Chapter Text
Frerin didn’t have much when it came to things that made him feel close to his parents. His adad had always focused more on Thorin and his amad had always focused on Dís. He didn’t begrudge his siblings for his parents slightly obvious favoritism. He had been closer to his grandfather before the sickness had begun to seep into his very bones.
Before gold, Thrór had valued knowledge.
Frerin remembered his grandfather walking him through the great library and telling the little prince of all the knowledge the dwarrow had collected.
“Knowledge is power,” the king had said. “It helps us move forward so that we won’t make the same mistakes as those who have come before us. It is something that we can all have, even the smallest of the dwarrow can hold the most interesting pieces of knowledge.”
There had been a dam that was often in the library when Frerin and his grandfather came. Although her clothes showed that she was only a low ranking scribe, she spoke to the king about her small discoveries. The king would listen to her with a smile on his face as she uncovered a word that had been lost and then found in an old book from centuries before, a birthday of some great dwarven hero.
It had all seemed a little boring to Frerin and he couldn’t understand why his grandfather even talked to the dam.
“It matters, Frerin.”
He has the forethought to not say it in front of the dam. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“You never know when information and knowledge might be useful. While you will not be king, your brother will need you, as will our people. It’s the duty of those in the Line of Durin to preserve our people’s memory, but also to continue to improve the knowledge already given to us.”
Frerin did not have much when it came to helping him remember his parents.
Frerin wasn’t sure how knowledge could be power since nothing had stopped the dragon from coming and destroying their home and his parents and grandfather, but the dam from the library had at least given him one thing. Her name had been Bel and, although he hadn’t seen her again after the battle. He had, however, written a small personal account of what happened in the battle. The Last Hours of a King , focused on how his grandfather had been able to snap out of his madness and had gone back into the danger zone to rescue those who might not have been able to get out. The way the dam spoke of his grandfather was pure poetry, showing all the goodness that Frerin remembered of his grandfather. It wasn’t some great epic, but it was a piece of his grandfather that he would always be able to keep.
It was a knowledge that, even under the effects of gold sickness, Thrór was a good dwarf who cared for his people, even at the detriment to himself.
—
She was going to die.
Die of embarrassment.
Peony just knew her face was redder than her hair.
She had seen the prince half naked . Just the thought of it made her heart pound like a hammer to an anvil. She hadn’t even seen her father without his shirt because hobbits were not in the habit of walking around half naked even in their own rooms . Now she had seen not just any chest, but the prince’s chest.
Broad. Tan. Hairy. Muscled.
She could just die.
If Adrina ever found out, Peony just might get murdered. While dwarrow were more into showing off their bodies, it was in the training yard and it was rare for princes to show their chests unless they were already courting or wished to begin courting or during a very rare ceremony that happened once every century.
His chest.
Peony was going to die of overheating if she kept thinking about it.
Durin blue eyes glaring at her.
Oh. He probably thought so little of her. She had felt like an ant. She knew she was small, but she had never realized how small.
She raced through the halls of the mountain and out of the royal wing. There was no way she was going to return home. She found herself in front of a cozy looking door and began to knock as politely, but loudly, as she could.
“Coming!” the familiar voice of Ori came from the other side. The door opened and her friend’s eyes widened in surprise. “Peony, what are you—”
She threw herself into the dam’s arms and started crying from embarrassment. Ori froze for only a moment before she pulled Peony inside and closed the door behind them. The dam ushered the dwobbit further in and sat her down in an old overstuffed chair. Peony could see Dori standing in the kitchen entrance looking concerned as Ori handed Peony a handkerchief.
“What happened, Peony?” Ori asked gently, sitting down next to her. “What’s gotten you in this state?”
It was only then that Peony realized her dress was in disarray. Her sleeve was torn and she knew her hair was more wild than usual. She dabbed at her eyes before blowing her nose. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m… I’m okay, truly. I… I’m just so embarrassed.”
Dori brought her tea and sat down on the other side of her. “Tell us what happened, dear,” he said, making sure she took a sip of the chamomile tea. “In your own time.”
Peony took a steadying breath before telling the pair of siblings what had happened. She began with finding the princess and then the maids coming in. “It probably looked so wrong. I wasn’t truly on his bed, I was leaning, but he was far too close and he was shirtless! I don’t even remember seeing my father shirtless. Ever! Hobbits don’t even go swimming without their shirts. It’s why I never go to the lake. It’s so embarrassing!”
“You two were by yourselves?” Dori practically squeaked. His cheeks were flushed pink.
“The princess was in the bathroom so it must have looked like that, but surely everything will be fine considering—”
“If the maids say nothing you should be fine.” Ori chewed her lip. “But this is the biggest gossip since the queen began wearing looser clothing and that was years ago.”
