Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Shire, on the edge of Buckland, 2795 of the Third Age.

“I don’t know why we are bothering to stop here,” Thorin grumbled. “Nothing we have will interest these halflings, soft creatures I’ve heard them to be.”Frerin laughed and slapped his brother’s back as his pony trotted past.

“Cheer up brother! We should at least try to sell our wares. If anything, we will have a good story to laugh about!” Thorin rolled his eyes and grumbled, but made no other reply as their ponies made their way to Tuckborough. Frerin whistled and leaned back. Coming to Shire wouldn’t be a mistake.

____________

Frerin tried to hide his grimace as yet another halfling nervously looked at their booth and then scurried away. Risking a glance at his brother, Frerin couldn’t help but huff at the thunderous scowl that was gathering on Thorin’s face. Because that look was for sure going to invite any being to their booth and persuade them to buy their various wares he thought sarcastically. Turning back towards the street, Frerin could perhaps admit that coming to the Shire was a mistake. For the last couple of days they had set out their wares, an assortment of their hand-forged weapons, and tried to sell them to no avail. Not for a lack of trying on Frerin’s part either.

Scanning the crowded market, Frerin started to turn toward Thorin when a lady-hobbit a few booths down caught his eye. Frerin couldn’t help but gasp as it felt like a mace went through his chest and his gaze focused on her. He had found his One. His one was a halfling. Swatting the air behind him he asked, “Do you see what I see?”

“Yes, a lovely brunet,” Thorin breathed, sounding oddly breathless.

Frerin narrowed his eyes. “No, I’m pretty sure that color is ebony.”

“No, brunet. Like a tiger’s eye.”

“Ebony.”

“Brunet.”

Frerin tore his gaze from his One to the male halfling standing next to her. “Oh,” he replied lamely, “Definitely brunet.” He then shifted his gaze back to study his One. She was…. small. Taller than any of the halflings he had seen so far, yes, but so much smaller than any dam he had ever met. He narrowed his eyes. Did she.... yes, that was definitely a raven perched on her shoulder. A small part of Frerin touched on the thought that she had stolen it from a roost, but the raven wasn’t bound in any fashion so he quickly dismissed the idea. She held a loaf of bread in her hand, energetically gesturing to the halfling running the booth. Her curls stretched down to her slim waist. Frerin’s hands twitched. Thorin’s hiss broke his wondering thoughts of those curls and how they would feel running his fingers through them….

“Mahal’s balls,” Thorin cursed. 

Turning sharply, Frerin paled slightly as he watched the two halflings walk towards them. He couldn’t help but stare as his One’s face became easier to see as came closer. She was almost fae-like, with her delicate features, big emerald-green eyes, and that little noise. She glanced over, and then her eyes lit up as she moved closer to their booth. She scanned over the different weapons, stopping at a pair of throwing daggers. She carefully ran her fingers over them. And dear Mahal, she had freckles….“May I?” She asked in a sweet voice.

“Of course,” Frerin managed to choke out, nodding in what was surely the most demented way possible. His eyebrows raised as his One tested their grips, and then twirled them expertly and extended her arm to pinpoint an imaginary target. Perhaps not all halflings were entirely useless when it came to weaponry. She put her arm down and looked at him. “These are finely crafted weapons,” she stated. Frerin bowed his head.

“T-thank you, Mistress. My brother here forged the blades and I crafted the handles.” She nodded thoughtfully, and then her gaze grew shrewd.

“How much are you asking?”

“Six silvers coins,” Thorin butted in. “No lower.” Frerin glared at him. She looked shocked. 

“Why that is highway robbery!” She cried. Thorin glowered at her. And dear Mahal, Thorin was going to scare her off and then how would he convince her to join them back to Ered Luin….

“It should cost at least twelve coins!” Thorin’s mouth snapped closed. He looked as startled as Frerin felt.

“Twelve coins?” Thorin asked cautiously. She nodded vehemently.

“Yes, why the blades are perfectly balanced, fine steel they are. And the handles have a good weight and grip to them though I’ve never seen the stone that they are made of before-“

“Jade.” Frerin inputted. She blinked.

“R-right. Jade.” She coughed, giving Thorin’s halfling a side-eye. “Plus you have to account the time that it took you two Master Dwarves to make them, so really it would be quite unfair to price these daggers any lower than fifteen silver coins.”

“Fifteen??!”

“Why yes, of course.”

Thorin spluttered. Frerin was gobsmacked. No one had ever raised the price of the ware they were about to buy. Then her gaze suddenly grew mischievous as she set down the daggers and turned towards her companion, her brother maybe, who was watching the whole proceeding with amusement. 

“Izzy, look! Perhaps you could finally beat me with these fine daggers!”

Thorin’s halfling, Izzy apparently, threw his head back and laughed. “Oh ho!” He chortled. “Is that so?”

She smirked and opened her mouth to reply when a male voice shouted-“AMARYLLIS TOOK! WHERE IN YAVANNA’S GREEN FIELDS ARE YOU!?”

Her shoulders slumped and she looked disappointed. “I’m sorry, Izzy.” She apologized, patting his shoulder. He looked at her gently. 

“Don’t you worry about it, Amrie.” Izzy said easily. “You better go, before you brother has an aneurysm.” 

She nodded and bowed her head towards Thorin and himself. Then, before Frerin could say anything, she ran off in a flurry of brown skirts. He bit back his disappointment. Apparently halflings do not have Ones, since she did not recognize him like a dwarf surely would. Izzy cleared his throat. Frerin shifted his gaze back to the male halfling.

“I would like to buy the daggers. I believe fifteen silver coins was considered the fair price?”

Thorin sputtered and managed out a strangled, "Yes." Izzy nodded and pulled out a leather pouch. He counted the needed coins and handed them to Thorin, giving them a friendly smile. Thorin glowered. Then he slowly counted the coins and nodded as he shuffled to put them away. Izzy cleared his throat awkwardly and bowed.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Masters-“ 

“Frerin, son of Thráin, at your service.” He elbowed Thorin. Thorin threw a nasty glare.

“and Thorin, at your service.” 

“Issenbras Took, at yours and your family’s,” he said with a slightly uneasy smile and a nod. “I hope that I can do business with you again.” Thorin and Frerin turned towards each other as Issenbras walked away. 

“What in Mahal’s name are we going to do?” Frerin asked, voicing the question that they both didn’t have the answer to.

Chapter Text

Frerin stared at the streets with a vigor that he had not had the last couple of days. His One was here! She was no longer a figment of is imagination, a whisper from his soul. She was real, and if she couldn’t recognize him then by Mahal he would get her to like him. 

Frerin looked over and studied his brother. Thorin was in a truly foul mood, deciding that his One was not for him since the poor sod was a halfling. Thorin had also  argued against staying, but Frerin had begged to stay until he could at least know his One better.

Frerin did not care one whit about Amaryllis being a halfling. Mahal made her the other half of his soul, Frerin reasoned. And he was not the heir anymore since Fili was born, so that didn’t matter either. Plus, she held those daggers with skill. She obviously could protect herself to some degree. Frerin groaned. He wanted to get to know her, dammit! He wanted to know her, to learn everything that made up her. He sighed as he scanned the streets again. Perhaps she would come to the market again.

__________

Amrie squinted up at the clear sky as Cryfder flapped her wings and took off. She sighed and mopped her damp brow. Her brother’s garden wasn’t particularly well shaded, and all these Yavanna- chwyn melltigedig…. 

A shadow covered the blinding sun. Amrie blinked and looked up to stare at her sister-in-law. Adamanta Took nee Chubb was one of the most sought-out hobbits during the time that she was at a courting age. She was pretty girl with wheat-colored hair and a properly rounded belly (though it was firmer now that she was carrying) and a sharp tongue to match her sweet appearance. How she fell for her brother, Amrie could never guess (though she would never voice that out loud). She absently rubbed her left ring finger.

“Addy? Do you need something?” Adamanta shifted.

“Amrie…..” Adamanta broke off. She looked away and took a deep breath, placing a gentle hand on her belly. “Just know- just know that I fully support you.” Amrie cocked her head.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand-“ A wail broke out from the smial behind Adamanta.

“Cuz!” Amrie closed her eyes in irritation. When she opened them, Adamanta was nodding to Issenbras and hurrying back inside the smial. Amrie growled under her breath and glared at Issenbras. He held up his hands.

“What? What did I do?”

“Oh nothing,” Amrie growled tugging out another weed.

“You’re not acting like it was something unimportant.”

“Izzy!”

“Okay, okay. So touchy, Yavanna bless your toes.” Amrie shot him a look.

“I don’t need your smart aleck comments, Yavanna knows I already get enough of it.” Izzy grimaced, and plopped down next to Amrie. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Amrie lifted an eyebrow. Izzy shifted. “Right, sorry, I was just coming to ask if you would come to the markets again with me.” Amrie paused, and stared at Izzy.

“Why?” Izzy blushed.

“Be-because Dahlia and Ro noticed the daggers and they wanted to check out the booth to get some too but they don’t want to go by themselves and those d-dwarves didn’t really seem to like me and….” Izzy trailed off when Amrie continued to stare at him. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh, never mind,” he mumbled. Amrie reached over and moved his hands.

“Are you attracted to them?”

“Amrie!” Squeaked Izzy. Amrie smirked. 

“You do know that I don’t care if you tumble with a gu-“

“Please stop.” Izzy begged, face bright red. Amrie laughed, shook her head, and pulled up another weed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.” Izzy sighed. Amrie half-smiled and gently slapped his arm. “And if you help me with these weeds I’ll be free to go with you.” Izzy stared at her for a moment and then began ripping out weeds as quickly as possible. Amrie laughed silently to herself, and then joined him.

__________

Frerin couldn’t help but be disappointed. It was nearing the end of the day and Amaryrllis didn’t come. To heap on injury, no one bought from the booth again. He sighed.

“For Mahal’s sake, brother,” Thorin griped. “This nobody’s fault but your own. We could be on the way back to the mountains today if you weren’t so hellbent on getting to know your One. And may I add that your One that didn’t recognize you. She’s obviously not a khuzad….”

Frerin ignored him as he ranted on. It was depressingly easy. Of course he did have a lot of practice- Thorin acted like he was a pebble of twenty more than what should recommended for a dwarrow of his age. Like the time that Balin caught them and Dwalin sneaking out of a council meeting. Or the time that Dis would’t listen to Thorin about marrying Villi. Or….

Then suddenly, Frerin’s train of thought was thrown off by the sound of feet pounding against the flagstones. He blinked, and then looked up to see four halflings slightly panting, their cheeks flushed. A smile grew on Frerin’s face.

“Hello!” Amaryllis smiled. She was patting Issenbras’ back, the poor sod was weezing slightly.

“Hello yourself!” She said cheerily. She had smudges of dirt streaked on her face and hands. It was an oddly endearing look. She motioned to the other two flushed hobbits. “These our friends, Dahlia and Ro!” Both hobbits smiled and nodded. Amaryllis leaned over the table. “I hope you don’t mind, these nosey sods wanted to get their hands on nice dwarven-made weapons,” she mock-whispers. Frerin couldn’t help but laugh, especially as Amaryllis’ friends protested how they were not nosey thank you very much and her eyes danced in response. He leaned a little closer to her.

“It’s no problem,” he mock-whispered back. “I’m glad that at least some people in Tuckborough appreciate our workmanship. And I’m always surrounded by nosey people, my brother included.” Frerin winced as he received an elbow in his ribs for that. Amaryllis laughed. Well shit, Frerin thought. 

“Well, I thank you for being so willing to deal with us, Master-?” Frerin bowed.

“Frerin and Thorin, sons of Thrain at your service.” Thorin was glaring, Frerin could feel his eyes burning a hole in his back. Amaryllis curtsied.

“Amaryllis Took, at yours and your family. And please call me Amrie, everyone does.” 

“If you will call me Frerin. I’m too young to be a Master.” Amrie laughed merrily and held out her hand. Frerin shook it.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

Frerin sprawled out over the grass with a contented sigh.The last couple of weeks were filled with some of the happiest moments that he could remember since the fall of Erebor. Amrie and/or Issenbras would visit the booth every day or at least very other day. And they would bring their friends and snacks as they spent hours looking at the weapons and eat and chatter about everything. 

