you,” Kili said, and Dernwyn shot a glare at him, eyes wide.

To her relief, Dis began to chuckle. “Then you’ve worried for naught. Both of you,” she said, pinning Bilbo with a look. Bilbo gave a small shrug. “Worried about me. Honestly.”

“I tried to tell them that,” Kili said, but when Dis fixed him with a look, he stopped. When she continued to stare at him, he finally began to fidget. “What?”

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you are also entangled with someone, son of mine,” she said. “And with an elf of all beings. Your Uncle must’ve had a fit.”

“Actually, Thorin gave his blessing,” Bilbo said. Dis’s eyes went wide. “A while ago. Before the Ring was destroyed.”

Dis blinked. That had certainly thrown her for a loop. “That’s…interesting,” she finally said after a moment. “Brother of mine and I will be having a talk, that’s for certain.”

She shook herself. “Kili, your brother will need aid in seeing to the caravan: you’ve done your duty in protecting your new uncle and soon-to-be sister, go.” Kili turned pink but took off for the door, much to Dis’s amusement.

“I’ve something to get to for the dress,” Dori said, and Dernwyn had nearly forgotten he was there. “Bilbo, would you mind helping me?”

Bilbo glanced at her in askance. After a moment, Dernwyn gave a nod, and Dis smiled again. Apparently the dwarf wanted to speak with Dernwyn privately. “Come fetch me when you need me,” Dernwyn told them. “I’ll be here.”

“Go on,” Dis said. “But not too far. For I would hear your tale, Bilbo Baggins, and not from the mouths of my sons, who tend to embellish far more than they should.”

Bilbo’s lips turned up in a grin, and then he was gone, the door shutting softly behind him and Dori. Dis sighed, rolling her shoulders, and Dernwyn suddenly felt awful for being as flustered as she had been. “You should sit,” Dernwyn told her. “You’ve been traveling for weeks now. Would you like tea?”

“If it’s handy,” Dis agreed, taking a seat at the small table off to the side. She sat with a groan, stretching her legs out. “It’s been a long journey indeed.”

Dernwyn soon had the tea in hand, and Dis murmured her thanks as she took the cup. She smiled after her first sip. “Bilbo’s doing, I would assume?”

“What gave it away, the fact that it was raspberry tea, or that it was tea at all?” Dernwyn said without thinking, and she froze, teacup barely to her lips. Dis, however, began to chuckle, and after a moment Dernwyn allowed herself to relax.

After a few moments of silence, Dis set her cup down, the sound loud in the quiet foyer. “You know, I thought I was the one who was nervous,” she admitted, and Dernwyn blinked.

“What? You, nervous?”

“I was told that I would meet the Bilbo Baggins, who had saved Middle-Earth and who was now kin, and a young Shieldmaiden of Rohan, who fought so valiantly at her betrothed’s side at the Black Gates of Mordor,” Dis said wryly. “I had half expected a letter saying that my sons were lost forever and my brother with them, and instead I received the news of you both instead, only to know that when I finally traveled to Erebor, I would meet you and Bilbo. You’re right, perhaps ‘nervous’ isn’t the right word.”

Given Dernwyn’s problem from earlier, she found herself smiling. “You know, I was having a similar issue with finding a better word for how I felt. ‘Disheveled’ certainly came to mind. ‘Panic’, too.”

“You look perfectly fine, dear, and you’ve no need to panic,” Dis assured her. “As I said, a wedding can be stressful, but it should also be fun. And you don’t look as if you’re having fun.”

“Well, now that I know you won’t separate my head from my shoulders, I’m doing much better,” Dernwyn said, and Dis’s long belly laugh was well worth the courage it had taken to say the words. Dis could be as stern as Thorin, but there was a playfulness about her, as well, and it was easy to see where her children had gotten it from. Instead of seeing her in battle, Dernwyn could well imagine her scowling at Thorin when he came home late, but embracing him not a moment later in relief.

Or stalking little dwarflings who took biscuits from the jar, catching them in the act and lifting them high into the air as they shrieked and giggled.

Dis wiped at her eyes, her laughter fading. “I think you and I will get along quite well, Dernwyn. It’ll be nice to have someone else to keep Fili and Kili in line.”

Dernwyn took a deep breath and finally felt the right word settle for her. ‘Calm’. She was most certainly ‘calm’.

If there was one thing that Dernwyn wasn’t at the moment, it was calm. She could pretend all she wanted, but Bilbo knew stress when he saw it. And right now, she was nothing but anxiety and nerves.

He’d hoped that meeting Dis would help. It’d helped Bilbo, that much was certain. He’d fretted and paced and told Thorin his anxiety was caused by everything from trying to remember the names of the Dwarven Council to the spices that Bombur had taken a fancy to from Dale. But in the end, he’d let slip to Fili and Kili that it was Dis’s arrival that had him in knots, and before the day had been out Thorin had spoken to him, telling him he had no need to worry at all. “Knowing my little sister, she’ll be tying herself into knots over you,” Thorin had told him. “To be honest, I’ve been dreading the day you both will meet, because you’ll join forces against me.”

His jest had helped, even while Bilbo had sworn to end the lives of his heirs. Thorin had just shaken his head with a chuckle.

When he’d met Dis, however, Bilbo had understood what Thorin had meant. She’d been calm and polite and ever so kind, but Bilbo had read the same worry in her eyes that Thorin carried. It was well hidden, unless you knew how to look for it, and Bilbo had known how to look. After that, his concern had gone to calming both Dis and Dernwyn.

Then it had just been about calming Dernwyn down.

She was doing a marvelous job of hiding it, or so she probably thought. Her eyes were just a bit too wide all the time, and her cheeks were usually a nice shade of crimson as she spoke more rapidly than usual. She no longer seemed to fear Dis, which was a great boon, but she was still worrying and fussing while trying to be as unobtrusive about it as she could.

Someone really ought to tell the poor girl that she wasn’t hiding it as well as she obviously thought she did. More importantly, she wasn’t hiding it from Fili very well.

Fili drained the goblet in front of him and slammed it back on the table. “She’s changed her mind,” he said with a dismal air.

Choruses of disagreement ran through the company. It left the otherwise empty hall echoing with their voices. “She’s just worryin’ about the dress,” Bofur assured him.

“And the invitations,” Ori chimed in. “She doesn’t like being the center of attention, and the number of people invited is probably frightening her.”

“Could be worried about you,” Kili said with a large grin, and Fili shoved his brother off the bench. Bilbo grinned as the company shared a laugh.

They all had different parts to play in Erebor, now. Running guilds or working the mines, leading dwarves or settling in newcomers. But they still managed to come together when they were needed, without even being called, and this table in the great hall had been designated theirs.

Thorin took a seat beside Bilbo, raising an eyebrow at one nephew, who was clearly distraught, and the other nephew, who was picking himself up off the floor. “She’s changed her mind,” Fili said despondently.

“She has not,” Bilbo insisted. “She’s just worrying about things. I worried a little before my wedding, too.”

Dwalin nearly spit out his drink, and Bilbo could feel the incredulous look his husband was leveling at him. Bilbo felt his neck warm. “All right, I worried a bit more than a little, but it wasn’t about the wedding!”

