Chapter Text
Damn you faulty Notes sectio--
I know, I know. It's been a ridiculously long amount of months (months) since I last updated after a certain someone (if you're reading this, you know who you are!) asked me to do an extension to this story: the very long awaited wedding everyone in Erebor has waited for-- and probably you guys as well--
I'd like to apologise for the wait, as these last few months have been a pain in the arse-- I mean, no worse than seeing your beloved being taken by a dragon who was supposedly dead, but, you get the poin--
And I'd also let you all know that I am grateful for all of those that left comments and all those kudos (163!!!). I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!
P.S: this is my first time ever writing a wedding-- forgive me if I haven't gotten the details right and do point them out if you wish owo
oOo
They took things... slow.
After everything that had happened, the very last thing that Thorin would have wanted to do was to drown Bilbo in any more stress and fear after everything that had happened.
For various weeks, Bilbo had protested against having a four guards tailing him if he was ever to leave the royal quarters, but Thorin would hear none of it.
He was not going to lose Bilbo again.
Council meetings became a dreadful subject as well. Erebor had yet to see good days; the dragon was gone, yes, but in his wake, Smaug had left a path of chaos and disorder that Thorin found himself having to clean up.
Well, he was King Under The Mountain, and a King had the duty of keeping the peace.
Slowly but surely, things were growing better. Not only just for the mountain.
Bilbo, much to Thorin's relief, was beginning to go back to himself. To the warm, kind hobbit he had known. The nightmares were still there. There were nights when Thorin would have to coax the hobbit back to sleep, others where they would stay awake long into the night, laying in each other's arms and talking softly until Bilbo was able to go back to sleep.
Slowly, but surely, things were becoming what Thorin yearned them to. Bilbo was no longer in danger, Erebor was thriving, and those dreadful council meetings were getting easier to bear, especially on days where he had his beloved with him.
And in addition to that, Bilbo had long since agreed to his offer of a betrothal.
The days passed, weeks, months, at last a year.
And here Thorin found himself, knee deep in wedding preparations.
"I do not want him to feel stressed or pressured," he said, his brows furrowing the slightest bit. Dis was sitting opposite him, several scrolls of parchment set around her, some in her hands, a quill sitting within an ink pot.
"I hear you, brother. What did you have in mind?"
"A small ceremony. Nothing as complicated as the coronation."
"Hmm. Alright. But tell me: have you any idea of how hobbits celebrate occations such as these?" Dis' words made him pause.
"I… to tell the truth? No." He shifted in his chair. What would Bilbo feel comfortable around? A small, simple celebration? Or something grander?
"You should ask him then," Dis replied, reaching forward for the quill and scratching something down on one of the parchment sheets.
"Ask me what?"
Thorin knew that voice better than he knew his own, turning his head to watch as the hobbit in question walked towards them. Thorin felt a warm feeling in his chest blossom just to see that the hobbit was well. He looked healthy, happy.
And it will remain that way for as long as I live.
"Hobbit weddings," Dis said. Bilbo hummed, walking to Thorin, picking the chair closest to him and settling himself on it.
"They are jolly, very loud. Back when I lived in the Shire, they could become one of the most awaited events of the year." Bilbo's hand found Thorin's, slipping his callused, yet soft fingers around it.
"Did you like them?" Dis asked him while continuing to scratch away with her quill.
"Some I did, others I did not. But..." he trailed off.
"But?" Thorin prompted him, gently. Bilbo turned his gaze to him, smiled. Squeezed his hand.
"Well... whatever makes you happy will make me happy. I don't, uh, really know how dwarven weddings work, so…"
"Marriage ceremonies are reserved," Dis said, setting down the quill. "The guests, as you would call them, are those closest to you. I'm sure that Thorin told you about the beads?"
"He did," Bilbo replied, looking up at his beloved.
"Well, that and the vows are probably what differentiates dwarven ceremonies from your own."
Thorin turned in his seat to properly look down at Bilbo. "Tell me true: what is it you wish?"
oOo
The ceremony took place not very long after, a simple week later when everything had been settled. It was not so very big or grand, but rather all their closest friends and loved ones come to witness them take their vows and exchange the beads they had for each other.
Bilbo had walked to the altar past his companions and friends, hand in hand with his King and love, a tangled mix of nervousness and glee having produced a good many butterflies within his stomach.
The ceremony went by faster than he had expected it to.
He nearly dropped his own bead while threading it into Thorin's hair, but his trembling fingers held strong, and soon Thorin was threading his own bead into Bilbo's hair.
Vows said, beads in place… they had become a pair.
Bound together by love and time, and the happy years to come by.
Later that night at the feast, Bilbo ate, drank, sang and danced, and in those few hours, he forgot about all the troubles he had lived, all the misfortunes he had suffered and the losses.
There was much to live for.
And Thorin was the best of all he lived for.