During these times, Frerin learned that his One was sensible, and she had bright laugh that lit up her entire being. She was kind; she had found the raven, Cryfder as Amrie called her, injured and near death. Amrie nursed the poor thing back to health, and now the bird hardly ever left her side. She was firm when she needed to be; he had only witnessed a rare few times when a person stood firm in their opinion against Thorin (she had fought with Thorin for the first several days about calling hobbits halflings. “We are half of nothing!” She stubbornly stated). All her friends looked up to her as a leader, but she never lorded over them. She was smart, and pretty, and so friendly, and he could on but you would probably roll your eyes and want to bash him over the head.

Frerin twisted his head to look at his brother, who was napping, and rolled his eyes. Issenbras and Thorin were slowly becoming friends through Amrie. Frerin himself personally really liked Issenbras. He was a rather level-headed fellow, with a razor-sharp wit and plenty of stories and drinking songs to put the Ur’s to shame. He honestly felt bad for the poor sod, it wasn’t his fault that Thorin had a stick up his arse constantly. 

He had tried talking to Thorin about Issenbras but Thorin refused to talk about it. He had even rounded up all of Amrie’s and Issenbras’ friends to try and bring them together, but to no avail to everyone’s frustration. 

However, for some reason Thorin got along well with Amrie. It was actually rather creepy how well they got along. He hadn’t seen Thorin be so willingly nice to anyone except for Dwalin and Balin. And that was a rare occasion itself.

“What are you thinking about?” Frerin sat up and looked at Amrie. She was the only one in the group besides him that was still awake, and it was probably because she didn’t eat as much as everybody else. He smiled. 

“My brother and Issenbras.” Amrie’s face fell. Her eyes flickered down to where Issenbras was curled at her feet like a cat. Then she scowled.

“I’m about to lock them both in a closet and make them stay in there until they’ve talked about their feelings.” Frerin smirked at the mental image.

“As amusing as that would be, they would probably break down the door and hunt you down to kill,” Frerin commented drily. Amrie sighed and shook her head. Then she carefully extracted her feet and plopped herself beside him. She stared wistfully at the waterfall that splashed down to make the little pond, and then the winding stream. Frerin quietly admired her for a while, and then;

“What are you thinking about?” Amrie blinked, and then put her chin on her knees and murmured:

“A picnic much like this one, a long time ago.”

“Ah,” he stated, for some reason feeling weirdly awkward.

“I was just a little girl, maybe ten years old. My brother was twenty. My parents had a rare day where they were both off.” At Frerin’s confused look, Amrie explained, “They were both Bounders. It’s- it’s the hobbit’s army I suppose you would call it.” Frerin nodded. Amrie continued in a soft voice.

“But anyways, they were both off at the same time, a rarity during the Spring and Summer months. So they packed a lunch, and took my brother and I here. My father and brother both fell asleep after eating, much like these fellows are. My mama and I, however, we weren’t tired. So mother said she had a special treat for me. She grabbed my hand and taught me how to climb up the waterfall. She showed me how the rocks on the top create a natural slide. We slid down, and our squeals woke up Papa and Gerontius.” Amrie laughed wetly. “We spent the rest of our time chasing each other up the waterfall and sliding down. It was one of the happiest days of my life.”

Frerin quietly reached out and wiped a tear from Amrie’s face. “Your parents?” He murmured. Amrie turned her face towards him, her eyes incredibly sad.

“They died protecting the borders eight years ago. Goblins,” she whispered. Frerin sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry.” Amrie lip trembled, but she shook her head.

“I’m just glad that they passed together. They were each other’s Hearts…. And when one Heart dies before the other, the one left behind fades. I’ve- I’ve watched it happen with other family members and it’s horrible.” Frerin furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly.

“What does that mean, that they were each other’s Hearts?” Amrie jerked slightly and then smiled wryly.

“I forgot that you haven’t been around for very long.” Frerin grinned and pretended to preen at that for moment causing Amrie to laugh. She turned to face Frerin fully. “I don’t know how it is for dwarves, but for hobbits we have a person that we were made to be with. A soul-mate, I believe men call it, but we don't just pick someone willy-nilly. Yavanna chose most hobbits to be with one special person. We call it our Hearts.” Frerin nodded, his eyes wide. 

“We have something like that, too.” Frerin contributed. “We call them our Ones. Not every dwarf has them, but those who do are able to tell as soon as they look at their One.”  Amrie hummed and nodded thoughtfully.

“That would be nice, to know instantly. Hobbits slowly get a feeling when they find their Hearts.” Amrie paused, rubbing her left ring finger absent-mindedly. “They say that it’s a strong feeling of comfort and home when you finally recognize your Heart. Papa always said that with mama he always wanted to be around her. They were best friends, and then suddenly one day they both realized that they could live anywhere on Middle-Earth with each other and still feel like they were home.” Frerin let out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding.

“That sounds lovely.” Amrie smiled wistfully and nodded. Then her face grew contemplating and she eyed him. Frerin’s breath caught. Oh dear Mahal she’s going to see right through him and how was he going to explain that she was his One…. Amrie suddenly smiled, slapped her leg, and stood up. She stuck out her hand.

“Come on then.”

“What?” Frerin asked stupidly. Amrie’s smile was now a proper, blinding, grin. Her eyes danced.

“We’re gonna slide down the waterfall.” Frerin raised his eyebrows, but pulled himself up with her help. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows even higher as he watched her strip out of her clothes, leaving her in a simple shift. His face heated. 

“Frerin!”

“What?” Amrie put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot in mock indignation.

“Please tell me you are not planning on swimming in a full outfit and those clodhoppers!” Frerin blinked, and then roared with laughter. 

“Okay, okay,” he said, shaking his head. He unlaced his tunic and pulled it over his head. He also took off his belt and trousers and pulled off his boots and socks, leaving him in his braies. He put his hands on his hips in a mimicry. “Is this good enough for you??” He queried, and then did a double take when he noticed how wide Amrie’s eyes were and how flushed she was. She coughed.

“Amrie?”

“Right,” she breathed. “Just fine. Lovely.” She shook herself and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go.”

___________

Amrie took the short climb to regain her senses. Ffôl! Getting distracted by your friend she scolded herself. But he has a nice body, so unlike any of the hobbits that you know her mind whispered unhelpfully. And his feet! They are so tiny and hairless! Shut up she retorted to herself.

“So,” Frerin said, peering over the edge. “How do we slide down again?”

“Right.” Oh way to go, Amaryllis! Love that your verbal capacity is only one-syllable words. Her  musings were cut short when she noticed that Frerin was still waiting for her instructions. Yavaana help her, her face was surely bright red by now. “You see where the rocks are smooth? You want to sit there, and give yourself a little push. The water will do the rest.” Frerin nodded, smirked, and made a sweeping gesture. 

“Ladies first.” Amrie narrowed her eyes, but decided not to comment. She sat down, and yelled. The other’s heads popped up as they frantically tried to source where the noise came from. She waved wildly, gave herself a little push, and yelled again. She slid down, for a breath-taking moment was airborne, and then SPLASH! She pushed herself up to the surface, laughing. She heard Frerin whoop, and then he fell into the water with an even bigger splash. Amrie looked over where the others were standing, wide eyed.

“Wow,” Issenbras cheered. “That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” Amrie laughed, and paddled over to where he was standing.

For the next two hours, Frerin, Issenbras, and their group of friends chased each other up the waterfall, slid down, and paddled in the water with each other. With Frerin’s help, Amrie was able to bully Thorin into sliding down also and getting into a splash war. Amrie doesn’t remember when she’s laughed so hard, for so long. After a while, everyone flopped on the ground, legs wobbly and sides aching. Armrie turned her head and looked at Frerin, who was smiling at her gently.

“WelI, I think this counts as one of the happiest days of my life.” He said. Amrie smiled.

“Mine too.” Frerin beamed.

Chapter Text

“You know, for someone who says that he’s not going to pursue his One, you’re fretting an awful lot.” Frerin dryly commented. If looks could kill, Thorin’s would’ve created a four-day old body. 

“Shut up.”

“Issenbras is one of the easiest-going fellows I’ve ever met. He’s not going to be mad at our present. Emphasis on ours.” Thorin glared and stomped towards the tents where several dozen hobbits were milling about. Frerin shook his head, sighed, and followed him.

As they got closer, Frerin scanned the crowd for Amrie. She had stopped by the booth earlier for a few of minutes and had laughed at him for a good five minutes when he had asked her if she was going to the party. He still felt the remnants of the blush from the embarrassment of how Mahal-damned stupid he must’ve seemed. Shaking his head, he joined Thorin who was having a halting, awkward conversation with Issenbras. Issenbras grinned, probably relieved the poor sod, and raised his mug towards Frerin in a greeting.

“Happy birthday, Issenbras!”

“Frerin! Thank you for coming!” Frerin smiled.

“Of course, we wouldn’t miss it! By the way, has Thorin given you your present yet?” Thorin jabbed his elbow out, but Frerin neatly sidestepped it. Issenbras looked confused.

“You got me a present?” Thorin scowled.

“Of course we did,” he growled, sounding affronted. “What kind of dwarrow do you think we are?” Issenbras’ hands shot out.

“Hold on, hold on,” he said. “I think there’s a cultural misunderstanding. Do dwarv- er, dwarrow, guests give presents to the person whose birthday it is?”

“Hobbits don’t?” Asked Frerin, slightly startled. Issenbras shook his head.

“No, hobbits give gifts to their guests on their birthday.” Frerin glanced at Thorin. Well, that was a good thing to know. Thorin opened his mouth, but before he could make a comment a well-known voice floated over the din of other conversations.

“Izzy!” Issenbras stood on his toes and waved.

“Over here, Amrie!” Frerin couldn't help but stare as Amrie ambled over to them. She was wearing a dark green dress with delicate lace framing her throat. Her long hair was braided up into a crown, wisps already curling out of it. In her arms was a chubby, drooling babe. He blinked. Wait what!

“Happiest of birthdays to you, dear cousin!” Issenbras laughed and gently kissed her on her cheek.

“Thank you, cousin,” Issenbras said. He bent down slightly and smiled at the babe. “Is this one Hildigard or Isumbras?” Amrie chuckled.

“Isumbras. Hildigard was stolen by Auntie Lavender as soon as we got here.” Issenbras grinned and reached out and softly brushed a little hand. 

“I didn’t know that you had a babe, or even married, Mistress Amaryllis.” Thorin inputted coldly. Amrie blinked, and then threw her head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“You thought- oh Eru help me you did,” Amrie gasped. She shook her head, shifting the child to wipe her eyes. “Isumbras here is my nephew. I don’t have any children, nor am I in any relationship that would bring about one.” She shook her head again, smiling. Thorin looked as embarrassed as Frerin felt. A nephew by Mahal! Luckily Issenbras sensed their embarrassment, and quickly changed the subject by saying,

“You’re just in time, Amrie, I was about to open the present Thorin and Frerin gave me.” Amrie tilted her head.

“They gave you a present?”

“Aye. Apparently dwarrow guests give presents to the person having the birthday.” Amrie nodded interestedly. She looked around slightly, as if to see and find the present. Issenbras snorted at her antics. 

“Here,” said Thorin roughly, shoving their package into Issenbras’ arms. Issenbras beamed, and thanked Thorin, much to his embarrassment. Issenbras then carefully began unfolding the fabric covering. Amrie stood on her tiptoes behind his back and let out a wolf-whistle when she saw the objects contained in the wrapping. Issenbras opened and closed his mouth, no sound coming out. He carefully held up a fine metal dagger. 

Frerin, gratified by both hobbit’s responses, and couldn’t help but a be proud of their craftsmanship. It was a set, matching daggers made entirely of steel. The handles were weighted with iron to give them balance if they were needed to be thrown. And if Thorin did most of the metal work, well, no one would know. 

Issenbras carefully gave the daggers to Amrie and turned and hugged Thorin. And oh, Frerin lamented the fact that there was no one to draw this moment. He needed as much blackmail material as he could get. Issenbras stepped back from Thorin, cheeks slightly flushed. 

“Thank you,” he said, reaching over and giving Frerin a hug too. 