“If I hadn’t known you better, I would’ve said it was the wedding night jitters,” Dwalin muttered, and Bilbo scowled at him, cheeks burning.

Nori jumped in before Dwalin had a chance to embarrass Bilbo any further. “You think you’re stressed about this whole wedding thing? Fili, she’s got all of Erebor about up her skirts with this, and it’s all meant well, but she’s got every eye on her. I only had to meet her once to know that wasn’t what she wanted.”

“She had no problem helping lead an army into battle,” Fili said. “Every eye’s on you there, too.”

“But they’re not focused solely on you,” Thorin reminded him. “And she has much on her mind. Not just the wedding.”

“You’ve noticed, too,” Bilbo said softly. Thorin nodded.

Dori frowned. “She has been a bit more melancholy as of late. Mostly whenever we talk about the ceremony.”

“Thengel.”

All eyes turned to Legolas, who took a seat beside Kili. “It’s Thengel, is it not?” he said again.

A memory of the great and good king passed through Bilbo’s mind, and his hand drifted to the chain hanging from his vest into his pocket. There were two beads there, bright as they were the day they’d been gifted, and a horse medallion made of two pieces. One half had been given as a hopeful promise, the other half given in sorrow and memoriam. His chest tightened, and he leaned a bit more towards Thorin. His husband rested his hand on Bilbo’s back, a silent comfort.

“Think it’s a bit more than that,” Bofur said, after the whole table had been silent for a time. “Tradition with men’s a bit different. The bride’s supposed to walk-“

“With her kin,” Ori said softly, shoulders hunched. “With her father.”

Her birth father she’d lost as a child. Her blood uncle who’d raised her was riding as the Captain of the Rohirrim. And her second father, whose family she’d been counted among…

“She’s no one to walk her,” Ori finished quietly. “I imagine she could walk on her own, if she needed to. But she has no kin who can come. The Queen’s ruling Rohan, her uncle’s a Captain, and that’s it.”

“We’re kin,” Kili insisted, and Bilbo let out a sigh.

“It’s different, though. You’re Fili’s kin first, and yes, you’ll be kin after the wedding. But she has to want someone there who saw her as a young child, running around and coming of age. I have to imagine that’s where a lot of her anxiousness is coming from.”

Kili seemed to lean into Legolas the same way Bilbo leaned into Thorin. It was discouraging to think about, and Bilbo could only imagine how often Dernwyn thought of Thengel. He’d been her second father of sorts, and her last memory of him was nowhere near as kind as Bilbo’s was. She’d watched him pass on, had held him as he’d bled out and died.

“I’ll walk her.”

All eyes turned to Bofur. He nodded again firmly, eyes set and lips pursed. “If she’ll have me, I’d be honored to walk with her.”

Bilbo slowly began to smile. “I think that would be a lovely thing, Bofur. And I think it’d be all the better if she heard it from you.”

“And tell her that before she changes her mind,” Fili told him, and Kili shoved his brother. Thorin rolled his eyes. Bilbo was half tempted to join him.

“What? She could!”

“If she’s seen your ugly mug and already agreed, she’ll not be leavin’ now,” Dwalin said in what he probably thought was an encouraging tone, but the twinkle in his eyes spoke the truth. Fili glared at him, and Dwalin didn’t give stop chuckling until Ori elbowed him none too gently in the side. From the opposite side of the table, Bombur bit into another roll and shook his head. Bilbo decided that was probably the best way to go about things and did the same.

Honestly, Fili had nothing to worry about. Dernwyn wasn’t calm, but she wasn’t about to run off, either.

…At least, Bilbo hoped she wouldn’t.

Kili just really hoped Dernwyn wasn’t about to do what he thought she was. Because it would be selfish and terrible of her to do to Fili, and given that he was Fili’s brother, he thought something needed to be said.

What came out of his mouth, however, was, “Can I have a bite?”

Without a word Dernwyn shoved the plate filled with taste-tests of wedding cake over to him. Kili caught a bite of the pink one first – some berry of a sort – and let the taste explode over his tongue. Mahal but that was magnificent. “This one,” he said, his mouth full of cake. “Do this one.”

“Are you two honestly not waiting for Fili?” Dis said, raising her eyebrows at them both when she came into the kitchen. Kili set the next bite – something nutty, it smelled divine – back down on the plate guiltily. Dernwyn didn’t say anything but only pressed her finger down on the plate to press and catch the little crumbs.

Kili bit his lip, unsure of what to say. His mother seemed just as uncertain, which only left Kili all that more hesitant to do something. Dernwyn wasn’t manic anymore, trying not to panic so much that she wound up panicking all the more. No, she’d settled into a tired melancholy as she went through the necessary arrangements for the wedding: the flowers, the colors, the lace patterns. Days, they were mere days away now, but nothing left her with a genuine smile.

Nothing but Fili, really, and whenever his brother came around, it was a smile of relief as she clung to him tight enough to nearly rip his tunic.

Well, Bofur’d gotten a smile out of her, at least. Kili cleared his throat with a tentative grin. “You talked with Bofur, right?”

Dernwyn didn’t glance up from her task, but she smiled wistfully. Encouraged, Kili kept going. “You might even convince him to not wear his hat, brush his hair, get his braids to go flat and everything.”

There, a chuckle at last. Kili sat back proudly, wondering if this was how Fili felt whenever he worked to cheer Kili up. It was…rather nice to play a big brother, actually.

“Bofur’s had those braids in his hair for nigh on fifteen years,” Dis said, taking a seat between them at the table. There were a few others in the kitchen, but they were all off on the other side of the room, bustling about for the supper meal. Bombur was still there, keeping an eye on them to answer any questions or bring any more samples around. Kili wondered if he could get his hands on the berry cake. Legolas would probably love it.

“And there you go again,” Dis said, shaking her head. Kili blinked.

“Me? What now?”

“You’ve got the look of the truly smitten on your face: I should know, I wore the same look after your father asked for my hand.” Dis gave a soft sigh. “Fili might have his golden hair, but you’ve your father’s eyes. You always did.”

Surprisingly, it was this that brought Dernwyn’s voice back. “When did he die?” she asked. “Were you young?”

“Laden with Kili, Fili barely to my knees,” his mother said. “Mining accident. It happened a lot. Erebor’s mines are much steadier than others, and we certainly weren’t in Erebor.”

“You never met your father?” Dernwyn asked Kili. Kili shrugged. Truth be told, most days it didn’t matter. He’d never known of him, had only known a life with Fili and his mother and Thorin. That had been his family.

But there were days he wished he knew what his father’s voice sounded like. He wondered if his father would’ve been proud of his weapon’s choice. If his father would be proud of him at all.

“Thorin’s my father, of a sort,” Kili said. “I haven’t really needed another. He scolds me enough, I don’t know that I’d want someone else there telling me what to do.”

Dernwyn chuckled while Dis pinched his shoulder. “You wouldn’t need someone to tell you what to do if you didn’t act like a dwarfling,” Dis said. “You’re well past your coming of age!”

Kili stuffed the next bit of cake in his mouth just because he could. ‘Well past’ indeed. He wasn’t that old! It made him want to prank her, just to show her that he wasn’t ‘well past’ his younger years.