“It doesn’t help that you have a very distinctive look, dear,” Dori added. “Your hair is quite famous. Most dwarrow with hobbit blood don’t look quite so hobbitish as you do. If the maids do gossip it won’t take long to figure out who you are. It might ruin your reputation.”
“ Reputation?! ” Peony blinked. “But if they just waited—”
“From what you’ve described it would look pretty bad and it would only get worse from there.” Dori shook his head.
“But…” If everyone just waited even four months they would see that nothing had happened.
“But what was the prince thinking?” Ori almost growled. “Even though Peony wasn’t doing anything, he should have gotten a guard or something! And intimidating a dam enough to make her back away from him!”
“It was more that he wasn’t wearing a shirt,” Peony admitted. She had never been close to a chest like that before. Broad and tan and hairy. She was going to overheat just at the thought of it again.
“Even so!”
“Ori.”
The dam crossed her arms with a huff.
“Perhaps it is not so bad,” Peony said hopefully. “Perhaps they did not get a good look at me or perhaps something bigger will happen.”
“I doubt it.”
The three looked up to see Nori standing at the door entrance. The thief stepped in and closed the door behind him. His hair was down that day, meaning he had been thieving since his usual style of hair was fairly recognizable.
Peony could feel herself flush.
She would never admit it to Ori, but she had always fancied her youngest brother. While he was a ruffian and a thief, he was one with a code of honor and a goodness in him that was so easy to find if one just looked. No, she would never admit those small feelings for Nori to her friend. It wasn’t proper and she knew the dwarf saw her only as a friend to his sister, probably even as an extra sister he needed to look after. She had no hope of it going anywhere.
Just like last time.
“Have you heard something, Nori?” The mithril haired dwarf asked.
“I’ve heard a few things.” He took off his cloak and hung it on a hook. “It’s already reached the king, or at the very least the queen. She does run the royal household after all.”
Peony paled. “But nothing happened!”
“It doesn’t matter, sweets,” Nori shook his head, coming into the room to get closer. “It looked compromising, therefore it is. ”
“But nothing happened.”
“I believe it,” Nori nodded. “We all do, but it doesn’t matter what three dwarrow of a less than respectable branch of the Line of Durin and a dwobbit think. What everyone else thinks matters more. And it’s not going to be good.”
“Well, what’s going to come of it?” Ori asked.
“Right now the gossip is just in the royal wing, but who knows where it will go tomorrow.” Nori shook his head. “I doubt either party will be thrilled.”
—
The second he was called into Thorin’s study he knew his brother knew.
He had hoped to have more time to think of something, some way to get out of it, but there was no chance of him figuring out anything now. All he could hope for was that Asta would be on his side and they could all figure out something together.
Frerin knocked on the oak door.
“Come in.”
Taking a deep breath, the prince opened the door and stepped inside the office. He grimaced when he saw, not only his brother and Asta, but Dís and Víli as well. He supposed it was a good sign that the boys weren’t there. They were barely adults so they should have been, but Frerin was eternally grateful that they weren’t. They’d try to lighten the mood and that would just make it worse.
“I just gave you the ability to not marry and you do this?” Thorin sounded more resigned than anything.
Frerin scowled and closed the door behind him. “A strange dam was in my room and I was trying to figure out why. Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what the maids say,” Asta said with an arched eyebrow.
“Well, they’re wrong. Nothing happened. Ask Thora. She was there. ”
“But the maids didn’t know that and they’ll just assume we’re lying so you don’t have to marry some random dam who snuck her way into your room.” Dís folded her arms.
Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “While Thora does say she had been the one to bring the dam into the room, it doesn’t change anything. We have it barely contained now, but it will get out.”
“Nothing happened, Thorin. I don’t even know the girl!”
“Peony Baggins.”
Frerin’s heart stopped for a second as the spymaster stepped out of an actual shadow. Mahal he was going to murder someone from shock alone at how he even managed to get in the room.
“Is that her name?” Asta asked.
“Aye. She’s my sister’s friend.” Nori crossed his arms and kept his blank gaze on Frerin. “She’s a dwobbit from the Shire. Her mother was the daughter of a minor lord of little consequence. Her father was a hobbit from a rather respectable family.”
“Was?” Dís asked.
“Died a few years ago. Her father of old age and her mother of heartbreak. Her father’s family sent her here because she wasn’t of age yet and they thought it best to be around people who aged like her.”
Frerin supposed their reasoning made sense.
“And she’s living with her mother’s family?” Thorin asked.