“You’re welcome,” Thorin said gruffly, ears bight red. “I’m glad that you liked it.” Issenbras smiled and stepped back towards Amrie. He looked like he was about to say something else when a matronly voice interrupted, calling his name. He sighed, and looked at Amrie. 

“Would you-“

“Show Thorin and Frerin where the food and ale is?” Amrie cut in. She gave a mischievous grin. “Was already planning on it.” Issenbras smiled and shook his head. 

“Thank you.” He took the daggers back from Amrie. Then excusing himself, he left. Amrie smiled and shifted the babe to her hip. 

“Come on,” she said, jerking her head slightly. “I don’t know about you, but I ate an hour ago, and now I’m starving.” Frerin laughed and Thorin looked amused, following her to one of tents. She took a plate from a stack and looked at the plates of food, the plate in her hand, and the babe in her other arm. Frerin smiled. 

“Here, give me your plate.” Frerin offered. “I’ll get food for the both of us.” Amrie looked relieved and nodded, handing over the plate. And after filling the plates with an assortment of food, and Thorin getting the ale for the two of them and lemonade for Amrie, they quickly found an empty table. Amrie sat down, and placed the baby on her lap. She tore a small piece off of a roll and handed it to the babe, who immediately started gnawing on it. Thorin glanced over the rest of the partying hobbits and asked,

“So Miss Amaryllis, how are half- hobbit parties done?” Amrie swallowed the bite she was chewing, and smiled. 

“Hobbit parties are pretty informal.” She shared. “We usually eat, then play games like conkers and dance. After a while of that the birthday person usually gives a little speech, thanking the guests for coming. Then there’s more dancing, eating, and general partying. At the end, the birthday person will hand out gifts to the guests as they leave.” Thorin and Frerin nodded thoughtfully. 

“Are there special hobbit dances that we ought to know?” Queried Frerin. Amrie shook her head. 

“No, most of the time hobbits go with the flow of the music played. There’s a lot of hopping and kicking out your feet involved. Couples usually dance together, but most hobbits just dance in groups of friends.” Frerin nodded. Then he noticed a male hobbit that looked exactly like Amrie heading their way. Frerin inclined his head towards the approaching hobbit. 

“Do you know him?” He asked. Amrie turned her head and stood up quickly.  

“Brother.” She said stiffly. The other hobbit looked at Thorin and Frerin coolly and turned towards Amrie.

“Sister,” the hobbit said with an edge in his voice. “Do you know where Adamanta is?” Amrie shook her head. The hobbit sighed, clearly exasperated. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, grabbing the babe from Amrie’s arms. He turned around, throwing out, “If you can be bothered to find her, tell her that I am sitting with Aunt Lavender.” Frerin blinked and turned towards Amrie. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were shining. She closed her eyes and covered them for a minute, slumping. She then sat up and opened her eyes, smiling a brittle imitation of a smile.

“Sorry about Gerontius, he- he doesn’t really enjoy parties.” She said, rubbing her left ring finger and clearly looking like she would like be somewhere else. Frerin and Thorin looked at each other.

“It’s alright.” Frerin said cautiously. “So what is conkers?” Amrie gratefully latched on to the topic, and soon their table was filled with merry conversation. Other hobbits joined in and as soon music started up, Thorin and Frerin were pulled up from their chairs and dragged into the circle of Amrie, Issenbras, and their friends who had visited their booth. After a few dances, everyone flopped into their chairs, breathless and laughing. Frerin grinned, hobbit parties weren’t bad at all.

__________

Amrie leaned back in her chair, still laughing at poor Thorin’s awkward hopping. After she caught her breath, she decided that it was the perfect time to catch Issenbras off guard. She looked at Issenbras, who looked like he knew exactly what she was thinking. Well, he wouldn’t be wrong. She smirked.

“Oi! “She yelled. “Issenbras, give us a speech!” Clove, Bri, and Elm followed her example, yelling for a speech. Soon all the hobbits at the party were roaring for a speech. Issenbras pretended to glare at Amrie, before standing on top of their table and yelling,

“My dear family, the Tooks!” A cheer went up. “My friends, the Brandybucks, the Chubbs, the Bolgers, the Proudfoots, and the dwarrow of Ered Luin!” Another cheer went up, and Frerin and Thorin both roared. Issenbras smiled and let the noise die down. “My people, today is my first and thirty birthday! I am thirty-one today, two years from my coming of age!” The hobbits cheered, hammered at the table, and said, “Many happy returns!” Issenbras grinned, and ended his speech nicely with,“I hope that everyone has enjoyed themselves, and I thank you for celebrating with me!” There was a loud cheer, and Issenbras sketched a bow and hopped down from the table. Amrie laughed, and slapped him on the back. 

“A very fine speech, cousin!” She cheered. She turned towards Thorin and Frerin and her smile fell when she noticed how white they both were. “Thorin? Frerin? Are you two feeling well?”

“You’re thirty-one,” Thorin croaked. Issenbras cocked his head in confusion. 

“Yes, didn’t you hear my speech that I just gave?” 

“You hobbits come of age at thirty-three,” Frerin gasped. Amrie and Issenbras both narrowed their eyes.

“How old are dwarves when they come of age?” Asked Amrie. Frerin turned towards her with slightly wild eyes.

“Sixty.” 

“Oh.” Amrie said a bit stupidly. She bit her lip and began hesitatingly, “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are the two of you?” Frerin’s eyes got even wider. 

“I am seventy-three, and Frerin is sixty-eight.” Both of the hobbit’s eyes grew wide. 

“Yavanna’s dirt stained fingers!” Issenbras yelled. “Thorin could be both of our fathers! How long do you live?” The other hobbits within earshot stopped and stared at him. Amrie swatted his arm.

“Hush,” she scolded. She grew thoughtful, absently rubbing her left ring finger and mused, “If my memory serves me correctly, dwarrow live well into their three-hundreds.” At Thorin’s nod, she continued, “and if my math is correct, Thorin maturity-wise is around Gerontius’ age, while Frerin is around the age of Ro or Adamanta.” Issenbras pondered this for a minute, and then nodded.

“Huh, makes sense.” 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Frerin protested. “How old is Amrie then?” Amrie shifted slightly. 

“Amrie’s the youngest of the group, she’s twenty-nine.” Declared Issenbras. Frerin squeaked. 

“Are you alright, Frerin?” Amrie asked. Frerin looked nauseous. Frerin shook is head rapidly and ran a shaking hand down his beard. He loudly exhaled.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just fine.” Amrie reached over to pat his arm, but then she heard her sister-in-law’s voice calling her name. Quickly excusing herself, she went to go help with whatever Adamanta needed. It wouldn't do for Gerontius to discover her ignoring her sister-in-law's needs. 

__________

Frerin’s head was reeling. His stomach rolled and his tongue felt dry. His One was still a child. Mahal, he was going to be a cradle-snatcher. He honestly thought his stomach was going to revolt. Issenbras looked back and forth from Thorin to Frerin, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Frerin, are you sure you’re alright?” He asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Thorin said. He handed Issenbras an empty mug and directed the hobbit to get more ale. As Issenbras walked away, Thorin grabbed Frerin’s shoulders and shook him.  

“Twenty-nine, Thorin!” Frerin cried. “How can I even look at her!?” 

“You heard Issenbras,” hissed Thorin. “Hobbits come of age at thirty-three. You only have to wait four years, then she’ll be of age.” Frerin’s body went slack under Thorin’s hands.

“You’re right,” Frerin mumbled, “I’ve just got to wait for four years.” Issenbras came back with the mug of ale, and wordlessly handed it to Frerin. Frerin began chugging it. Issenbras watched him with his eyebrows furrowed, but made no comment.

As the night wore on Frerin chugged more ale and spent half the time wishing that Amrie would come back from wherever she left them, and the other half berating himself for wanting to have her close. Issenbras was worried, Frerin knew, but he couldn’t be bothered to really care. Then, as the party slowly came to a close, people started to come up to Issenbras, wishing him a happy birthday while he handed them miscellaneous wrapped packages.  

Suddenly, Frerin blinked. Amrie’s brother came up to Issenbras with a pretty golden-haired lass carrying two babes, and a little dark-haired girl clutching his hand. He shook hands with Issenbras and all the hobbits wished him many happy returns. Issenbras, as he did all night, smiled and thanked them, giving them a package each. When he asked Gerontius where Amrie was, Gerontius shook his head while the lass (apparently she was his wife) piped up and said that Amrie was taking care of Isengrim (another child?!). Issenbras nodded, and handed two more packages to Gerontius, asking him to give it to Amrie and Isengrim. The family nodded, and left. 

A couple more hobbits came up, wishing happy returns and receiving their presents. Then to Frerin’s surprise, Amrie came up to them pulling a little boy along with her. 

“Izzy, have you seen Gerontius and Adamanta? I’ve been trying to find them.” Issenbras nodded.

“Yes, they came up and got your presents already.” Amrie rolled her eyes and looked exasperated. 

“Of course they did,” Amrie grumbled. “And I bet they left too.” At Issenbras’ nod, she sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I wish you many happy returns, cousin. Have a good evening,” and she turned to leave when Issenbras said her name. She turned back to look at him. He fidgeted for a moment, and then squared his jaw. 

“I gave your brother a generic present for you and Isengrim, but I want to give you your real present,” He said. Amrie blinked, and then let go of Isengrim’s hand and carefully took the wrapped package he was holding out to her. She carefully unwrapped the present, and then gasped. 

Laying in the wrapping were the two jade throwing daggers.

“But I- You- What?” She stammered. Issenbras rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I saw how you looked at them when we first saw Thorin and Frerin’s booth,” he paused, swallowing. “And I know how you’re trying to save money and I thought-“ Issenbras was then cut off by Amrie quickly moving and throwing her arms around him.  

“Thank you,” she whispered brokenly. “Thank you so much.” Issenbras face grew soft, and he gently wrapped his arms around her. After a moment, she pulled back from Issenbras’ arms and gave him a watery smile. She sniffed and hugged the daggers close to her chest. Then she turned slightly towards Frerin and Thorin and teased, “You both should come to the Bounder try-outs tomorrow, and see your handiwork in action. Now I’ll definitely be beating Issenbras at throwing.” Issenbras laughed, and shook his head at the cheeky smile she flashed. Then giving Issenbras another hug, she waved goodbye and left. Thorin turned towards Issenbras. 

“What are the bounders?” Issenbras smiled, and explained,

“The Bounders are basically our army. It’s a small group of hobbits that watch over the border of the Shire and keep creatures with ill-intentions out. They also help monitor civil interactions if they get really bad.” Thorin rolled his eyes.

“Well, as far as I can tell, you hobbits are only capable of living their comfortable lives, so how could any group of you be considered an ‘army’?” Issenbras glared.

 “Well why don’t you come and see for yourself what we ‘creatures of comfort’ can do,” he challenged. Frerin narrowly managed to stop himself from covering his face with his hand. Thorin glared.

“Fine!”

“Fine!” Issenbras mocked. “You better go and prepare yourself for tomorrow then.”

“Alright!”

“Alright!” Thorin growled and stormed off. Frerin looked at Issenbras, who was rubbing his forehead with his hand, and apologized. Issenbras shook his head and said,

“No, no Frerin. I’m the one that should be apologizing. It’s just- It’s just Thorin gets under my skin during the worst of times.” Frerin nodded sympathetically and patted the hobbit’s back.

“It’s ok, Thorin’s known for having a foot-in-mouth syndrome,” Frerin joked with a cheeky grin. He bowed, and shook Issenbras’ hand laughing and wished him many happy returns. Issenbras gave a wry smile and handing Frerin two pouches. Frerin slightly stumbled after Thorin with a merry smile and inwardly lamented the idea that Thorin and Issenbras would ever recognize each other and be together as Ones.

Chapter Text

Frerin leaned against the fence and watched the small group of hobbits mill around nervously. He glanced at Issenbras and Thorin, who had apologized (reluctantly, in the case of Thorin) and were now discussing the use of staffs as a weapon. Frerin rubbed his head and tried not to scowl at the sun. After waking up with a wicked hang-over, he spent the day trying to deny his attraction for Amrie and battling the affects of drinking too much ale. He failed on both accounts.