Then he reconsidered and decided that maybe that wasn’t one of his better ideas. Just because he was still young didn’t mean he was stupid.

Dis rolled her eyes at him and turned back to Dernwyn, whose smile was rapidly falling again. “Daughter mine, what’s the matter?”

Dernwyn stared at the plate ahead of her. “What if there are other battles?” she asked, and Kili blinked at the sudden turn of topic. Where had that come from? “What if…what if I have children and Fili never comes home?”

Oh sweet Mahal no. Even before Dis could say anything, Kili was rounding the table and kneeling in front of her. “Then we’ll be here,” he insisted. “Me and Thorin and Bilbo and Mother and Bofur and everyone. You won’t be alone. You’ll be safe, and your children will be loved. I’m personally looking forward to corrupting them and spoiling them rotten.”

Dernwyn’s smile was watery at best, but she still smiled through the shimmer in her eyes. Kili took her hands in his, just as Fili had done for him through the years. “If battle happens, if it happens, and if Fili never comes home…you won’t be alone. I promise.” How long had this been sitting in her head? Thinking of Fili going off to battle and not coming home, just like…

Just like her father, dying in battle and leaving her with only a mother and, soon after, no one. Just like Thengel, passing on and abandoning Morwen and their children. No wonder Dernwyn clung to Fili like he was her only lifeline.

“Next time this sits in your head, tell us,” Kili said firmly. “I mean it. You can’t sit here with thoughts like this when there’s more important things to do, like taste-test cakes before Fili gets here.”

“You will not, you’ll eat all the best pieces!” Fili complained, coming into the kitchen. “Dernwyn, Mother, keep the cakes away from him-“

Dernwyn had bolted from her chair and all but tackled him, cutting him off mid-word with a gasp of air. She buried her face in his tunic, fingers digging tightly into his back. Fili stared beyond her at Kili and Dis, confusion evident on his face.

Dis put her hand on Kili’s shoulder. Later. They’d tell Fili later. “It’s not their fault you’re late. You’re lucky I haven’t gotten into it, too.”

“Right, cakes,” Fili said, marching to the table, Dernwyn in his arms. He sat beside her, arm still wrapped around her, and Kili immediately engaged him in a light-hearted argument about nuts and berries. Soon the shadows were being chased from Dernwyn’s eyes, and she held onto Fili a little less desperately than she had before. It left Kili breathing a little easier.

Mahal, if this was how Fili felt all the time, worried about Kili so much, he owed his brother the best barrel of ale he could find, because it was exhausting and terrifying. Exhausting because his heart twisting itself around in worry for her. Terrifying because he didn’t want to get it wrong.

But they tasted cakes – nothing better than the berry cakes – and the line of Durin, minus one king, plus one soon-to-be Durin, passed the afternoon with sweets and feigned insults and a few chuckles.

“It’s beautiful,” Dori gushed. “It’s absolutely stunning, Dernwyn! You’ll float down the aisle!”

Dis had to admit, the dress was a thing of beauty. There were diamonds and precious stones covering the light white fabric. Lace covered a great amount of it, and the train seemed to flow on and on with golden embroidery.

Secretly, however, Dis was fairly certain that Dori was more ecstatic about it than the bride was.

After the other day, when Dernwyn had posed her startling question in the kitchen, Dis had taken to watching her more. She’d all but had to beat the story out of her brother, demanding to know why Dernwyn was terrified of losing Fili. Had Fili been so close to death in battle, to warrant the fear in Dernwyn’s eyes? Why hadn’t anyone told her that her son had nearly died?

Thorin had finally sat her down and soothed her soul in one manner, but had pained it in another. Dernwyn’s grieved past came to light: her father, her mother, her uncle’s injury, her king’s death. It was a past that would leave anyone’s future daunting. And in this regard, Dis knew that Dernwyn was just now feeling the fear of any woman who watched her husband and children go to war. The Shieldmaiden had long been on the front lines, in vengeance and duty. But her kin had fallen before her.

And now she was marrying one who would be king later, one who would lead his own troops, perhaps, and lead them into war and death.

But as Dis watched her more, Dernwyn began to finally begin to smile. Small smiles, smiles that echoed of what they could be, under less stressful circumstances. Underneath the shadows in her eyes and the worry that weighed her tongue down, sparks of the fiery young woman she was kept burning through, little by little, and Dis came to the conclusion her brother had: Fili had made a good choice. Dernwyn was a powerful and strong woman, wise but kind, and more than willing to tease Fili and Kili both. Perhaps once the wedding was over, she’d breathe a little easier, and Dis would have the honor of truly meeting Dernwyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

Dernwyn was trailing her fingers along the fabric now, watching her fingers glide across the silk. “It’s so light,” she said. “I hadn’t imagined it’d be so light. It’s nowhere near close to practical.”

Dis chuckled from her seat in the corner of the room. “It’s not meant to be practical, daughter mine,” she said. “It’s meant to be frivolous and beautiful. Here among the dwarves, this dress is supposed to be a fantasy, your truest desires. Of course, that’s lead to some…interesting dresses being worn to the ceremony.”

Dernwyn grinned brightly. “Were there any dresses with sickly yellow?” she asked.

“Worse,” Dori told her. “I’ve seen dresses with black to cover the bloodstains of the bar fight from the night before.”

Dernwyn bit her lip to keep from chuckling. “And here I thought you were going to reference the time when the bride wore a jewel so large in front that it pulled the dress near down to her knees,” Dis said, and was rewarded with a sudden laugh from Dernwyn.

Dori shook his head with a shudder. “Terrible day. Absolutely wretched. Not even the wine could save it.”

“All right, enough from you both,” Dernwyn scolded, but she was still laughing, so Dis merely smiled. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated.”

“Efforts? What efforts, daughter mine?”

The raised eyebrow Dis got for her innocent words reminded her of Fili. “To ensure I won’t be the worst looking bride that wanders through the halls of Erebor.”

“You won’t,” Dis said. “For any reason.”

A pause. “What if for the reason that I’m not a dwa-“

“Any reason,” Dis said, more firmly than before. “There’s not a single dwarf here in the mountain who would contest your right to marry Fili, and if there was, Thorin would want to know immediately. As would I, daughter mine.”

Dernwyn turned back to the dress, her fingers trailing over the jewels laid into the sleeves. “Why do you call me that?” she asked. “Daughter mine?”

Dis gave her what her father had long called her ‘Thorin look’. “Because you’re my daughter. I had assumed the words explained it all.”

Dernwyn rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft and shy. Satisfied, Dis leaned back in her chair and watched Dernwyn straighten out a piece of lace that wouldn’t lay right. To call Dernwyn her own felt entirely too selfish. Dis had always wanted a great number of children, and had desperately wanted a daughter of her own. To have one now that she could call her own was a gift from Mahal.

And now she also had an elf to call a child as well. Given that apparently her brother had all but adopted Legolas, son of Thranduil, she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she still was, every time she saw him. He stood so tall and bright, like a glimmering jewel amongst the caverns in the mountain. Yet for all his height, he never looked down upon any of them, and he was kind, which had surprised Dis even more. Given who his father was, she’d expected a certain personality.

It was good to know she could be proven wrong in the best of ways, still.

