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Last Durin's Day they had finally managed to reach Erebor and enter it's stony door into the halls of their father's and forefather's and beyond the generations. Once again had the rightful King under the Mountain stepped to the halls that he was to rule. But it was not right time and place to celebrate, yet. They had dragon to kill and reclaim their home. And they had made it. It cost lives of beloved ones; elves, dwarves, men when they all together faced the orcs and goblins trying to get the treasure of the Lonely Mountain. Friends and foes had met their end in the battle of five armies, which nowadays was just a distant harsh memory to those who saw the battle and said their last goodbyes. After that day new kings were crowned, new alliances forged and old fights settled, for now.
Dwalin let out a deep sigh. The days a year ago were still fresh on his memory and on his skin, sporting ugly cuts on his arms and damaged left leg. Talented dwarf smith had made him a sturdy support for his leg so he could walk without any damn sticks. But running was still forbidden. Like he had any reason to run. He didn't have to fear for his life anymore when it came to the Ri brothers. He didn't have to run from his thoughts and actions towards the youngest one nor did he have to run for his life when the two oldest found out. Now he just walked leisurely along the half repaired stairs and halls and corridors of the mighty mountain towards the library where his intended was hard at work. It was time for all the inhabitants to stop working, gather to the temporary feasting hall and celebrate the Durin's Day. The library doors stood open to all traffic, the last dwarrows coming out, leaving one last to bustle around the high shelves stacked with books and rolls.
”Ori, it's time to go or ye gonna miss the big surprise,” Dwalin stated to the dwarf on the ladder just above the high of the old warrior. The scribe put the last books on their places and climbed down just enough to give a peck on the warrior's forehead and jumped the last three steps straight to the ground.
”I'm done. We can go. Do I need to change? It's a big celebration after all...” Ori fidgeted with his mittens, almost brand new made by his oldest brother.
”Nah, we're all in our rags anyway, don' wanna be too fancy for that, not just yet,” Dwalin laughed and pulled the scribe under his arm and walked them about of the library.
The feast was splendid with all the food they had saved and gathered to have the meal for all. The year had started scarce but further they got the year, the better their crops had flourished and given them food, cattle was getting fatter and almost rebuilt Laketown and Dale provided some of the other supplies. The speech of the King was short but filled with promises they were able to fulfill and the kingdom becoming more alive day by day, more safe and more habitable once they got the nearest living quarters fixed for more dwarves. All the dwarves, a few men and couple elves cheered at the speech, raising the toast for the king, Thorin II, son of Thrain II, son of Thrór, rightful King under the Mountain, not forgetting the rest of the company and their burglar, who has stayed with them after the battle, having the king requesting him to stay and forgive him his stupid antics. Mr. Baggins was more than pleased of the requests and was crowned as the prince consort of the king on a late summer's eve. Happy ending for them then. Fili kept his place as a heir to the throne, growing wiser day by day as he walked after Thorin, like a shadow to absorb everything there was to know about rebuilding a kingdom. Kili on the other hand enjoyed his freedom now more that anything, he was finally allowed. The mountain rang with the laughter of children as Bombur's precious dwarflings had arrived with his wife. Bofur got the thief tamed and settle down, Bifur tinkering toys for the children, Oin doing what he did best, mishear and heal, Gloin just radiated the proudness of being a father as his offspring, Gimli, and his wife joined him. Balin has let go most of the stressful life and had settled down too, finally being able to enjoy his tea with very delightful company of Dori. And Dwalin and Ori, they had settled their home under the same roof without much difficulties and trouble from both dwarves' older brothers.
The feast had ended and king ushered them to step outside the mountain for something they had planned for ages with the hobbit and the grey wizard. Dwalin knew what was to come and led the scribe against the ushering to higher levels and along the mountain side towards one of the old guard towers, where they could see to all directions as the sky opened wide above them. They sat down on the stone bench near the edge and Dwalin threw his cloak around both of them. Ori pulled a small journal from his pocket and held the charcoal piece just above it, ready to draw whatever the surprise possibly was going to be. Dwalin snorted and turned his gaze to the dark sky, noting the faint sound of a horn signalling for the show to begin. And it did, with a blast. Huge, colourful and loud blast, which surprised the unprepared scribe so badly he fell backwards from the stone bench and his journal and charcoal flew a few feet away from him. Dwalin stared at the younger dwarf on the ground, looking like a startled deer. The warrior's booming laugh echoed back and forth around the tower's remains and got the scribe's attention back to the present moment. Dwalin reached his hand and pulled Ori back next to him and tried to subdue his laughter to spare the other from utter embarrassment, but failed when he gazed at his intended again and doubled over with more laughter. Ori pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to be mad but the colourful and bright blasts of light caught his attention once more, this time he just stared wide eyed the sky. He heard nothing around him, he was so fascinated by the fireworks. Dwalin finally was able to stop his laugh and coughed few times to even his breathing and wiped the small pearls of tears from the corner of his right eye, looking at the smaller dwarf if he was giving him murdering looks. But no, the smaller one was staring the night sky, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide in wonder. And to Dwalin, that was a sight to remember, something to cherish in his mind till his dying day, confirmation that he had made the right decision to have the scribe as his intended and partner for life. Dwalin straightened his back and wrapped his arm around the other once more and pulled him closer. It seemed that the scribe already had forgotten what had happened just a minute or two ago and let Dwalin embrace him and keep him warm as the night got colder and winds started to howl in the crevices and crooks of the ancient old mountain.
The fireworks kept banging and flashing.
”Ya know, 'm sorry fer laughing at ye. I just found it funny, seeing ye fall on yer bum like that,” Dwalin muttered, not looking at Ori. They stayed quiet for awhile until Ori got up and Dwalin started to panic if he really did make the scribe mad at him. But Ori had something else in his mind and he sat back down, this time on Dwalin's lap and leaned his head on the older one's shoulder.
”I haven't seen fireworks before, Dwalin, I just... got really surprised. And little scared,” Ori admitted.
”Aye, ye did, ye did, but there's nothing to be scared of, ye know. Not all fire is harmful or dangerous,” Dwalin smiled and circled his arms around the scribe, who turned to kiss the warrior's bearded face and rested their foreheads together for a moment, until returning his attention back to the fireworks. There they sat until the last spark of the fireworks died down. This definitely was the best Durin's Day Dwalin had and ever would experience.