“Her uncle and his wife and daughter. She spends most of her time in the library, where she mainly rebinds and transcribes old book. For the rest she tails after her cousin and usually prefers to spend time with my sister. She’s a good girl. Doesn’t deserve what you’re all going to make happen.”
“I don’t care who she is!” Frerin snapped. “I’m not marrying her!”
Dís smacked the back of his head. “You are a Durin. You do not put dams in compromising positions and then let their reputation lie in tatters.”
“We can just make sure it stays contained!”
“Unless someone wants to announce they’re having another child, it’s not going to stay contained,” Nori snapped. “Peony has a distinctive appearance. People will know who she is. Her reputation will be ruined if something doesn’t happen soon.”
“It’s not my—”
“It is our problem,” Thorin cut in before Frerin could say anything else. “While you might not be looked upon favorably if we do nothing, you won’t be the ones who have to live with the shame. What if that had been Dís?”
Frerin’s stomach turned into a knot. He would have throttled Víli if his brother-in-law had done something like it had appeared he had. Thorin probably would have been the first in line before him. And this girl, this Peony, didn’t have any brothers and just one uncle to look out for her in such a way. The other half of her family had sent her to the mountain to be with people who were more like her.
“I can’t marry her, Thorin,” Frerin said more quietly. “It’s not fair. To either of us.”
His brother sighed. “Sometimes life isn’t fair to any of us.”
—
“Peony Baggins!”’
She winced at the shrill voice of her Aunt Brina practically shook the room. The dwobbit stood from her place in the study her uncle rarely used and gave a small curtsy. “Yes, Aunt Brina. What may I do for you?”
“What’s this I hear about you spending time with those awful Ris?”
“Ori is my friend,” Peony said quietly. “I had a… difficult moment at work and I went to Ori’s home to talk things over.” Even if they could only hope that nothing came of the Incident.
“They may be of the Line of Durin, but they are lowly folk, not befitting of anything from a girl who has even an ounce of firebeard blood in her.”
“Ori is my friend . It doesn’t matter that she—”
A sting of a slap shot through her cheek so hard that tears pricked her vision. “Her mother never even married and bore three children of different fathers. I will not have you sully our name!”
“I’m an adult,” Peony said, lifting her chin. “I’m of age. You can’t tell me what to do!”
Another slap and Peony had enough.
She pushed her way past her aunt and stomped to her room. She slammed the door and began to pack. She’d spend one day with Ori and then go back to the Shire. Surely there would be some family in Dale that would be willing to take her when they went off trading to Gondor. Then she’d find a way to get in contact with the king, her mother had made friends with him, surely he would be able to get her back to the Shire. She didn’t care if everyone she knew and loved would age more rapidly than she would. Her father had been with her mother and Peony doubted her mother had ever regretted it.
Peony folded what little clothes that she owned and shoved on her best walking boots. She wouldn’t need any shoes in the Shire. She just needed one pair. She packed away her books and her notes and anything else she thought to be important. She packed her amad’s book last.
She just couldn’t stay here anymore. Her mother’s family had always kept her around with disdain, but they had never hurt her physically. This was the last straw. They wouldn’t be able to hurt her emotionally, physically, or otherwise.
She would go back to the Shire, no matter how much it hurt to see him again. Maybe she would split her time between the Shire and Ered Luin. Anything would be better than Erebor. The only things she would miss would be the library, the only people, the Ris.
She would miss Ori, her only friend that she ever made in the mountain. She would miss Dori who had become like a father to her, more so than her uncle had ever tried to be. She would miss Nori with his slow smile and sense of humor. She’d miss them all.
Peony picked up her bag, which wasn’t much anyway, it wasn’t as though her family had given her much in the ways of worldly possessions. She looked around her small room and took a deep breath.
“Goodbye room.”
Peony made her way to the door and opened it, only to find Dwalin on the other side, his hand raised as though he were about to knock.
“Peony!” her Uncle Nar shouted. “Where do you think—”
She watched as Dwalin took in her appearance, of the possible bruise growing on her cheek, of the traveling bag in her hand. Then he looked her in the eyes almost a little sad.
“What can I do for you, Dwalin?” she asked softly.
“I need you to come with me, Peony,” he said gently. “The king wants to see you.”
—
Frerin waited in his brother’s study as Dwalin had gone to collect the dam he was going to marry. Apparently the guard knew the girl too. The prince had actually received a short glare from his brother’s friend before he left to retrieve her from the wing of minor lord’s homes.
“Thorin—”
“No, Frerin. It needs to be done.”
“But you just gave me permission yester—”
“And things have changed since yesterday. If you were more a dwarf of thought than action, you would have realized the consequences of being in a room with a dam shirtless with the door closed. You should have gone to get someone.”