Legolas was kind and gracious to her, and was accepted by even Dwalin. But most of all, he adored Kili. It was in every gesture he made, every glance he sent Kili’s way. He was deeply in love, as if the very moon had been hung in the sky by her son, and it was this that had left Dis feeling much better about their betrothal.

The door opened, just enough for a certain hobbit to slip in through, and Dis smiled broadly. “Come to admire the dress?” she asked.

“I did, actually,” Bilbo admitted. “And to see the bride: Thorin and I are hosting a small, private celebration tonight for you and Fili.”

“No cake,” Dernwyn said, eyes wide. “Oh please no more cake. I don’t think I could stand to look at another piece of cake as long as I live.”

“Which will be difficult, given that you’ve a huge berry cake waiting for you tomorrow,” Bilbo pointed out. Dernwyn groaned. “I have to ask…why did you go with the berry…?”

“Fili and I didn’t care. Kili did.” Dernwyn looked to be regretting the choice now. “It’s a good cake, at least.”

Bilbo gave an ‘ah’ of understanding, but when he glanced at Dis, there was a smile playing on his lips. “So we should cancel the large cake for tonight…?”

“You’re a horrible person, Bilbo Baggins,” Dernwyn said, glaring at him. “And here I thought you liked me.”

Dis chuckled as Bilbo came forward, offering apologies that seemed less sincere with the grin on his face. Dernwyn waved him off with her hands, but she finally caved and embraced him with a laugh. They began to speak about other things, things that were decidedly not about the wedding, and soon Dori was chatting with them both. It happened so smoothly and swiftly that Dis could almost believe that it hadn’t been planned. Almost.

More than ever Dis was grateful for the hobbit, who somehow managed to know when to set someone at ease, and more importantly, how to do it. Surprisingly, it seemed to have rubbed off on Thorin as well: Dis wasn’t certain Thorin had ever been so willing to speak with another regarding feelings before in his life.

Yet she knew it had been her brother who’d offered to speak with Dernwyn about her loss, if she was willing. It had been startling, to say the least. She’d half expected him to be joking with her, but that would have been odd, too.

More and more she could see why Bilbo Baggins was beloved by all in the mountain, especially by the small company who’d traveled with him to retake Erebor, even more so by the smaller band who’d traveled to Mordor after him. Further still by her brother, who held the hobbit as his most beloved treasure in all the world.

She realized that Bilbo was moving towards her, a small pouch in his hand. “Legolas had mentioned you might like these: he’s flying about the main hall at the moment, helping where he can with his height, or he’d have delivered them himself.” Puzzled, Dis opened the pouch and was instantly met with the most beautiful scent. Potpourri, with dried flowers and herbs that reminded her of her childhood. Of the fields beside the mountain where, once, dwarves and elves had met in harmony.

It was a peace offering, one Legolas hadn’t even needed to gift her, but had done so all the same. Dis felt her eyes burn and she blinked the tears away rapidly. “He’s very fond of Kili, you know,” Bilbo said, pitching his voice so low that only she could hear. “He saved Kili’s life, in Gondor, when it was first invaded.”

Oh, she’d heard the story already. “You think him a good match for my son?” she asked.

Bilbo smiled. “I think he’s the only match for Kili. I don’t think your son could have found someone more loyal and kind in all of Middle-Earth.”

Dis hummed, then took a deep breath. The scent from the pouch would go in her room, tucked somewhere safe where it could liven up the room. “He could’ve, but he would’ve made his uncle rather upset, taking his hobbit from him.”

Bilbo flushed to the tips of his ears, and Dis grinned. “And though you haven’t asked it, yes, Bilbo Baggins, you have my blessing to be with my brother. I know you’ve already wed and it truly doesn’t matter-“

“It does,” Bilbo insisted, his own eyes glassy now. “It most certainly does. I just…didn’t know how to ask. Just because you seemed to like me didn’t mean you approved of us.”

She set the pouch down in her lap and took both of his hands with hers. “We are kin now, you and I,” she said softly. “It’s been a long time since the line of Durin was so wealthy with family, and now I have more to call kin than ever before. Better yet, I have someone like you to call kin, and that is a valued treasure indeed.” In truth, she’d never met a hobbit before Bilbo Baggins, and after having heard of him and his deeds, her mind had given her a multitude of images as she’d traveled to Erebor, of what he’d look like, of how he’d present himself, of how mighty a being this had to be, to have taken the Ring of Power to Mordor and captured the heart of her brother.

Seeing this smaller being, not a speck of hair on his face, had left her surprised enough to linger in the doorway for a bit. Then he’d smiled and introduced himself, and in his eyes, she’d seen the strength and pure goodness that had not only defeated the Lord Sauron himself, but had left her brother willing to travel across Middle-Earth to bring the hobbit back to Erebor. To bring him home.

Yes, she was honored indeed to count Bilbo Baggins as part of her kin.

“It’s a musty smell about it, all right; probably from the fabrics being kept in the caverns for near a hundred years. It’ll air out, lass, have no worries.”

Bilbo and Dis shared a look. As if Dernwyn needed another reason to worry. “If you put it out in the sunshine, out on the balcony, you’ll find the breeze will take the scent away,” Dis encouraged, before Dernwyn could so much as frown. Dori quickly nodded and set about helping Dernwyn move the metal rack the dress hung from out onto the sunny balcony. Bilbo and Dis hurried to open the large door, and soon the dress was gently lifting in the breeze. Satisfied that it wouldn’t go anywhere, Dis shut the door enough to keep the breeze from stirring the room.

“Now what?” Dernwyn asked, after a long moment of silence had fallen.

“Now you do what you want,” Dis said. “There’s a celebration later with those who adore you, and a night of good sleep to follow. But before that, the afternoon is to be yours. You may take a bath in the hot springs, wind your hair around your fingers, or settle down to stare at the ceiling.”

Dernwyn chuckled at her options. “I’m feeling the urge to wander, actually,” she admitted. “I feel that if I stay here in this room, I’ll be here forever.”

“Then you should walk,” Bilbo said. “If you want company, come find one of us. We’ll be happy to wander with you.” He paused, and his face went far too innocent. “If you wander to the kitchens, I’m certain Bombur’s got plenty more cake-“

“Oh, out with you!”

Dis was certain all of Erebor could hear her laughter ringing down the halls.

The hall was empty, save for one table that was filled with as many chairs as it could hold. In those chairs sat a family who was bound in blood and in journey. Their celebration was sung by all, and smiles adorned everyone’s faces.

In sum, they were loud, and most of Erebor could hear their cheers for the betrothed couple.

Another toast was raised to Dernwyn and Fili, and a chorus of joy went up again. Bilbo didn’t even bother lifting his glass again: he just kept drinking. It was an unnecessary stretch of the arm, at this point. Someone was bound to toast again, and he’d just wind up-

“To Fili and Dernwyn!” Nori shouted, and glasses were raised again. Bilbo kept to his drink. From beside him, Thorin snorted in amusement.

“Are you done toasting?”

Bilbo drained his tankard and set it aside. “It stopped being a reasonable point after everyone started using the toast as a way to just drink.” Or try to outdrink each other. Fili was still trying to outdrink Dwalin, and it just wasn’t going to happen.

