Chapter Text
It was a restful slumber that Ori found himself awakening from, rubbing his eyes and sleepily surveying the room. He blinked for a moment, not recognising the room as his own, before the events of the night before had come back to him and a rush of colour ran to his face.
Looking down at himself, he observed that at some point during the night he had been stripped of his clothing, a surprised sort of whimper escaping from his throat as he noted the oversized shirt he had been dressed in definitely did not belong to him. Dwalin had put him in the warrior's casual clothes, an act of possession in Dwarvish culture. Had he surely been so serious of his intentions to court Ori?
Worrying his lip softly, the little scribe climbed out of the large plush bed and set his feet onto the stone floor. He could feel the chill of the morning on his feet as they made contact with the ground, but he was too distracted to really take notice. His brown eyes scanned the room in search of his love, but uncovered no-one. With a pout, he hoisted himself up and went to the door, cracking it open to look around the corridor. Where was Dwalin? Had the other fled from him after concluding he had made a mistake?
Ori tried not to think about that situation. After you had begun courting, if your intended responded, as Ori had, then you had no choice but to bind your union with marriage. Nervous, the auburn haired boy quickly shut the door and moved towards his prize, the slightly battered red roses from last night had found home in a simple crystal vase, obviously put there by Dwalin sometime after he had fallen asleep.
Clambering back onto the bed, Ori thought about the other as he sank into the fluffy furniture. His gaze became unfocused, staring idly at the ceiling as he fantisised about a married life with his newly intended. Would they be happy together? Would Dwalin want children, in their future? Ori knew himself that he wanted little dwarflings to call his own, but would a hardened soldier..?
The young male's breath hitched a the door handle was abruptly turned, scrambling to cover his modesty as the chamber's entrance swung open to reveal it's owner.
Dwalin's hungry eyes roamed over the silky pale skin that was bared before him, lust heavy in his looks. Flushing once more, Ori pulled the covers around him to hide himself, squeaking out, "M-mister Dwalin!"
Attempting a rare smile, that pulled at unused muscles on his aged features, Dwalin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "You have no need to be afraid, love, I will not touch you til you are ready."
Under that penetrating stare, Ori felt so very very young, fiddling with the woven threads of blanket upon him in a display of nerves. Dwalin could be so gentle, and though he had offered his body to Dwalin in weeks prior, Ori was unsure of if he was ready for that advancement in their relations. He had yet to know the pleasures of flesh upon him, and he had always rather hoped he would remain unspoiled until his wedding night.
Which may be soon. His mind supplied, watching silently as the tall dwarf across from him kicked off his shoes and strode over, climbing into bed with him.
"Rest, little one," Dwalin's low voice rumbled, a steady thrum coursing throughout the small scholar. "You had a trying day yesterday, and need to relax your mind."
Unbidden to him, Ori could feel his eyes becoming heavier as Dwalin's heat penetrated him even through the covers, warming his body and making him drowsy.
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Dwalin looked upon his flower's sleeping form, stroking the boy's hip as he did so. As he had expected Ori looked entirely too good in his clothing, his frail form swamped by the giant shirt. It brought a grin to his face, though he would never admit it.
Sighing, planting one last kiss on Ori's forehead, he got up from the bed once more. He had spent the morning melting down his earnings from the retaking off Erebor, and by now the gold should be ready to craft into two rings of finery for them both. He would check on them, before seeking audience with the king as was custom when one wished to wed.
Grumbling, he tried not to picture Thorin's smirk as he finally declared he would wed his beloved. The king knew how long he had fantasised over his current bedmate, and would not cease to lord it over him. And so, pulling himself reluctantly from the comfort of Ori, he climbed out of bed and set his plans into motion.
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He rings looked beautiful, that was all Dwalin could ring as he gazed upon them. He had melted down his gold and silver coin, and fused them into an intricate pattern. But it was Dori of all dwarves who had carved a design into the rings for him, apparently Ori wasn't the only Ri brother with artistic flair. Turning the new rings around in his hand, he gazed upon the runes of his and Ori's names, carved into the metal for all to see. Stones of mithril, gifted to him by Thorin himself had been inset into the smaller one, the pure white stone rightly reflecting the innocence and strength of his lover.
His own ring sparkled with rubies, a symbol of blood, shed as a warrior, but also of love, and a bond stronger than any battle. Resting them in their box, Dwalin snapped the lid shut and headed for the throne room. Only a couple more errands until he could return to Ori's side.
"Dwalin." Thorin acknowledged as the other dwarf stepped into the throne room. It was a public gathering where all dwarf folk came to speak with Thorin on plans and problems they had with their life, to see if Thorin had any solutions. One of the perks of being king, Dwalin had teased him mercilessly when he had begun the public counselling and now he was hear and about to announce to the entire community his plans.
"My king." He called, bowing slightly. All the common dwarf looked at him, still intimidated by his gruff nature. Many whispers echoed around the hall, until Thorin raised his hand to silence them. The tension was thick in the air until Dwalin next spoke. "I have come to you to announce my intention to wed."
Gasps bounced of the cold stone walls, the hushed voices coming back full force as people tried to figure out who would be brave enough to try and tame the beast Dwalin. He grit his teeth and tried to ignore the townsfolk, his hand travelling to where Grasper usually rested.
Thorin smirked, looking at his old friend. "And whom is your intended?"
Smug bastard. Dwalin thought, glaring at the king who knew full well who it was.
Holding his head up high, he responded anyway. "The scribe, Ori of the brothers Ri."
Dwalin pretended he could not hear the laughter that many let escape them, his mouth set in a grim line as he waited for Thorin to continue.
"Are there any among you who contest this union?" Thorin asked, as was per the norm for marriage outside of royalty.
Again, all activity ceased as a voice spoke up. "I do!"
Every gaze in the room turned as he broken form of Norlin hobbled into the hall, but it was only Dwalin's eyes that darkened with intense hatred. Defiantly, the almost unrecognisable blacksmith's mouth formed a twisted smile. "The boy Ori is a whore, and this man is a defiler."
Dwalin could no longer hold his anger as he roared. "And you are filth and a liar! I should have finished you when I had the chance."
Making quick work of the gap between them, Dwalin hoisted the other's body like a ragdoll and slammed him to the wall, ignoring the crack of ribs as he growled. "You dare to accuse me of touching Ori's innocence when it was you and not me who attacked him?! You tried to steal his essence, and I spared you once because of his innocent soul, but Mahal knows I will not be so patient now!"
Grabbing the small neck within his thick hands, Dwalin was close to choking the life out of him when a soft brush against his arm stopped him. There, looking to him with big pleading was the very dwarf whose honour he was trying to protect.
"Please, love.." Ori spoke, his voice but a whisper. "Don't let another person's blood be on your hands."
With a defeated sigh he released the snake once more, knowing Ori would be disappointed if he let another murder haunt him just for Ori. Taking his lover's hand, he turned to Norlin. "Speak to my intended again and I will not hesitate to cut you where you stand, you silver-tongued orc-kin."
Two guards hoisted the body away, Norlin futilely trying to wriggle free, as Dwalin guided Ori to the centre of the room, placing a gentle kiss upon his dainty hand- the skin in which his wedding band would rest upon.
Seeing the glowing smile his lover sent towards him and him alone, Dwalin knew. This unlikely little scribe would make him the happiest entity in all of Middle Earth, and long after their deaths people would sing about the love of the warrior and his flower.