Suddenly, the field went silent. Looking around to see what caught the other hobbits' attention, Frerin nearly fell over. Amrie was striding towards them in trousers that all the males (including Frerin) couldn’t keep their eyes off of. She was outfitted in the same leather armor vest that the other hobbits were wearing and she had a quiver and bow slung over her shoulder and a staff secured on her back. She held what looked like a bracer with both hands carefully.

But the biggest thing that held Frerin’s attention was Amrie’s hair. Instead of the long curls she had sported, it was now cropped to her chin, the front pieces carefully braided and tucked away. Thorin and Frerin both let out a strangled noise. Issenbras whistled as Amrie came close.

“Wow, cuz,” he said, giving her a hug, “I thought distractions weren’t allowed.” Amrie rolled her eyes and punched him on the arm. She handed the bracer to Issenbras and gave Frerin a lopsided grin. She furrowed her eyebrows and then moved until she was close enough to put a hand on his arm.

“Frerin, are you feeling ok?” She asked. Frerin shook his head mournfully and touched a lock gently. 

“Your hair,” he whimpered. Amrie cocked her head.

“What, you don’t think it looks pretty?”

“Why would you cut it??” Amrie blinked.

“Because it would get in my way and it’s a pain to maintain when it’s that long.” Frerin tried not to look as despondent as he felt. Amrie narrowed her eyes at him. “What does it mean for dwarrow to cut their hair?” Frerin shifted. Should I tell her.....

“To cut your hair usually means that you are grieving, or as a punishment for an especially bad wrong-doing,” Thorin explained. Amrie’s eyebrow’s went up and she frantically shook her head.  

“No, no, that’s not why I cut my hair- all hobbits usually get three haircuts a year! Don’t be sad, it will grow back in a year or so!” She looked at Issenbras desperately. He smirked at her and came up to throw an arm over her shoulder, dislodging Cryfder who squawked and flew over to Frerin to rest on the top of the rails of the fence and sulk. Issenbras snorted. 

“Well hobbits don't view their hair in that way. And I think you look cute. Who knows, maybe you’re setting to new style.” He teased. Amrie rolled her eyes. Frerin watched as the rest of their small group of friends gathered around her and started talking over each other, trying to complement Amrie’s hair and questioning her about her armor. Amrie laughed and easily answered all their questions. He looked at Cryfder and gently rubbed her head, trying to come to idea of Amrie having her hair short. It hurt him to look at her hair. He understood that hobbits thought differently, but it still hurt. 

__________

Amrie couldn’t help but smile at all the compliments she was getting from everyone. She glanced over at Frerin and Thorin, and her smile fell slightly. Thorin still looked disturbed and Frerin’s face was a war of hurt and sorrow. Amrie understood their culture was different, but it still stung a little that they didn’t like her hair. 

Suddenly, the whole group went quiet. She turned, and saw Gerontius was stomping towards them, his face an ugly shade of plum. Oh no.... Amrie sighed and stepped out of the group towards him. 

“Sister,” Gerontius bit out, his face contorted in rage, “What in Yavanna’s green fields are you doing?” Amrie looked at him levelly.

“I’m trying out to become a Bounder.”

“Like Mordor you are.”

“I am, brother, and while I respect your opinion- that is all it is, an opinion. Papa and mama wanted at least one of us to be in the Bounders. I have trained, and I am ready to join.”

“You are not of age! You don’t know what you want!” Gerontius snarled. Amrie’s eyes flashed.

“Believe it or not, brother, I DO KNOW!” She yelled. “I don’t want to be a house-hobbit. I don’t want to be a nursemaid to children who are not my own! And I especially don’t want to be married to someone that I barely know! You may be the up coming Thain, but you are not Papa!” Her hands flew upon to her mouth. She looked mournful. “Gerontius, I’m sorry-“ Gerontius shook his head.

“No sister,” he spit out, clenching his fists, “I may not be father, but I am the male head. And I may not be able to stop you from trying out, but do know that if you choose to go through with this, you may not live in my smial any more. And don’t even try to talk to my wife and my children!” Amrie stiffened, and she blinked her eyes rapidly to keep the tears from falling. 

“I understand, brother,” she whispered brokenly. Gerontius shook his head in disgust and stormed towards the official-looking group of hobbits. Cryfder cawed and bounced her head up and down in distress. Issenbras walked up and carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Amrie? Are you alright?” Amrie turned to face him. 

“No, Izzy,” She whispered, dragging her hand across her face. Issenbras’ face contorted and he held her as she tried to come to terms with what just happened. After a few minutes Amrie gently pushed back and wiped her eyes and face. She went over to the distressed raven, and stroked her head. She then straightened up, and clenched her jaw. “I’m not okay right now,” she stated, “But I will be one day.” Issenbras nodded and grabbed her hand.

“It’s okay, Amrie. We’ll do this together.” Amrie smiled gratefully as Uncle Didinas yelled for all the try-outs to come to the center of the field.

__________  

Frerin’s heart ached as he watched Amrie shake and silently sob in Issenbras’ arms. As he watched Amrie and the rest of the hobbits walk to the center, Thorin leaned over with a thunderous expression and murmured,

“Are you good?” Frerin stared at him with an ironic expression. “Right,” he muttered, “Sorry.” 

“We need to help Amrie find a place to live,” Frerin said softly. Thorin nodded, but he still looked fairly thunderous. Frerin patted the agitated raven as they watched the hobbits break off into groups of two. Frerin’s eyebrows raised as he watched the small groups spar with their staffs at a shouted command. They had a grace and speed that he instantly envied. Frerin snuck a glance at Thorin, whose mouth was open and his ears bright red. 

Hearing a shout, Frerin turned back towards the field just in time to watch Amrie fall on the ground at the hands of solid-looking male hobbit. He growled and made a movement as if to jump over the fence, but Thorin grabbed his arm and shook his head. They both watched as Amrie yelled and whipped the end of her staff at the hobbit’s face. As he stumbled back, she vaulted herself up and thew herself against the hobbit. With sharp cracks and twirls the staffs hit each other, Amrie and the hobbit using offensive and defensive moves alternately. 

Finally, Amrie caught the opposing hobbit’s staff as it hit hers and used it to flip herself up and toward the hobbit. As she was falling, she hooked her legs around her opponent’s neck, neatly bringing him to the ground. She held the staffs against the hobbit’s neck and torso, chest heaving in controlled pants. Frerin’s jaw dropped. The hobbit looked stunned, and hesitantly tapped her leg. Sharply nodding, Amrie stood up and held out her hand to help the other hobbit up. They shook hands and stood apart from the rest of the sparring hobbits, watching. 

Frerin can’t keep his eyes off his magnificent One. His One was just so skilled in a way that he could never imagine any hobbits being skilled in! Her entire being seemed to glow and….. she was a child. And there was his stomach, revolting against Frerin’s attraction. Frerin bit back his wandering thoughts as he vaguely registers that Issenbras also triumphed in his spar and was standing with the growing group of hobbits. They all cheered as the last two sparring hobbits- Cress and Heather- his mind supplied helpfully, finished their spar with a tie. They shook hands like everyone else did, and then moved over to stand with the group. 

Frerin’s eyebrows shot up again at the sight of the hobbits running towards the tree line in response to the shout of an important-looking hobbit. They all leaped, grabbing branches and effortlessly swinging themselves up into the trees. After a few minutes, the hobbits jumped down and ran back to the middle of the field with an apple in their hands. They tossed the apples at the important hobbit’s feet and stood facing the targets. At the hobbit’s nod, they all drew their bows, holding several arrows apiece. 

Frerin’s eyebrows raised even higher as they smoothly shot at the targets several times without redrawing, most not missing the bulls-eye even though they held at least four or six arrows in one hand. They redrew and shot until there were no more arrows in their quivers. Then, they flicked out their daggers with a speed that would make the spymaster jealous, and started throwing them, many of them hitting the middle of the target with a dull thunk. 

After the hobbits pulled their arrows and daggers out of the targets, several- including Amrie and Issenbras- were called out to stand in front with their daggers. The apples were thrown at them, and they threw their daggers to hit the apples midair. The important-looking hobbit nodded thoughtfully, and then waved at the group, turning towards Amrie’s brother and a couple of other important-looking hobbits. 

After picking out, cleaning, and re-sheathing their daggers, Amrie and Issenbras ambled over to where Thorin and him were standing. Frerin gulped. Well shit, he thought, this isn’t helping me at all.

___________

“Well, Thorin, what do you think about us hobbits now? Think we’re fit to be called an army?” Issenbras teased. Amrie laughed at Thorin’s glare. She secretly thought that his and Frerin’s gobsmacked expressions were oddly cute and endearing. 

She quietly gave Cryfder a small piece of jerky that she kept in her pocket. Cryfder bumped her head against Amrie’s, and flew off with with the treat. Amrie rubbed her left ring finger and sighed, and turning towards Frerin, who was looking at her with a dreamy and slightly wistful expression. 

“Frerin?” She asked. His face twisted, and he gave her a dimmed smile. 

“Yes, Amrie?” She frowned resisted the urge to stamp her foot.

“What are you thinking?”

“Oh- oh! Well I’m just- I’m just thinking about how good you were in all those tests! Yeah! That’s what’m thinking haha.” Amrie narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but Frerin was saved from her questions by Uncle Didinas, Gerontius, and a couple of cousins that she recognized as Captains of different waves coming towards them. They stopped in front of her. 

“Hello, Amaryllis.”

“Hello, Uncle Didinas.” He looked her up and down. 

“Trying out to be a Bounder, ey? Just like your parents?”

“Yes sir.” 

“She’s too young,” snarled Gerontius. Uncle Didinas raised his eyebrow.

“Indeed? How old are you again?” Amrie gulped.

“Nine and twenty, sir”

“Twenty-nine!” One of the captains exclaimed. Amrie stared at her feet, bitting her lip. Uncle Didinas looked thoughtful. He placed a finger under Amrie’s chin, making her look up. His expression was gentle.

“I remember your parents, how they talked about your training, even at your young age. You are young, but you are extremely skilled. Tell me, do you have a Bounder’s bracer or will you need one made?”

“Uncle!”

“I have mama’s,” Amrie said blinking, interrupting Gerontuis. 

“Do you have it with you?” Amrie nodded, and reached down to grab it. Uncle Didinas fitted it on her arm, examining it carefully. He nodded.

“It fits well. Now, hold out your fingers straight,” he ordered. Then, he pushed the release switch, causing the hidden blade to snap out with a sharp nick. It only extended an inch past her fingers, coming in the space where her left ring finger was. “Do you know how it works?” He asked. 

“There is a switch on the back that you press that releases the blade. The spring pushes it out enough to put it in a small groove so there is no fear for the blade retracting without will. When you want to retract the blade, it screws back in.” Uncle Didinas nodded, looking pleased. 

“Correct, and as you know, your finger unfortunately gets in the way of the blade. You know how the Bounders initiate.” At Amrie’s nod, Uncle Didinas turned to one of the captains who handed him a bag. Inside it was a strip of leather, bandages, ointment, a surgical knife, and a gruesome-looking pair of cutters. Gerontius glared and stalked away, hands clenched into fists. Uncle Didinas turned back towards Amrie, his face deadly serious. “Amaryllis Took, do you swear to protect the Shire by any means necessary? Even if it costs you your life?” Amrie nodded and whispered, 

“I swear.” Uncle Didinas smiled crookedly, and grabbed the blade. Amrie swallowed, and asked, “May I do it?” Uncle Didinas’ and the other captains’ eyebrows rose, but Uncle Didinas nodded. 

With shaking hands, Amrie carefully cleaned the tools and her finger. Then biting on the piece of leather, she cut the skin around her finger, peeling it back to reveal the bone. She inhaled shakily, took the cutters, and snapped the bone off as close to her knuckle as she possibly could.

The pain felt like pure fire running through her veins. She felt her brow grow wet and tried desperately to not throw up. She had expected it, she knew that this was something that would done, but it still hurt. She shook and panted and felt tears from rolling down her face as she folded the skin over the bone to aid in healing. She began bandaging it, and as her shaking grew too much, Issenbras stepped in and finished wrapping her wound. When he was done he stepped back, pride shining in his eyes. Uncle Didinas smiled, and handed her a flask. Amrie uncorked it, sniffed at the contents, and wrinkled her noise, staring at him.