Thorin’s low rumble of laughter put a grin on Bilbo’s face. It would always be one of his favorite sounds. Even now, when it was no longer a hard sought-after prize, but a gift freely given, Bilbo would always treasure it.

“The main hall looks beautiful,” Ori said, once everyone had tired of drinking. “You’ll love it tomorrow.”

Bilbo had to admit, the hall looked spectacular. Flowers and gold trim and jewels everywhere, as far as the eye could see, and if it stayed sunny as it had the past week, the room would simply sparkle.

“Aye, and I’ll be walkin’ the prettiest maiden to the front of it,” Bofur said with a cheery smile. Dernwyn grinned. It was a good grin, not the wild one she’d been wearing for the past few weeks as the stress of the wedding caught up to her. No, this was a true Dernwyn smile, and it was good to see. Not that Bilbo thought it was the end of the stress. Oh, she’d stress again tomorrow, but here, tonight, Bilbo had never been more grateful to the company that surrounded him. They’d rallied together and offered Dernwyn a reprieve, one she’d sorely needed.

Fili, too, had needed a break. Gone was the moping prince of the day before, bewailing the fact that his bride to be could be a bride to flee. He nudged her with his shoulder, and the two shared a bright smile. That was the couple Bilbo remembered.

Stress, he thought, didn’t belong in such a joyous occasion. And the two who were being celebrated certainly didn’t deserve to be wrapped up in it.

The muffled rolling of a drum made them all pause. “Was that thunder?” Kili asked.

“Rain,” Legolas confirmed. “I can smell it now and hear it upon the stone. It is merely a short storm; I do not see it dampening your day tomorrow,” he assured Dernwyn and Fili.

Still, if tomorrow did prove to be filled with rain, they could light candles enough in the main hall and keep everyone illuminated. Dernwyn’s dress would sparkle in the flames while the rain outside-

Bilbo sat up straight, eyes wide. “What’s the matter, Uncle?” Fili asked.

“The dress,” he breathed, looking at Dernwyn. She stared, not comprehending for a moment, and then her eyes were as wide as his.

“The dress!”

Dori flew out of his chair before Bilbo’s feet even hit the ground, but Dis managed to get ahead of even him. The company followed in bewildered pursuit as the four raced for Dernwyn’s quarters.

Even before Dis threw the door open, Bilbo could hear the storm all the more clearly now. The dining hall was down lower to the earth, close to the kitchens that had food delivered regularly. But the quarters for living, especially those with ties to the royal family, sat higher in the mountain. The storm sounded loud and vicious, and the balcony door was still shut. Without hesitating Dis and Bilbo caught the door and hauled it open.

The balcony door flew open under the gust of the storm, and if Dori hadn’t been there to help catch it, it would have flung them all aside. Dernwyn raced through the door and staggered out into the storm. “Dernwyn!” Fili called from the door to the room as the other dwarves caught up.

It was going to take two to move that huge rack they’d hung the dress on. Bilbo shoved himself out into the balcony, leaving Dis and Dori to meddle with the door. The shouts behind him disappeared as soon as he was swept into the fury of the storm. He was drenched within moments, and it was so dark that Bilbo wondered if he’d even find the rack and Dernwyn. He reached out with his hands and fumbled to find something.

There. Cold, wet metal touched his hand, and he wrapped his fingers tightly around it. His hand slid further along the rack to the farthest edge, forcing his feet to move along the slippery wet stone. Dernwyn, where was Dernwyn?

Strong hands wrapped around him and pulled. His grip on the rack dragged it in with him, and after a few harsh tugs, he was back inside, the rack still within his grasp. He blinked and watched Dernwyn appear from the darkness, Dwalin and Fili buffeting her, and Dis soundly shut the balcony door. The howling storm dimmed, muted by the heavy wood. For a long moment, no one said a thing, and Bilbo realized his breaths were coming in harsh pants. Well, he’d nearly flown off the balcony: he deserved to breathe as much as he wanted to. He leaned back against Thorin, who was still holding him, and let out a sigh.

As if he’d spoken his thoughts aloud, everyone suddenly found their voices.

“What in Mahal’s name-“

“You could’ve drowned-“

“A fierce gale such as that could’ve killed you both-“

“Are you hurt?” Thorin asked, voice softer than the others. Somehow, it still managed to quiet the rest down. Bilbo felt his husband’s hands on his waist, strong and sturdy as a stone, and it let Bilbo breathe more evenly.

“Soaked through, but I’m all right. Didn’t go over.”

Thorin’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, but his face remained calm. “Dernwyn?” he asked next.

Dernwyn was pulling in ragged breaths from the other side of the rack, but it was Fili who looked to be in worse wear beside her. “I’m fine,” she said, and she had to repeat it twice before Dwalin and Fili let go. Even then, Fili remained beside her, watching her with worried eyes. Dernwyn sighed. “I could use a towel, though. Bilbo could, too.”

“Oh lass.”

Dori’s mournful tone made even Fili pause as he hurried to the wash room. Bilbo turned back to the rack and felt his breath catch.

The dress.

The gems still sparkled, despite being wet. That was about the only part of the dress that was as it should’ve been. The lacework sagged with rain, and the fabric was all but see through, it was so soaked. Bilbo bit his lip and finally dared to look at Dernwyn.

Her face held no worry or fear, but her eyes were as stormy as the outside. “It will dry,” she said, her voice firm, but it wavered at the edges. Everyone enthusiastically agreed that it would dry, it’d be fine, but Bofur was watching her with concerned eyes, and Fili was back at her side again. Bilbo clutched at Thorin’s hands around his waist and felt his husband weave his fingers through his.

There was no time to make a new dress. It would be this or no dress at all.

Dis sprang into action. “Towards the fire, and we’ll build it high,” she said firmly. Legolas was already there with Kili, stoking the fire brighter and brighter still. Dwalin and Nori pulled the rack towards the flames, and soon the dress was close enough to dry, but not close enough to burn.

Bilbo merely hoped it would be enough.

But Dernwyn was nodding and thanking Dwalin and Nori, and Bilbo crossed his fingers that she would be all right.

Dernwyn was not ‘all right’. It was another word that didn’t fit, just as much as ‘calm’ and ‘serene’ wouldn’t fit at the moment. Or hadn’t, really, for the past several weeks. She was a jittery body that caged nerves and fear, and there was nothing she could do to dispel it.

“We’ll help you step in, no worries,” Dori told her. Her dress was held between his hands and Dis’s, her shoes in front of the dress. Her hair was already done, woven with golden links and strands and held with a jeweled clasp. She had makeup on – makeup, of all things, powder and rouge and kohl that she couldn’t believe she was wearing – and all she wore above her undergarments was her robe. Not that she had shame in anyone seeing her in her undergarments, but somehow, here, standing in the room about to step into her wedding dress, she felt as naked and transparent as one could be.

She undid the robe and tossed it aside as confidently as she could. She was a Shieldmaiden who had torn asunder the great Witchking himself. She could handle stepping into a dress. With a determined gaze she put her first foot into the dress and felt the cool stone meet her bare feet. The dress was soft and still a little damp, but nowhere near as bad as it had been last night. She could handle it. It would all be fine. She put her second foot in, not even needing a hand to balance her.