“I wanted to know—”
“And now you do, but at a price. I will not have you sully a girl’s reputation because you weren’t thinking. If you want to do any of the things you want to, you’ll have to discuss them with her after the first half year of marriage.” A knock came to the door. “Who is it?”
“Dwalin.”
“Come in.”
Frerin turned to look back as Dwalin opened the door and allowed the dam to come in first. He hadn’t really noticed what she looked like when he had last seen her. Her hair was a mass of volcanic stone curls with two braids to denote what family she was a part of and to show that she was a scribe of some sort. She held a bag to her chest as though it and its content were the most precious things in the world. Her eyes were a dull green and he supposed those were pretty. She barely looked dwarven at all.
He also noticed the hand sized bruise on her cheek.
A flash of anger rose in Frerin’s chest. How dare someone lay a hand on a dam, especially one so small and unsturdy. Then he felt guilt. Was it because of him? Had she been slapped because of him? For what it had looked like they had done? Was the cause of her pain him?
“Take a seat, Miss Baggins,” Thorin said, motioning to the chair Frerin was standing by.
She glanced at the chair and her gaze flickered only momentarily to Frerin before she did as she was told, holding the bag tighter to her chest. She gave a curtsy before sitting down and staring at a spot on her lap.
“Miss Baggins, do you understand why you are here?” Thorin asked gently.
“I was in Prince Frerin’s rooms and someone saw us in a position that looked compromising,” she answered softly.
Frerin recognized the softness of her voice, but he couldn’t place it.
“Yes, and do you know what that means.”
“I was planning on leaving the mountain anyway,” the dwobbit said. “I want to go back to the Shire.”
“I doubt what had happened will remain as only Erebor gossip,” Thorin said.
“Shirefolk would see that nothing happened,” she said it with such certainty that Frerin almost believed her.
“Perhaps, I don’t know enough about your people to agree with you, but dwarrow would not see that at all.” Thorin folded his hands together. “I can’t let you leave, Miss Baggins. As your king and as the head of my family I cannot, in good conscious, let you leave with the reputation you will have as word of what appeared to have happened will spread.”
“What are you asking of me?”
She seemed so small to Frerin and he remembered Nori saying how young she was. Mahal, she was younger than Kíli by a decade. He was almost old enough to be her father.
“To protect yourself and the honor of Durinsfolk, you and my brother must marry before the month ends.”
“Surely if we just wait—”
“I’m sorry, Miss Baggins, but it is the only thing we can do.”
Frerin could see her bottom lip tremble and he felt horrible. He should have thought things through. If he had, neither of them would be in this situation at all.
“Is there someone you’re sweet on?” Frerin asked softly. He knelt down next to her. “Perhaps a dwarf or hobbit that might—”
“Frerin.”
She shook her head, ignoring Thorin’s interruption. “I’m not some great dwarven beauty.” Her voice was so certain that he wondered who had told her so. “No one is interested in me in that way.”
“A hobbit—”
“There is no one I would marry back in the Shire, not under these circumstances. No one would.”
Frerin sighed. “Thorin, could I speak with her alone?” His brother gave him a sharp glare. “Or at least privately. You and Dwalin can stay, just let me talk to her without you actively listening.”
Thorin sighed and nodded, standing to go speak with Dwalin.
Frerin stood again before kneeling at her feet. She looked up at him through her thick lashes. She was pretty. True, she was not the epitome of dwarven beauty, but there was something pretty about her. Frerin would have at least stopped to get a second look at her if they had crossed each other in the marketplace or in the halls. He took one of her hands in his and he could feel her stiffen.
“I know this isn’t what either of us want,” he squeezed her hand gently. “But I will try to be a good husband to you.” Mahal, she was practically a child. “At the very least a good friend. As a princess of Erebor, some things will be expected of you, but I’ll do what I can to help you. I… there are things that I hope to do someday, and I have no doubt there are things you wish to do as well. We can try to do those things even if we are married. I will never ask you to give up your dreams or anything like that. I have dreams of my own and I hope you do not wish to keep me from them. I doubt you would.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. Mahal, they were like uncut emeralds. Untapped beauty that had yet to be crafted into the jewels they could be.
“We might never be lovers who share a marriage bed, but we could be friends. Would you be my friend, Miss Baggins?”
“Peony,” she replied softly.
“Pardon?”
“If we are to marry, you can just call me Peony.”
He smiled sadly and squeezed her hand again gently. “Would you be my friend, Peony? Would you be my wife?”
She searched his eyes, as though looking for his sincerity. She seemed to find it for she squeezed his hand back. “Yes.”