“Old enough to die, old enough to drink,” he said, shrugging and handing the instruments to one of the captains to clean. With that, he turned towards Issenbras. Amrie shrugged, uncorked the flask, and began chugging.

__________

Frerin had never felt so ill in his life. Watching Amrie cut off her own finger and listening to the bone snap would haunt his nightmares for weeks. He watched as Amrie chugged what was probably alcohol from the flask. Out of the corner of his eye, Frerin noticed Thorin pale and jerk as Issenbras went through the same ordeal. He waited until Amrie emptied the flask to ask his questions.

“Why would you do that.” Amrie hummed, swaying in place.

“You heard us- it’s initiation and it gets in the way of the bracer’s blade.” Amrie leaned against the fence and slid down until she was on the ground. She hummed some more. “I suppose- I suppose it’s also symbolic too. You see, hobbits wear rings on their fourth left finger when they get married. Bounders are expected to value their duty over everything, even their spouses and children.” By this time, Issenbras slumped down next to her, pale with a bandaged hand. He sloppily threw an arm around her shoulder.

“We did it, Amrie,” he muttered, tossing back his flask and leaning his weight on her. 

“Yes, and I beat you in the dagger-throwing.”

“It was a tie!” Issenbras whined from around his flask. 

“A tie my arse- don’t think I didn’t notice that you just barely grazed one of your apples.” Issenbras flopped over dramatically.

“Alright, alright! I’ll concede my barely- there defeat.”

“Arse.”

“Nit-picker.” 

“Blunderbuss.” Thorin looked at Frerin. 

“We need to take them home,” Thorin grumbled. Frerin nodded and shook Amrie’s arm.

“Amrie? Do you have somewhere to live in right now?” She rolled her head.

“Ya, ya I do. My smial,” she slurred slightly. Frerin huffed and was about to shake her again when in a swirl of wings, Cryfder came back. He sighed in relief and turned towards the raven.

“Can you show me where Amrie’s smial is?” He asked the bird. Cryfder bobbed her head, and slowly took off. Thorin and Frerin helped the two inebriated hobbits up from the ground. While Thorin managed to walk with Issenbras’ arm slung around Thorin’s shoulder, Amrie had to be carried. He looked at Thorin.

“Will you two be okay? You won’t get lost, will you?” Thorin scowled, his ears turning bright red. 

“I’ll be fine,” Thorin growled, shifting his arm around Issenbras’ waist. Frerin laughed, and started after Cryfder, who was waiting for him at the edge of the field. As he walked past the rolling green hills, following the raven, Frerin huffed and tried to ignore how good Amrie felt curled up against him. 

“Frerin?” Frerin hummed. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to your smial, so you can go to bed,” Frerin replied. 

“Huh, okay.” Frerin smiled, and continued to walk in silence. 

“Frerin?”

“Yes, Amrie?”

“Imma Bounder.” Frerin tried desperately not to laugh at how cute she was.

“I know, you did such a wonderful job today. I had no idea you could fight so well.” Amrie hummed.

“I’ve been training for it ever since I was born.” Frerin’s eyebrows raised, but he made no comment as a tiny smial came into view. Cryfder flew into an opened window. Frerin went to the door. It was locked.

“Amrie, do you have a key?”

“Under the mat.” She slurred. Frerin nodded and grabbed the key. He quickly unlocked the door and asked,

“Where is your bedroom?”

“Why, Frerin, if you wanted to do that you only had to ask.” Frerin spluttered.

“No, no, NO! That is NOT why I asked you, and you know it!” Amrie giggled and murmured,

“First door on your right.” Frerin huffed, and opened the door. He took off Amrie’s amour and carefully laid her on the bed, covering her with a quilt. She immediately curled up and mumbled,

“Night, night, Frey.” Frerin smiled and gently smoothed a lock of hair away from her face. 

“Good night,” he whispered, grinning as he headed to the kitchen. Filling a mug full of water, he carefully placed it on the table next to Amrie’s bed. He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, quietly making sure she wouldn’t throw up over herself. Finally pulling himself away, he left, carefully locking the smial behind him. As he walked back to the inn where Thorin and him were staying at, he couldn’t help but imagine her a bit older, living in Ered Luin along side him. 

Chapter Text

Frerin stood at the booth, and watched with some amusement as Issenbras stumbled and leaned against it. 

“Hungover?” Frerin teased. He laughed at the weak glare Issenbras thew at him. Issenbras winced and held his head. 

“Never again,” he moaned. 

“Agreed,” Amrie’s voiced echoed. Turning around, Frerin watched as Amrie started to stumble. He moved quickly and caught her, gently setting her upright. She muttered her thanks and rubbed her head, wincing at the sun. 

“Gods,” she hissed, grimacing. She turned towards the two dwarrow, “I was wondering if you two would like to come for dinner tonight. At my smial.”

“What about me?” Issenbras whined. Amrie rolled her eyes, and winced again.

“You too, Ffôl. I’ve invited all of our friends who passed the trials.” Issenbras gave a weak hurrah, and then laid down dramatically. Frerin laughed outright at the hobbit’s antics, Amrie gave a wan smile, and Thorin was smirking. Wait what?! Frerin narrowed his eyes at Thorin. Thorin, noticing Frerin’s attention, scowled and turned towards Amrie.

“Amaryllis, are you sure you need to have people over?” Amrie shook her head, groaned, and gave Thorin an annoyed look. 

“I’ll be fine, Thorin. My head doesn’t hurt as nearly as bad as it did when I woke up this morning. And I’ll be back to normal by this evening.” At Thorin’s skeptical nod, she continued, “Now I believe that Frerin knows where my smial is- so please excuse me, I need to finish shopping for dinner. It will be at six,” and with that, Amrie waved goodbye and went on her way. Issenbras sat himself up.

“Well, fellows, I’m going to go lie myself down so I can party tonight,” he muttered, rubbing his head. And with Frerin’s help, he got up and slightly stumbled down the street. The brothers watched him to make sure that he didn’t fall flat on his face. As Issenbras disappeared around a corner, Thorin turned towards Frerin. 

“Brother,” Thorin began, stopping and looking unsure. Frerin sighed.

“We are leaving soon.” Thorin nodded.

“We’ve stayed here for almost two weeks longer than expected. We have our duties and responsibilities at home. We are going to head out tomorrow.” At Frerin’s sorrowful face, Thorin sighed and slapped him on the back. “We will come back soon, brother. I am sure of it.” Frerin nodded and turned back towards the street. At least they would be able to say goodbye.

__________

Amrie rushed around, plating the last dishes and checking off the mental list in her head. Food? Check. Drinks? Mead, tea, and that new fancy bubbly water that Farmer Cotman swore came from Ered Nimrais. Was there enough seating? Check, Amrie had decided to have everyone sit in the sitting room, rather than at the tiny dining table. Cutlery? Check. Was she dressed nicely? She looked down at the simple brown skirt, white blouse, and yellow vest. Check. Amrie sighed, looked up the slightly darkening light outside. Seeing something from the corner of her eye, she twirled around and waved her hands at Cryfder. 

“Oi! Don’t eat the food! I’ve already given you your dinner!” Cryfder gave her a baleful look. “Don’t look at me like that, if you eat too much you won’t be able to fly!” A polite knock at the door interrupted her scolding. Pointing a quelling finger at the raven, she moved to open the door, revealing a smiling Issenbras, Shem, Ollie, and Tom. 

“Let’s party!” Cheered Tom as he stepped inside. Amrie rolled her eyes and quickly greeted them as they wiped their feet on the bristled mat. Issenbras leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

Quickly, the smial filled up with hobbits, all chattering and laughing. Most of them were discussing which group of the Bounders they would be put into. A heavy pounding knock echoed through the smial. Everyone stilled, and looked at Amrie. She walked to the door and pulled it open, smiling when she saw Thorin and Frerin. 

“Hello, hello!” Amrie said brightly, pulling the door open more. “Good evening, and please, come in!” They stepped in. Holding a hand out, Amrie stated, “Boots off please.” Frerin laughed, nodded amiably, and started pulling off his boots. Thorin glowered. 

“No.”

“Yes, you will, or so help me you can go back to your room at the Tuckborough Inn.” Thorin scowled. Amrie glared right back, hands on her hips. Issenbras laughed and slapped Thorin on the shoulder.

“You better listen to Amrie, dear fellow,” Issenbras advised. “You don’t want to miss her wolf stew.” Thorin scowled even darker but started to pull off his boots. Frerin chuckled and started greeting everyone in the smial. Soon the group started chattering again, and it was a very merry dinner party.

__________

Frerin sighed with contentment, letting out a puff of smoke and leaning back in his chair. Issenbras was right, the stew was very good. And while there wasn’t any ale, the mead and the tea Amrie had wasn’t bad at all. And their pipe-weed, he had found out early on, was also excellent. Issenbras gave him an unreadable look, and then smiled. 

“Frerin,” Issenbras asked around a puff of smoke, “Does your folk enjoy music?”

“Aye, we do. We especially enjoy tavern music.” Issenbras grinned. 

“Oi!” He yelled, effectively silencing the group. “I propose a spot of entertainment!” Amrie raised her eyebrows slightly and asked,

“Oh? And what form of entertainment would that be?”

“A singing competition!” There was silence for a few moments, then Tom let out a whoop and shot up. Everyone cheered. Frerin glanced over to Amrie, she was laughing and clapping her hands. Issenbras stood in his chair, and yelled, “Be quiet!” Everyone got quiet. “Now,” Issenbras began, “The competition goes like this, each person or group can take a turn singing. There cannot be any repeating songs. Whoever gets the loudest applause wins.” He pointed to Tom, “Since Tom here is standing up, he can sing first!” 

Everyone laughed and teased, and Tom grinned and motioned for Ollie to join him. Clearing his throat, Tom began;

"Oh you can search far and wide,
You can drink the whole town dry,
But you'll never find a beer so brown-”

“Oh you'll never find a beer so brown”- Ollie sang.

“As the one we drink in our hometown!” They sang together.
“You can drink your fancy ales,
You can drink them by the flagon,
But the only brew for the brave and true...
Comes from the Green Dragon!!” 

Everyone cheered as they clapped. Frerin laughed. This was going to be fun! Tom and Ollie bowed and sat down. Issenbras and Elm hopped up. Issenbras began stomping his foot.

“Hey Ho to the bottle I go,

To heal my heart and drown my woe

Rain may fall and wind may blow, but there'll still be

Many miles to go

Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,

And the stream that falls from hill to plain.

Better than rain or rippling brook-“

“Is a mug of beer inside this Took!” Issenbras yelled.

Everyone burst out into laughter and clapped their hands. Frerin noticed that even Thorin was laughing. Then, Ro and Shem stepped up. Ro took a deep breath and began;

“There’s….an…… inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn

beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man in the Moon himself came down

one night to drink his fill.”

“Oh… the ostler has a tipsy cat,” crooned Shem.

“that plays a five-stringed fiddle;

And up and down he saws his bow

Now squeaking high,” and there Shem held a truly amazing high note. Everyone cheered.

 “Now purring low,” Ro hit a low note, giving a bow. Issenbras let out a whistle.

Together they sang, “Now sawing in the middle.

So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,

a jig that would wake the dead:

He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,

While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:

‘It’s after three!’ he said.”

Everyone cheered and stamped their feet. Ro and Shem bowed dramatically, making everyone laugh. Bri, Dahalia, and Heather all stood up next. Heather began in a sweet, high voice;

“There will come a soldier

Who carries a mighty sword

He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord.” The other girls joined in,

“O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord

He will tear your city down, o lei o lai o lord.” Bri stepped slightly forward,

“There will come a healer

Whose weapon is his word

He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai o lord.”

“O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord. 

He will slay you with his tongue, o lei o lai o lord.” Dahalia hopped forward.

“There will come a ruler

Whose brow is laid in thorn

Smeared with oil like Isildur's boy, o lei o lai o lord.”

“O lei, o lai, o lei, o lord

Smeared with oil like Isildur's boy, o lei o lai o lord

O lei, o lai, o lei, oH lord!

He will tear your city down, o lei o lai, o

O lei o lai, o lei, o lai, o

O lei o lai, o lei, o lai, o

O lei o lai, o lei, o lai, o lei, o lai, o.”