The dress clung to her leg for just a moment, and without thinking she kicked slightly to remove it. Her balance shifted, and her heel came down on the fabric. She hadn’t stepped on more than an inch of the fabric. But it was enough.

The fabric tore, a soft but steady sound that sounded more damning than the shriek of an orc. Everyone froze.

Dernwyn swallowed. “Can you…see it?” she asked hesitantly. Dis’s face told her everything she needed to know.

She resisted the urge to clutch at the dress in her fists, knowing she’d only tear more of it. This was why she’d been hesitant about the finery. She wasn’t…she wasn’t made for finery such as this. She was made for steel and hard wool and things that wouldn’t give. This lace was nothing she needed or wanted. It had been beautiful, truly. But it wasn’t for her. She didn’t fit in it.

And if she didn’t fit in it, how would she fit in here, in Erebor? How would she fit with Fili?

“I can sew it,” Dis said after a moment. Her hand on Dernwyn’s foot was a kind, grounding measure that left her breathing a bit easier. “It’s a quick stitch. Nothing fancy, mind, but something solid. Something that will hold truer than the other fanciful things here.”

Dernwyn took a deep breath in and was grateful, again, for the sureness that Dis had brought with her. As much as she’d feared Dis’s appearance, she was ever thankful that the dwarf had come to Erebor.

Dori was there with the sewing supplies, helping with his usual calm demeanor. “Shouldn’t surprise me,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. That, thankfully, was still bright and sunny outside, and not as troubling as her dress. “The fabric’s old and thin. Beautiful fabric, mind, and the highest caliber, but still old. I’m surprised it survived the rain as it did-“

The fabric beneath Dis’s sewing hand tore, and it caught one of the lace stitches. A large section fell down the front, and everyone stared.

And, to make matters worse, the door opened. “You’re all making Fili frantic, what’s taking so…”

Bilbo and Kili stopped dead in the doorway. She was sure they had to make quite the scene: Dis kneeling in front of her, parts of the dress in her hands; Dori off to the side, holding the dress up with one hand while handling the sewing materials with the other; and Dernwyn, her hands holding the dress up around her to cover herself. Everyone stared at each other.

Kili blinked. “What happened?” he asked.

To her utter humiliation, Dernwyn found her eyes filling with tears. It was all wrong. The dress, the makeup, the jewels and the lace-

-Watching Thengel die in her arms, his bloodied lips whispering his last words to her, dying in front of her, because of her, leaving her an utter failure, and if she couldn’t save her father king, how was she supposed to save her husband king, the man she loved-

-and she wasn’t supposed to be here. This was all wrong, she was wrong, and she didn’t belong. She would only get him hurt, get him killed. Her beloved Fili, her king, her heart.

She hadn’t realized she’d sat down until she realized Dori and Kili were helping hold her up to keep her from trampling all over the dress. Dis was whispering endearments to her, her name and ‘daughter mine’, a title Dernwyn didn’t deserve.

And Bilbo was in front of her, cupping her face in her hands and gently wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with you or this or, or whatever’s filling your head with such terrible thoughts.”

“It’s ruined,” she choked. “I ruined it. All of it.”

“You’ve done nothing of the sort,” Dis said. “Nothing’s ruined. We’ll have you up in running order shortly enough. Bilbo, how well are you at stitching? Two hands may be able to take up the front in a fashion.”

“I can stitch,” he assured her, then leaned forward to press a kiss to Dernwyn’s forehead. “We’ll be all right. Just breathe.”

She could do that. Just breathe. She stood straighter but kept her grip on Kili. Dori immediately began hurrying about for more things, shears and needles, and they were all so determined for her. They were doing all of this just for her, and it left her warmed inside.

Better yet, it seemed to be working. They were snipping pieces here and there to even it out, then quickly stitching the fabric under the hem. The final line would come just below her knees in an oval arch to swoop back to the tremendous flow of lace and jewels behind her. It was almost pretty, pretty enough to leave a smile on her face.

One of the jewels fell, the thread it was attached to hanging and pulling on the fabric. She watched in silence as the dress tore from the hips down. Half of it was still clinging, but the fabric had had enough from the rain. It was simply too old, too frayed, too thin. There was nothing left to work with, and Dernwyn watched as the realization hit Dis and Bilbo at the same time. They stared at the fabric, then slowly turned up to her.

Relief, she was feeling relief. Truly. “I’ll just wear something else,” she said, and her voice barely shook. “I have a blue velvet dress that would do. Wouldn’t it?” she asked suddenly, and she sounded young even to her own ears.

“Dernwyn, he’d marry you if you were covered in orc blood and troll snot,” Kili said reassuringly. Or what he hoped was probably reassuring. “The first time he saw you, when he fell in love with you, you were wearing a plain brown dress with your hair as wild and free as could be, and he loved you then.”

That…did help. Mostly. She swallowed past her other fears and took Kili’s arm in hers. Her hands let the ruined dress hit the floor, and Kili immediately turned away, his cheeks bright red. Dernwyn rolled her eyes as she stepped out of the dress. “You would think I raised a halfway modest dwarf,” Dis said while she tugged the dress away. “Dori, can you find the dress Dernwyn mentioned?”

A knock at the door just brought all the nerves back. Not that she was concerned with someone seeing her in a state of undress – she’d fought and dressed among the Rohirrim, she wasn’t exactly shy anymore – but she realized that the whole reason Bilbo and Kili had come up to find her was because she was late. Leaving Fili alone in the main hall while she cried over fabric.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t anyone she’d expected to see. Bright eyes met hers with a wide smile, and Dernwyn was perilously close to weeping for the second time in a handful of minutes.

“Morwen,” she whispered, and Morwen smiled even more broadly.

“Morwen!” Bilbo exclaimed and hurried to embrace her. Morwen laughed and wrapped her arms around him, and they exchanged smiles. Dernwyn suddenly wondered how Morwen would greet her, now that it had been months, nearly a year, since they’d last seen each other, and their last parting had been steeped in so much grief because of Thengel-

Morwen moved to her and immediately embraced her tightly. “Oh, my dear, sweet Dernwyn,” she whispered. “You look lovely.”

Dernwyn felt her shoulders drop in relief. “How are you here?” she asked. “You rule Rohan now.”

“A Queen may visit other kingdoms,” Morwen said, her smile still bright. “I wouldn’t have missed this day for all the world. Now, where’s your dress? Let me help you into it.”

“I’m afraid that’s a bit impossible,” Dis said. She gave Morwen a nod. “I am Dis, Thorin Oakenshield’s sister, mother to Fili and Kili.”

“Then long will your name ring in our halls as a friend of Rohan,” Morwen said. “I am Morwen, ruling Queen of Rohan. Your brother and sons are well beloved by my people and my own family.” She paused. “Did you say ‘impossible’?”

All eyes turned to the heap of fabric in the corner. Morwen’s mouth formed a sympathetic ‘o’. “Dori, have you found the blue dress?” Bilbo asked.

Before Dori could answer, however, Morwen shook her head and held up a hand. “I had not intended my gift to be used so soon, but I am glad, then, that I brought it.” She stepped out into the hall, where two Rohirrim guards waited. They brought in a trunk, a large, wooden trunk, carved with the horse runes of the Rohirrim. Both of the guards bowed to her with smiles before departing to the hallway again.

Dernwyn gazed at the trunk. Morwen gestured to it, and slowly she made her way over to the chest. “It was your mother’s,” Morwen said, even as Dernwyn opened the trunk and stared. “I wanted you to have it. Perhaps we can make use of it today.”

White, thick fabric met her vision first. The decorated belt of blue and gold wrapped around the wide neck line as well as around the waist, and when she lifted it out, the fabric held firmly in her grasp. The train trailed out in a modest fashion, and there were no jewels anywhere.

Yet it was clear that this dress was befitting of someone treasured, someone valued. Someone loved.

“Now that is a fine dress indeed,” Dori said, and the rumbling murmur behind Dernwyn spoke of agreement. “Adjustments will be swift and easy, if there need be any.”

Getting into it was easy. Helping hands made the buttons in the back easy. The makeup on her face no longer matched her simpler gown, and she wiped it away almost viciously. Her hair she left as it was, content to be a mix of Rohirrim garb and Dwarven jewels.

Then it was just her gazing into the mirror, even as Dis and Bilbo fussed about at the hem beneath her. She looked like herself again. She looked like a Rohirrim.

Morwen gazed at her for a long moment before speaking. “They would be very proud of you,” she said, and Dernwyn didn’t have to ask who Morwen spoke of. She knew. “So would Thengel.”

That brought all of her building confidence crashing to the ground. Morwen seemed to see it in her face, for her own brow furrowed. “Dernwyn? What’s the matter?”

She intended to brush it off. She intended to keep it to herself. But her mouth and her heart had apparently spoken to each other when she hadn’t noticed, for both of them acted without her permission now.

“I killed him.”

The room went silent, save for Morwen’s footsteps that were swift and sure against the stone. “You did no so thing,” Morwen said firmly.

“I killed him,” Dernwyn said helplessly. “He died in, in my arms, he died for me because I couldn’t…Morwen, I couldn’t move, I was trapped, and he took the blow meant for me, and if I can’t protect him, how am I supposed to protect Fili? How am I supposed to keep him alive?”

Morwen took her by the shoulders, and Dernwyn realized she was hiccupping softly, soft weeping that still felt as if it would tear her apart inside. Her worst fears spoken out loud, her most terrible truth that she had never wanted to present to anyone, let alone Morwen, the woman she had looked to as a mother for so long. And Morwen…

Morwen was looking at her with the most devastated expression Dernwyn had ever seen on her face, even worse than when they had laid Thengel to rest with his forefathers. “This is what you truly think?” Morwen asked, her voice hushed. “You think that you killed Thengel?”

“If I hadn’t insisted on going, if I’d just stayed with him-“

“Thengel died with the greatest honor a man can ever die with, or for,” Morwen said, her eyes narrowing. “He died for his family. If Thengel had come home and you had not, he never would have forgiven himself. You did not kill him, Dernwyn. You did more than any other warrior would have: you held him in his passing moments, you carried his last words to me. I’m not angry with you: I am grateful. For you were there with him when I could not be.”

Morwen was crying now too, tears cascading down her cheeks, and Dernwyn felt all the more wretched for tearing at the healing scab of grief. “Morwen, I’m sorry-“

“As you should be,” Morwen said fiercely. “How dare you insult my Dernwyn? How dare you insinuate that she is nothing less than brave and admirable?” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Dernwyn’s forehead, her cheeks brushing tears against Dernwyn’s skin. “You owe me no apologies. You never have.”

Dernwyn nodded and brushed at her cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, her heart felt lighter and freer. She should’ve spoken to Morwen sooner, but the sharp edge of grief had been double-edged, and she had neither wanted to hurt someone or herself with its blade. If anyone had deserved to blame her for Thengel’s death, it would have been Morwen.

And Morwen didn’t.

Dis came forward with a handkerchief, gently dabbing at Dernwyn’s cheeks. Dernwyn sniffled but stayed in one place to let her.

“I had my hesitations when I was told that my son had asked for the hand of a woman of Rohan.”

Dernwyn stilled. Dis continued drying her tears away as she spoke. “I was told of your reputation, of your valor, but knew nothing of your heart. I knew you would be fierce and a bold warrior, for a Shieldmaiden is nothing less.”

She finally smiled at Dernwyn, and it felt so much like the smile Morwen would give her that Dernwyn fought not to weep again. It felt like the smile her mother used to give her, so long ago.

“Then I met you. And I know now that you are a perfect match for Fili. I am glad to call you kin.” Dis took a breath. “Know that war may come, that Fili may go out into the fields and never come back. Even if you rode beside him, it could still not be enough to save him.

“But know, too, that Fili feels these same fears. He could lose you to war, to plague, to childbirth, to a simple misplaced step on a walkway. You will fear for each other and cling to one another with every day that you share.”

“That’s marriage, then?” Dernwyn asked.

Dis chuckled. “No, daughter mine. That’s love.”

It was easy to put shoes on after that. Dernwyn felt so light after the weeks of stressing that she wondered if she’d float down the aisle. Final touches of makeup were applied to hide the red eyes and tearstained cheeks, but nothing like it had been before. Bilbo had her flowers in hand, and Dernwyn kissed the top of his head because she could. He went pink but grinned up at her all the same.

“I’ll run ahead and make certain everything’s ready,” Kili said. He hesitated at the door, and Dernwyn could just see the glint in his eyes. Whatever he was about to say…

“Can I tell Fili I saw you in your undergarments first? Please?”

…was going to earn him the ire of his mother and make Dernwyn wish she had a blade in hand. Even if it did make her laugh.

“She’s changed her mind.”

“Oh for Mahal’s sake, Fili, stop,” Thorin said, and no, he was not begging. He was simply asking his nephew nicely to desist in being so glum.

And yes, if it would make Fili stop mumbling, he would beg. Mahal, where was his husband when he needed him?

As if by Thorin’s willing, Bilbo appeared at his side. “Tell me she’s going to come down the aisle,” he pleaded quietly.

Bilbo chuckled. “She is. We just had…minor difficulties with the dress. And guilt regarding Thengel’s death. Beyond that, we’re all fine.”

Thorin winced. “Is she all right?”

“She will be,” Bilbo said. “Perhaps not completely so, right now, but she will be.”

Kili slid into place beside Bilbo. “They’re ready. She looks marvelous, Fee.” Before Fili could reply, he added cheekily, “And I saw her in her undergarments before you did.”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you we had dress problems,” Bilbo said apologetically as Fili glared at his brother. “To be honest, I wasn’t even certain Kili saw anything, he blushed and turned away so quickly.”

Kili offered a display of that blush for his brother, who finally gave a quick grin. “She’s not for me, is she?” Kili finally said, shrugging. “I’ve already got my someone. Just waiting on you to get me a sister, Fee.”

Sometimes, Thorin was so grateful that his husband was a great tactician that he nearly didn’t have words. Nearly. “Have I mentioned how much I love you, beloved?” he murmured. Bilbo’s grin was so broad and bright that it made Thorin want to kiss it.

The trumpets sounded, and Thorin looked up. Fili froze and managed to keep looking ahead. Dernwyn moved through the crowd in her simple, beautiful dress, smiling all the while with her arm in Bofur’s. Murmurs of awe and wonder came from every guest in the hall. When she was close enough, Thorin finally took pity on his nephew. “Your brother is right in one regard,” he said. “She does look marvelous.”