Frerin raised his eyebrows and blinked. All the hobbits were clapping politely. Amrie, noticing his confusion, leaned over. “It’s a traditional hobbit song,” she whispered. “It’s supposed to be about the next Age.” Frerin’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded. Then Frerin stood up. Everyone grew quiet. Frerin cleared his throat.

“This is a song about Khazad-dûm and Durin, our ancestor.” He shuffled his feet, and looked at Amrie. She gave him a thumbs up and a grin. Taking a breath and gathering his courage, he let out the first note of the song;

“The king he was, on carven throne.

In many-pillared halls of stone.

With golden roof, and silver floor.

And runes of power upon the door.

The light of sun, and star and moon.

In shining lamps of crystal hewn.

Undimmed by cloud, or shade of night.

They shone for ever, fair and wide.

The world is grey, the mountains old.

The forge's fire is ashen-cold.

No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:

The darkness dwells in Durin's halls.

The shadow lies upon his tomb.

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.

But still, the sunken stars appear.

In dark and windless Mirrormere.

There lies his crown in water deep.

‘Till Durin wakes again from sleep.”

Complete silence met the last note of Frerin’s song. He felt a rush of disappointment, and looked at Amrie. She looked speechless. 

“Yavanna’s ears,” she breathed, standing up and clapping. The other hobbits joined her tentatively, eyes wide. Frerin bowed, and quickly sat down. Amrie reached over and squeezed his hand. “How come you never told me that you could sing so well?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Frerin couldn’t help but bite out. “My song wasn’t good enough.” Amrie gripped his hand.

“It was good enough,” she insisted fiercely. “You and your people do matter.” Frerin felt his eyes burn. Blinking rapidly, he watched as Clove and Cress stood up. 

“Why are there so many, songs about rainbows?” Cress crooned.

“And whats on the other side?

Rainbows are visions, but only illusions.

And rainbows have nothing to hide.

So we've been told and some choose to believe it.

I know they’re wrong, wait and see.

Someday we'll find it,

The rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me.” Clove moved forward,

“Who said that every wish

Would be heard and answered

And wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of it,

And someone believed it.

And look what it’s done so far.

What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing?

What do we think we might see.

Someday we'll find it,

The rainbow connection.

The lovers, the dreamers, and me."

“All of us, under its spell.” Belted Cress,

We know that it's probably magic.” Together they harmonized,

“Have you been half-asleep?

And have you heard voices?

I've heard them calling my name.

Is this the sweet sound,

To call the young sailors?

The voice might be one and the same.”

“I've heard it too many times to ignore it,” sang Cress alone.

“Its something that I'm s'posed to be…

Someday we'll find it.”

“The rainbow connection.” Sang Clove. And together they harmonized,

“The lovers, the dreamers, and me.”

At the end of the song, the hobbits clapped softly. Frerin felt a longing, deep in his soul. He exhaled noisily. The two bowed and curtsied, and sat down. Amrie stood up and motioned Issenbras to join her. Frerin and Thorin both sat up. Frerin glued his eyes on Amrie, who closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I….. wanna run.

Where no one else can follow me.”

Find a calm, from the wreckage,

And the danger of this swelling sea.

I'm just a girl,

From dust I came and I'll return.

So please, don’t spare your mercy.

I need your love at every turn.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time my heart, beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time my heart beats.” Amrie began clapping.

“I…. wanna go,

Where they tell me it's impossible.

Fan the flame, and walk on the water.

I got Heaven locked up in these bones.

Oh, I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time my heart, beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every. Time. My. Heart. Beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time my heart, beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every. Time. My. Heart. Beats.”  Issenbras moved up and began lowly,  

“I. Feel it coursing through my veins, like fire.

And I, feel you coursing through my veins, like fire.

I feel it coursing through my veins, like fire

And I, feel you coursing through my veins, like fire.”

“Oh, I feel it when my heart beats,” Amrie belted.

“Every time my heart, beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every. Time. My. Heart. Beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time my heart, beats.

I feel it when my heart beats.

Every time, yeah every time.

Oh, I'm just a girl.

From dust I came and I'll return.

So please, don't spare your mercy.

I need your love at every turn.”

Amrie opened her eyes and smiled shyly at all the whistles and cheers and the smattering of hands. Issenbras bowed and she sketched a quick curtsey, and sat down hiding her blushing face with her hands. Frerin grabbed one of her hands and laughed, exclaiming,

“And you thought I was good! You’re amazing!” Amrie blushed even more, but squeezed his hand gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered shyly as Issenbras pulled Thorin up. Thorin glared at Issenbras, but he opened his mouth to sing. In a low baritone, he sang;

“Far over, the misty mountains cold.

To dungeons deep, and caverns old.

We must away, ere break of day.

To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring, on the height.

The winds were moaning, in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread.

The trees like torches blazed with light.”

“Wow,” Issenbras breathed, clapping his hands loudly together. Amrie and Frerin joined him. The other hobbits clapped tentatively. As the applause awkwardly died down, Ro stood up and stated, 

“Now, despite all the amazing singers, I think it's obvious who won this singing competition. Congratulations, Amrie and Issenbras!” Everyone cheered and gave their congratulations, laughing when Amrie hid her scarlet face again. Then everyone stood up to search for more food. Amrie leaned towards Frerin. 

“Come,” she murmured, holding out her hand. Frerin's eyebrows shot up but he took it, and Amrie lead him outside into the small garden. 

__________

Amrie sighed as a soft breeze touched her face. She heard Frerin let out a sigh too. Turning slightly towards him, she saw the questioning look on his face. She motioned to the sky,

“The stars are bright tonight. I thought- I thought you might want to look at them with me.” Frerin nodded. Amrie hesitated. There were a couple oliphunts in the room that she could ask about, but she decided to chose the least problematic one first. “What was Thorin’s song about?” Frerin’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes grew sad.

“It was about our home- Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. And how forty-nine years ago Smaug the dragon descended onto it and drove us out. Many of my people and humans from Dale died.” Amrie’s eye’s shimmered. She took Frerin’s hand and held it in between hers.

“I’m sorry,” she began softly, squeezing his hand. She continued strongly, “But I do believe that one day, you will see your mountain again.” Frerin stared at her for a long moment. Just as Amrie was about to apologize, Frerin let out a shaky breath and covered their hands with his other big hand. He softly squeezed her smaller hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Amrie blushed, but nodded. She looked in Frerin’s eyes. Where they always that blue?, she privately wondered. She shook herself from those thoughts and cleared her throat and asked;

“What has gotten you so down tonight?” Frerin’s face fell even further.

“Thorin and I have to leave tomorrow.” Oh, Amrie breathed out. She felt numb. For the short amount of time Frerin and Thorin had been with their group, they already felt like a vital part of it. She shook her head, and gave his hands a hard squeeze, causing him to look at her.

“You’ll write to us, won’t you? Perhaps visit us again?” 

“Of course I will write. And I will try my hardest to visit again.” Amrie nodded.

“Then there is no need to be sad. We will still be friends, and we can still converse through letters. I will miss you both, but if we both try to see each other again we eventually will,” she stated smiling as she squeezed Frerin hands before she slipped them out of his grasp. She turned her face towards the sky and the twinkling lights. “Let’s look at the stars.”

And look at the stars they did.

Chapter Text

Frerin’s watched as the blurry green hills of the Shire slowly passed by. Thorin had insisted on leaving at sunrise, so the sun was just starting to brighten the area around them. Frerin blinked his eyes hard and looked at Thorin. To his surprise, Thorin’s eyes were just as red as his probably were. 

“I don’t want to leave her,” Frerin blurted out. Thorin’s face twisted.

“I know, Nadadith, I know.”

“What kind of dwarf am I, leaving my One’s side?” Frerin continued miserably. “I should be by her side! I shouldn’t be leaving!” 

“I know.” They rode in silence after that, and Frerin valiantly tried blinking away the constant prickling from his eyes. They had almost made it to Three Farthing Stone when they heard, 

“HEY!”

“WAIT!” Turning his head, Frerin stopped his pony and leaped off as soon as he saw who was running towards them. Running to meet Amrie in the middle, he paused and let her catch her breath. Issenbras’ face was bright red. 

“Amrie… What are you and Issenbras doing here?”

“We wanted to wish you both safe travels,” Amrie said, still slightly panting. Frerin stared at her for a moment, and then took a step forward and threw his arms around her. Amrie wrapped her arms around Frerin and buried her face in his chest. “Safe travels, Frerin,” she whispered, her voice muffled by his chest. “Come back.” Frerin swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I will come back,” he said lowly. “I swear it.” Amrie pulled back slightly, and looked Frerin in the eyes seriously. After she apparently saw whatever she was looking for, she nodded, and buried her face in Frerin’s chest again. Frerin closed his eyes and placed his cheek on the side of her head. They stayed that way for a while, until Thorin cleared his throat. They both pulled themselves back, Amrie wiping her eyes. She gave Frerin a watery smile, and then turned to Thorin. Issenbras walked up and shook Frerin’s hand, his eyes red-rimmed. 

“I gave Thorin the basket of meat pies for the both of you. And if you ever need a place to stay, I’m planning on build my own smial soon, so let me know.” Frerin nodded. 

“I will, thank you.” Issenbras hesitated, but said quietly,

“Be kind to Amrie- she’s been through a lot.” Frerin furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed-“ he was interrupted by Amrie coming up beside Issenbras. Frerin pressed his lips together.

“Thorin says that you both need to leave, if you’re going to reach Bree by nightfall,” Amrie said softly. Frerin rolled his eyes, but nodded sadly. Both of the dwarfs mounted their ponies again, and slowly started down the road again. Frerin kept himself turned around, and waved to the Amrie and Issenbras until they were out of sight. He tried to stop the tears from running down into his beard and gave a miserable sigh. He missed his tiny One already.

__________

Amrie lowered her hand and sighed as Frerin’s pony faded from view. She and Issenbras slowly turned back and started walking back to Tuckborough. Issenbras slung an arm around her shoulders.  

“Cheer up Amrie, they will come back.” Amrie paused and looked at him.

“How do you know?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You just gotta have faith in some things.” They walked in silence for a bit, and then,

“So…. Did you give Thorin a kiss goodbye? Tell him you have starry eyes for him?”

“Amrie!” She laughed.

“I’m just asking!”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Amaryllis!” Cried Issenbras, flushing. She laughed even harder and patted his arm, letting it go. Issenbras gave her an evil side-eye, but said nothing. They strolled back quietly, the silence only interrupted by the birds singing. As they neared the outskirts of town, Amrie looked up and noticed a blond hobbit standing by the road with two children. As they drew closer, Amrie’s heart stopped as she realized it was Adamanta. Amrie let go of Issenbras’ hand and blinked.

“Addy?” Adamanta turned, her face lighting up in recognition. The children cried and launched themselves into Amrie’s arms. Kneeling down, she wrapped her arms around them, eyes burning. She looked up at Adamanta. “But…. What…. Why..??” Adamanta laughed and shook her head. 

“I told you I supported you.” Amrie shook her head, dumbfounded. 

“But Gerontius…”

“Gerontius may be my husband, but that doesn’t mean I am not my own person.”

“You’ll get in trouble…”

“Gerontius won’t know, he thinks I am visiting mama. And we are but, let’s just say we made a detour.” Amrie laughed wetly, and stood up, gently squeezing Adamanta. She sobbed out,

“Diolch, diolch yn fawr iawn.”

“Bydded i'r wraig werdd eich bendithio, chwaer annwyl,” Adamanta whispered. Amrie hugged her again, and then knelt down to be at eye level with Isengrim and little Belladonna. She hugged them desperately, wiping their eyes, and whispered in their ears,

“ Rwy'n dy garu di.”

“Rydyn ni'n dy garu di, modryb,” they chorused. Amrie pulled herself back, and grabbed Issenbras’ hand as she said goodbye. Adamanta gave her a nod, and taking the children’s hands, walked away. Amrie wiped her eyes. She felt Issenbras eyes on her. She let out a breath.

“Let’s go home,” She said simply.

Chapter Text

To Prince Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror in Ered Luin:

You are formally invited to:

Amaryllis Rose Took’s

Thirty-third birthday party

On the first of March, year 2799 of the Third Year

(Please rsvp before the thirty-first of January, or else bring your own seating and food)

I hope you and Thorin can come!- Amrie

Chapter Text

Tuckborough, the Shire. Year 2797 of the Third Age.

“Frerin, it will be okay! You’ll figure something out-“

“No, Amrie! It won’t be okay!,” Frerin yelled, waving his hands. 

“IT WILL!”

“IT WON’T! You don’t know anything, you’re just a hobbit! You don’t understand anything!” Amrie stiffened. She clenched her fists.

“I would understand if you didn’t try to ignore your feelings and JUST TALK TO ME,” she screamed. Frerin clenched his jaw.

“Go away, Amrie.”

“What-“

“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT AMARYLLIS TOOK! I don’t want to see you!” Amrie gasped and her eyes shimmered. She spun around and BANG! The door slammed shut. Frerin covered his face with his hands. 

The long, stagnant, silence was broken by the sound of feet padding against the floor. Frerin felt a hand grip his shoulder. He looked up, and narrowly stopped himself from recoiling at a somber Issenbras. 

“That was cruel, Frerin,” Issenbras stated. Frerin’s shoulders slumped.

“I know.”

“I understand that what your family wrote has upset you, but Amrie was just trying to help. She was just trying to be a friend.” Frerin rubbed his forehead.

“I know; I-I didn’t mean to say all that to her…” Issenbras interrupted Frerin with a squeeze on his shoulder.

“I know, Frerin. And deep down, Amrie knows that too. But just because she knows it, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t still apologize.” Frerin bowed his head.

“I know, and I want to, I-I just don’t know how.” Another squeeze on his shoulder caused Frerin to look up. Issenbras was smiling.

“Well, to start, I would actually say ‘I’m sorry,’” Issenbras began cheekily. He stumbled slightly at Frerin’s lighthearted shove. They both glared at each other. Frerin threw up his hands.

“Alright! I’m sorry, now what else would you advise?” Issenbras glared at him for a moment longer, and then smirked.

“I would also do something- actions speak louder than words you know.” Frerin tilted his head.

“Do something?”

“Yeah, like my dad gives my mom flowers, or fixes tea, or gets her something nice after they have an argument.”

“Hm.” 

“Just don’t be over excessive”- Issenbras wrung his hands- “You don’t have to buy out entire stalls, just get her a couple of meaningful things.” Frerin raised an eyebrow.

“Who says that I would be excessive?” Issenbras shifted, raising an eyebrow himself and put his hands on his hips.

“Frerin, you and Thorin have showered us with throwing daggers ever since you meet us two years ago. You both could be the definition of excessive.” 

“Hm.”

__________

Frerin carefully balanced the tray as he walked towards the training field. He carefully it down on the fence post and walked towards Amrie’s figure.

THUNK.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” Amrie bit out. Frerin winced.

THUNK.

“I’m sorry.” Amrie paused and turned slightly. She quirked an eyebrow.

“Sorry for what you said? Or sorry for the way you said it?”

THUNK.

“For everything- I should have never talked to you like that, and I definitely shouldn’t have said what I said.” Amrie spun around. Her eyes were red-rimmed.  

“You hurt my feelings,” she stated bluntly. Frerin bit his lip.

“I’m so sorry, Amrie.” Amrie sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

“I’m sorry too, I should’ve noticed that I was crossing a line-“ 

“No,” Frerin said, shaking his head. “I know you were just trying to help. You don’t need to apologize for trying to be my friend.” Silence. Frerin waved his hand towards the tray. “I made you tea,” he blurted out. “I really am so sorry-“

“Did you make me apology tea? Apolo-tea?” Amrie cut in, looking amused. Frerin nodded. Amrie’s mouth twisted. She turned slightly away and covered her mouth with a hand. She snorted, and all of their tension melted away. They both laughed. 

After a moment, Amrie stood up and walked over to Frerin, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. He grabbed her hand.

“How about we both agree that we were both in the wrong, and move on?” Frerin smiled.

“Deal.” Amrie grinned.

“Deal.”

__________

Ered Luin. Year 2799 of the Third Age.

Frerin leaned back in his chair, rubbed his forehead, and sighed. The council members were being their usual difficult selves. Usual difficult selves meaning that they were disagreeing with every little thing unless it profited them, twisting others’ words, and stabbing backs. Recently, they had been feeding Ugmil’adad with ideas of reclaiming mountains with more prosperous mines. Prosperous meaning more gold. It was concerning. 

Frerin pulled a chain with a key out of hiding and unlocked a drawer in his desk. He carefully pulled out a stack of letters tied with a green ribbon. He pulled out Amrie’s most recent letter, and reread it. 

__________

Four years had passed since they first meet. Their friendship was strong, tested by distance but maintained through letters. Letters containing pretty stones, dried flowers, recipes, cultural information, humor, gossip, songs, and random discussions.

Even with the letters, Frerin made it a point to visit the Shire at least once every year. He would spend anywhere from a couple of weeks, to a couple of months (like last year). And every time he visited, Amrie would launch herself into Frerin’s arms and give him a big hug and a bright smile. Then she would drag him along any adventure that came up (not that Frerin minded).

Unfortunately for Issenbras, Thorin being a prince and second in line for the throne, was unable to come for any of the trips. Frerin knew that the two wrote to each other, but to what extent he did not know. After two years had passed and Issenbras came of age, Frerin thought that Thorin would have started their courtship. But now, it was two years past Issenbras’ majority and many times Frerin wondered why Thorin still refused to chose his One. He felt rather sorry for the both of them.

__________

After locking the letters back in their drawer and hiding the key, Frerin walked over to the small chest at the foot of his bed and opened it, checking the contents to make sure everything was perfect. This was the year. Amrie was going to be of age. Unbidden, a memory unfolded.

__________

Tuckborough, the Shire. Year 2798 of the Third Age.

Amrie and Frerin were strolling down a dirt road, the sun beaming on them, when they stopped to stare at the blurred outlines of the Blue Mountains on the horizon. A gentle breeze swept the tall grasses and cooled their faces. 

“I think,” said Amrie, pointing towards the mountains, “That the land o’ dreams is always just on the horizon. I wish I could easily go there.”

“Do you have any unfulfilled dreams, Amrie?” Frerin asked. Amrie blinked.

“Well of course I do, I think life would be worthless if all our dreams were fulfilled by a snap of our fingers. It’s a just part of life, toiling towards a dream.”

“So what do you dream for?” Amrie turned towards him slightly.

“You’ll laugh,” Amrie warned.

“I won’t.”

“You will, it’s rather silly.”

“I swear on my beard, I won’t.” Amrie hesitated.

“Okay, here’s my dream: a pink silk dress.” Frerin blinked.

“That’s an interesting dream,” he said carefully. Amrie snorted, then her eyes grew distant.

“When I was a girl, Papa used to call me his little flower princess.” She swallowed and continued, “He told me that for my coming of age, that he would buy me a pink silk dress. He said that I deserved to dress like a real princess at least once in my life. That’s why owning a pink silk dress is my dream.” Frerin’s eyes were soft as he gently lifted his hand and brushed a lock of hair from Amrie’s eyes. 

“Then it is a good dream,” he said softly. Amrie nodded, and then looked at him expectantly.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Frerin teased. Amrie huffed and swatted his shoulder.

“You know! What are your dreams?” You…. Arose a thought unhelpfully. Frerin squashed it.

“I dream of living in Erebor again. The halls filled with a bright light….” He trailed off. Amrie watched him with bright, thoughtful eyes. She squeezed Frerin’s arm.

“When the time comes, I will help you reclaim your mountain,” she promised. Frerin laughed wryly and shook his head, taking her hand and swinging it playfully in between them both. Amrie laughed too, and then used his hand to pull him towards Farmer Toman’s strawberry patch.

__________

Ered Luin. Year 2799 of the Third Age. 

Rubbing the soft, slippery fabric in between his fingers, Frerin sighed hopefully. He hoped from the bottom of his heart that Amrie would like it. He had scrimped and hoarded every coin that came his way, just so that it could be made. Closing the chest, he stood up and walked out of his room. Soon he would be in the Shire again with his tiny One.

Chapter Text

Fall of 2795, the Third Age. Ered Luin.

‘Dear Amrie,

I wanted to let you know that Thorin and I have arrived safely in Ered Luin. Our family was overjoyed to have us return, especially my father. 

We got to met our first nephew, Filli. He is precious to all of us, a beloved treasure. You would adore him. He is a such a serious babe, until you tickle his feet or feed him. My sister Dis and her husband, Villi, are overly proud of their son. I must admit that the money that we have earned will go a long way in making sure that my sister and her son are clothed and well-fed, So I must thank you for bringing people to our booth. I hope you hand has healed well, and that you are in good health. 

May Mahal bless the works of your hands and keep your hearth-fire lit.

Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror’

__________

First day of Winter, 2795, the Third Age. Tuckborough, the Shire.

‘Dear Frerin,

Thank you kindly for your letter. It eases Issenbras’ and my hearts to know that you and Thorin are safely at home. My hand is completely healed now, and I am in excellent health. I hope you are the same. 

Uncle Didinas and Thain Gerontius have been sending more bounders out lately, they constantly fear about another Long Winter. They have placed Issenbras and me in the First wave of the Bounders. It is known for having the most skilled Bounders. And while we are honored, it is also the most dangerous group to be in since the First wave is literally the first to go out and fight (My parents were the First wave). But so far, the only thing that has been dangerous is our boredom. Timothy Grubb almost cut off Issenbras’s ear while they were sparring during a patrol, and poor Elm slipped out of a tree and fell flat on his back. I have taken up tatting lace again, since it is silent and can easily be stored away if anything happens on a patrol.

Most hobbits have started decorating for Yule, myself included. The markets are bustling with hobbits buying food, decorations, and presents.The candles and cookies in the trees, the garlands, the sweet and spicy smells, and hot cider are some of the most wonderful things in the the world, I believe. Issenbras’ parents are holding the annual Yule party at their smial, which everyone is excited about. Do dwarrow celebrate Yule? If so, how do you celebrate it?

Everyone sends their congratulations for your new nephew. A child is a blessing, whether it is your first or your fifteenth. If I may ask, what does your family look like? Is Dis a blond like you, or does she have dark hair like Thorin? Is she older or younger? What about Filli, your father, your brother-in-law? I am afraid you have me at quite a disadvantage! 

I hope you will forgive me for being nosey, but why hasn’t Thorin written? Poor Issenbras looks like he is wilting. It’s actually rather sad how he goes to the postmaster and looks for a letter from your brother. If this continues any longer, I am going to be seriously tempted to write a letter declaring feelings of love and sign Issenbras’ name on it.

I am sending with this letter some of my teas and some coins so that you buy yourself a Yule gift from me. I would send presents, but I am afraid that they would be lost/stolen before they reached you.

The post leaves soon, so I will close this letter. The Green Lady’s blessing upon you and your family.

Amaryllis Took

P.s. The reason why people came to your booth was because of your craftsmanship and the fact that you didn’t scowl at everyone and act high and mighty, and don’t you forget it!’

__________

Late Winter of 2795, the Third Age. Ered Luin.

‘Dear Amrie,

Thorin and Dis have stolen your letter from me after I laughed out loud at the thought of you writing a letter of that nature in Issenbras’ name. Thorin nearly fell over and has now been storming around our hall for the last couple of days. Dis thinks that you’re a woman after her own heart and is determined to become your friend. I would expect letters from them both soon.

Dwarrow do not celebrate Yule as it seems you hobbits and men do- our closest holiday would be Forge Day Fest, which ends the winter. Our smiths are required to make a large and exquisite item as a tribute to our maker, Mahal. We also have Durin’s day, the dwarven new year, but it is in the fall, rather than the winter. But I must admit I’m curious and ask- what is hot cider?

Dis is mine and Thorin’s younger sister. I am her senior by seven years. She looks like she could be Thorin’s twin, and when times arise she does pretend that she is him. Villi is a Firebeard, he is a little shorter than Thorin and much sturdier. Filli has inherited his blond hair, and Dis’ blue eyes and the Durin nose. My father also looks like Thorin, but he is shorter too and has a much bigger nose and silver hair. He also has an inking of a mountain across the bridge of his nose. My family of three children is considered to be a large family for dwarrow- so I have to ask, fifteen children?? You must be joking.