Fili slowly turned around, and Thorin knew the instant he saw Dernwyn. His mouth hung open slightly, and his eyes shone in the light. He smiled, a half smile as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Did I look like that?” Thorin asked Bilbo quietly. “When you came up the hill?”

Bilbo shrugged. “I don’t remember. I was too busy staring at you on a whole.”

Dwalin muttered something off to the side about “lovesick fools” but Thorin paid him no heed. Bilbo placed a quick kiss to his cheek before stepping aside to leave Thorin by the altar. As Bilbo couldn’t marry them, he couldn’t stay with Thorin, but he could stand beside Dwalin and deliver a not-so-kind elbow to the dwarf’s side for his comment.

Bofur brought Dernwyn all the way to the front. When he pressed her hand into Fili’s, Thorin realized that the dwarf had four braids in his hair, not just three, and all four had flowers of some kind in them. His usual hat was gone, and he gave Thorin a sharp nod and a bright grin before stepping aside. Fili and Dernwyn made the last few steps together, and then they stood before the altar and Thorin.

It was a truly simple service, for all of its finery and splendor. Thorin presented the two with the vows and the sanctity of their actions. Truly, he was glad his part was short: it was difficult to remember his words when watching his son wed the woman of his heart.

Then it was their turn. Dernwyn took a deep breath.

“I doubted being here, today.”

Thorin froze. But Bilbo and Kili and his sister seemed unconcerned, watching Dernwyn with smiles, so Thorin allowed himself to breathe.

It was more than he could say for Fili, who looked to be attempting to breathe. Dernwyn reached for his hand and clasped it between hers. “Not because of anything you did, but because…because of me. Myself and my failures to protect my father king. Because if I couldn’t protect him, how was I supposed to protect you?”

“Dernwyn, no,” Fili protested, and Dernwyn placed a hand to his lips. Fili finally settled back.

“I’ve doubted my ability to protect the ones I love. I doubted my future because of my past but the one thing I haven’t doubted is you. The only think I haven’t doubted is you.” She smiled then, and it was the same determined grin Thorin remembered from the battlefield. This was Dernwyn, Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

She leaned forward towards Fili, still smiling. “I have no doubts, no fears. The only thing I could ever fear now is a future without you. Because I won’t live a life without you in it. I refuse.”

Fili swallowed hard, Dernwyn’s hands still in his own. “Your turn,” Kili said, and the whole room rumbled with laughter. Dernwyn laughed, a bright and beautiful thing, and Fili even cracked a grin. It was enough for Fili to speak.

“This is awful, because I had all these words that I was going to say but they’re gone.” He huffed a laugh. “As soon as I saw you they just…just all flew out of my head. I have no thoughts left, I have nothing. I feel like Kili.”

Dernwyn laughed again, and the cheerfulness in the hall only grew. Kili rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless.

Fili sobered after a moment. “I don’t know how you could doubt yourself. Because if there’s one thing I’ve never doubted, it’s you. You’re one of the few sure things in my life, and I won’t let that go. Won’t let you go. In the midst of the darkness and the fear, the blood and the pain, you were there. And it terrifies me, now, to think of you in that place, to think of you in harm’s way. Because I can’t lose you.”

Dernwyn’s own smile was long gone, her mouth parted in surprise. Thorin glanced at Bilbo and found his husband offering Dernwyn a knowing smile. Dis, too, looked very pleased with Fili’s words. Whatever it was that Bilbo and Dis had been waiting for, it left Dernwyn suddenly smiling so brightly that no gem could have dared to shine any brighter.

It flew by, after that. Fili placed a bead in Dernwyn’s hair and a ring on her finger, then Dernwyn did the same. Fili’s vows left Dernwyn in tears, and she laughed when he pulled forth a small handkerchief that Thorin didn’t remember ever having seen before. It was small and not quite evenly stitched and a thick, coarse fabric. When Fili wiped her eyes with it, though, Dernwyn looked as if she’d weep more and laugh all at the same time.

Final words were exchanged, and then they were kissing, their first kiss as husband and wife. The hall all but exploded, cheers and shouts echoing in the room. Dwarves and men alike jumped from their seats as Fili and Dernwyn parted to stand before them with broad smiles.

Thorin felt a soft nudge to his side. Bilbo raised an eyebrow, waiting, and with a smile Thorin called out in his loudest voice, “Prince Fili and Princess Dernwyn of Erebor: long may their hands be held together!”

The chorused cheers were nearly deafening. Thorin felt Bilbo’s hand slide into his and smiled.

It was during the reception that certain things fell down. Such as the drapes, which apparently had had a few too many things – and dwarves – hanging from them, but that was easily remedied. Or would be, after the celebrations died down.

Certain dwarves also fell down from drink, and if Bilbo’s status as Thorin’s husband and Ring-bearer hadn’t been enough to idolize him for, his ability to outdrink Dwalin had the dwarves in awe. Ori diligently recorded the event with a twinkle in his eye.

And when Ori’s quill and paper fell, well, how was a dwarf supposed to hang onto things when his heart’s desire came to him and kissed him before murmuring about a wedding of their own?

Perhaps the most significant thing that fell during the reception was the illusion Kili and Legolas had been maintaining. During the good-natured ribbing between the brothers, Fili boasted that he was a husband before Kili. Kili, in turn, proudly told him that Kili had been a husband for months already.

The main table got very quiet. Not that the rest of the hall had noticed. Kili immediately tried to disappear, and Legolas suddenly became very interested in his ale.

Under Dis’s…persuasion, the story tumbled out. Elven marriages were between the consenting adults, and while the celebration afterwards would include others, the act of being wed needed only those being married. It seemed that during a hunt through Mirkwood, they had come across one of Legolas’s favorite places, and they had pledged hands and hearts.

By Elven standards, then, they were married.

Dis was outraged that her son had gotten married and hadn’t told her. Dernwyn and Fili blinked in surprise. Thorin covered his face with his hands. Bilbo offered meek congratulations before reminding Dis that they could be married again by Dwarven practices, if she so desired.

It was truly a good thing that Dis liked Legolas and Kili, for she would have glared at them until they set on fire otherwise. Her ire was quelled largely in part by Legolas, who offered a great many ideas on how to prepare their wedding. Kili muttered and hid his head in his hands.

So it was that no one noticed when the bride and groom quietly stood and left the hall, their hands together. No one except Bilbo, who watched them go with a small smile. The guests had been greeted, the meal eaten. It was time for them to leave everyone else behind.

When he turned to glance across the table, Morwen met his eyes with a smile. She, too, had watched them go. He wondered how she felt, watching the woman she had raised leave to start her own life. He wondered if she thought of Thengel.

It made him reach for Thorin’s hand to take in his own. And when Thorin turned with questioning eyes, Bilbo merely shook his head and pressed his forehead to his husband’s. “I love you,” he said, and he was grateful when he didn’t choke on the words.

“And I you,” Thorin murmured.

Down the hallway, in the new quarters that would be theirs and theirs alone, Fili and Dernwyn murmured the same words to each other as they shared sweet, newlywed kisses.