I will not lie and say that I am worried concerned about the thought of you being on the front, but I won’t discourage you. You have the skills to make our best warriors ask to be your apprentice. I just ask Please be careful. I myself have been joining the hunting groups all winter, and we brought down a big boar during our most recent hunt that was taller than you! 

My cousin Balin, my siblings and I enjoyed your teas very much. I used the coins that you sent to buy the supplies for your’s and Issenbras’ presents. I do hope that they weren’t lost. 

May Mahal bless the works of your hands and keep your hearth-fire lit.

Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror’

__________

 Late Winter of 2795, the Third Age. Ered Luin.

‘Miss Amaryllis Took,

You will NOT be writing a letter in Issenbras’ name of any nature. I have written to him so you can stop your infantile games. 

Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror’

__________

Late Winter of 2795, the Third Age. Ered Luin.

‘Dear Miss Took,

We do not know each other, except through others. I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, sister to Thorin and Frerin, Princess of Erebor, Lady of Ered Luin. 

I first wanted to thank you for your heart-felt congratulations for my son. He is the pride of mine and my husband’s hearts. He has been growing so fast. 

I would also like to complement you on your tea blends, they were absolutely delightful. Did you blend them yourself?

I must ask for all the details of your relationship with my brothers- how did you meet them? Where they especially stupid? Who is Issenbras, and what connection does he have with my older brother? It sounds like an interesting story, I can’t wait to read it. 

My Filli is crying, so I will close this letter. I hope to receive a reply soon.

May Mahal bless the works of your hands and keep your hearth-fires lit.

Dis, daughter of Thrain, Lady of Ered Luin’

__________

First day of Spring, 2796, the Third Age. Tuckborough, the Shire

‘Dear Frerin,

Never having had hot cider is a sin upon our Lord Eru and must be fixed immediately. I will personally make you cup whenever you visit.

I must admit that I am rather annoyed with you, Prince Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. For the almost three weeks you and your brother spent with us, apparently neither of you two could be bothered with informing us that you were princes. You high-ass-ness. Thankfully, your sister has no such claims to withholding such important information. 

Your boar sounds… awe-inspiring, to say the least. I think I would cry in fear at such a creature. I’ll keep to rabbits for hunting, thank you very much. 

Issenbras and I wish to thank you for the lovely Yule presents. We are both the most well-equipped hobbits in the Shire in regards to throwing daggers. All of our fellow First waves are just green with envy. When you come back to the Shire do make sure that you have plenty of daggers to sell.

Everything with the Bounders has been going well, we have had no action on our borders this winter. Thankfully, it did not snow like it did during the Long Winter, which has a large part in the near inaction we had. Cryfder often joins me on patrols now that it is warmer, and when she’s not sitting on my shoulder she is dive-bombing the other poor Bounders. I’ve had to stop them from shooting her more times than I would like to tell.

I have included Thorin’s letter in this one to read for your amusement. Please let him and Dis know that I have written letters for the both them, and have sent them through the post. 

Speaking about families; yes, one of the Roper families did have fifteen children (Cress is one of them). I will admit, that fifteen is considered a large family for us too. Most hobbit families have around four to eight children. 

Spring time is here, and the Shire is bursting with color. Soon we will have the Flower Festival, where many a courtship has started. You should tell Thorin about it. Maybe then he will get off his arse and court my cousin.

We all miss you and Thorin. Please come visit soon.

The Green Lady’s blessing on you and your family.

Amrie

P.s. You make me blush with your compliments of my fighting skills…. Don’t be shy, my ego could use a boost.’

__________

Spring of 2796, the Third Age. Ered Luin.

‘I’m going to kill him. 

I do hope you have that hot cider on hand, because I am coming down for a visit. Thorin unfortunately cannot come this time because his duties do not allow him to leave. Besides the fact that I will kill him for being such an ass, which I apologize for. 

I do not apologize for, however, not telling you that I am a prince- you hobbits don’t have royalty and I thought that sharing that information would make me look “high and and mighty” as you so delightfully put it. 

I should be in the Shire by the first day of summer.

May Mahal bless the works of your hands and keep your hearth-fire lit.

With all my love, Frerin

P.s. You make me laugh harder than I’ve ever done reading letters. Please never change.’

Chapter Text

Amrie shifted again on the branch for the twenty-th time. Issenbras signed. 

“Amrie, they will be here soon- so please for the love of Yavanna and everything that grows STOP FIDGETING.” Cryfder bobbed her head up and down. Amrie face twisted, annoyance and amusement running across her face. She opened her mouth to retort back, when a voice calling both of their names interrupted her. Amrie’s face lit up, and she shrieked with delight as she launched herself forward into Frerin’s laughing arms. Cryfder let out an indigent squawk and flew off. 

Amrie rammed poor Frerin so hard that he almost fell out of the cart’s seat. Frerin just chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her, murmuring how he missed her. 

Issenbras jumped down from his perch and walked up to Thorin, who was holding the reins of his pony and staring at the two in the cart. He bowed and said;

“Thorin, it is wonderful to see you in the Shire again. We have missed you when Frerin visited.” Thorin started and gave a short bow of his own.

“Well-met, Master Took,” he said, turning back to stare at his brother and Amrie, who were now chattering rapidly. Issenbras rolled his eyes. 

“If you’re wondering if they are always like that,” he said dryly, “the answer is yes. It’s a pretty well-known fact that whenever Frerin visits the Shire wherever one is, the other will be there too. Or at least close by.” Thorin turned, his startled expression shifting to a neutral one. 

“I see.” Frerin hopped down from the cart and lifted her out, hands firmly on her waist. Then they walked up to where Thorin and Issenbras were standing. Amrie stepped forward, giving Thorin a gentle squeeze. “Miss Amaryllis.” She pulled back and gave him an impish grin.

“Prince Thorin, we’ve missed you terribly.” Issenbras watched as Thorin rolled his eyes, and then launched into a good-natured argument with Amrie. Frerin came up, and slapped him on the back. They both watched with smirks as Thorin quickly lost ground in the argument.

After it seemed like the argument was winding down, Issenbras suggested that he should show Thorin where his smial was, and get the two dwarrow settled. The suggestion was agreed with whole-heartedly, and the small group continued down the dirt road.

__________

Amrie stood in front of the mirror looking at her appearance in the reflection. She wore a simple cotton light green dress, and hidden under one of the sleeves was her ever-present bracer. Her hair, now long again, was twisted up on top of her head with mama’s combs. She somberly studied herself. She was thirty-three now, officially an adult. Old enough to handle her own affairs, old enough to begin courting.

Thinking about courting, she thought of Frerin and blushed. She had figured out last year that Frerin was her Heart, but how could she tell such a thing to him? Especially since Frerin had shown no signs of her being his One. She sighed. Frerin, she knew, was planning on staying for several months again while Thorin was planning on leaving a couple of days after the party. It would be interesting to see whether she would crack and blurt out just how much Frerin meant to her.

Thinking of Thorin, she sighed again. It was ridiculous how Thorin and Issenbras danced around their feeling for each other. The last couple of days she watched almost painfully as the two denied their feelings for each other when they clearly where attracted to each other. Amrie was seriously wondering if she should lock them in a closet together, her death be damned.

Hearing a knock at the door, and Aunt Lavender calling her name, Amrie shook the thoughts from her head and squared her shoulders. 

“Alright, Amaryllis,” she told herself, “hop on it my girl.” And with that, she walked towards the door and swung it open.

__________

Frerin sighed, leaning back in his chair. He watched idly as the other hobbits around him were feasting and laughing and talking. He scanned the crowd, noticing that Thorin was in a conversation with Amrie’s Uncle, who was also Head Captain of the Bounders. His leg bounced underneath the table. Suddenly, the crowd grew silent.

Looking towards Amrie’s smial, Frerin watched Amrie walk arm in arm with her Aunt Lavender. She wore a light green dress that made her eyes look even greener. Mahal, she’s beautiful… The party started up again as she stopped at every group, giving them hugs and chatting a bit. Finally, she came up to Frerin.

“Frey,” she chirped happily, giving him a big hug. Frerin wrapped his arms around her slim waist.

“Happy birthday, Amrie.” Amrie shyly smiled, whispering a thank you and stepped back. Then she laughed merrily and grabbed Frerin's hand to pull him towards the food tents.

__________

Amrie slowly sipped her mug of ale. She refused to repeat when she had happened when she was initiated into the Bounders. As quickly as she had gotten over her hangover, Amrie did not want to go through that experience again. Suddenly, Issenbras, Ro, Tom, and Elm swirled around her, lifting her unto a table. Amrie pretended to protest, but smoothed her skirt as the field was filled with the sounds of clamoring for a speech. 

“My dear family, the Tooks!” A cheer went up. “My friends, the Brandybucks, the Chubbs, the Bolgers, the Proudfoots, the Ropers, and the dwarrow of Ered Luin!” A louder cheer went up. Amrie smiled and let the noise die down. “My people, today is my third and thirty birthday! I am thirty-three today, now at my coming of age!” Everyone roared, hammered at the table, clapped, and said, “Many happy returns!” Amrie gave a half-smile, took a deep breath, and continued, “I thank all of you for coming to celebrate with me tonight, and I would especially like to thank my parents, who could not be here tonight, for making me the hobbit that I am today. I would also like to thank my cousin Issenbrass, and my dearest friend Frerin.” She swallowed and clenched her hands together tightly. “Thank you, for being my friends and always standing by my side. You both have been the family I lost so long ago, and I could not image life without you.” The field was silent, and Issenbras and Frerin both raised their mugs towards her. Amrie gave them a slightly watery smile, and ended her speech nicely with,“I thank you again for celebrating with me, and please enjoy yourself!” There was an uncomfortable cheer, some scattered clapping and Amrie curtsied and hopped down from the table. Issenbras came up to her, and gave her a hug. They talked for a moment, and then walked towards Frerin.  

She held out her hand to him.

“Will you dance with me, please?” She asked. Frerin quickly stood up, and took her hand. Amrie then pulled the two of them in the middle of the circle of dancing hobbits.

__________

Frerin and Amrie quietly swayed to the music, their arms lightly wrapped around each other. They had already danced several songs with each other, and had slowly drifted towards the edge of the party. The lanterns hanging in the trees glowed, incasing the two in a soft, golden light. 

Amrie’s eyes seemed to glow as she looked up at Frerin, smiling sweetly and humming softly along with the music. Frerin’s breath caught. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against her cheek. Amrie stopped, and stared at him. Frerin felt his cheeks heat.

“I’m- I’m so sorry Amrie….. I- I wasn’t thinking and I…..”

“You missed,” Amrie interrupted. Frerin blinked.

 “I what?” Amrie’s eyes danced.

“You missed,” she repeated, and then she grasped Frerin’s braids, pulling him down and carefully touched her lips against his. Frerin’s eyes flew closed. After a moment, she started to lower herself down. With a grumble of protest, Frerin swooped even further down and captured her lips again. They moved together for a few breath-taking minutes, and then Frerin reluctantly moved back, placing his forehead against hers.

They both stared wordlessly into each other’s eyes, panting slightly. Frerin noticed that Amrie’s eyes seemed to be an even darker green. He cleared his throat.

“Wow,” he breathed out.

“Wow,”Amrie parroted, eyes slightly wide. Frerin leaned closer and brushed his nose against Amrie’s.

“When the party is over, come find me. I have something for you,” he whispered. At Amrie’s nod they both stepped back. As the song ended, they bowed and curtsied to each other, and then hand in hand, they both walked back to the party. 

__________

Dear Yavanna, he kissed me back….. was the thought that ran through Amrie’s head the rest of the night. It looped around, bright and giddy. What does it mean?….. she pondered. 

Frerin had stood close to Amrie the rest of the night. He watched quietly as she distractedly thanked her guests for coming to the party, and handed out presents. They both sighed as the last person left, leaving only behind Frerin, Issenbras, herself, and Thorin. Issenbras glanced at the two, giving Amrie a knowing grin. He grabbed Thorin’s hand.

“Come, Thorin, help me pack up some of this food. It will be lovely to have tomorrow for second breakfast,” Issenbras said, pulling on Thorin’s hand. Thorin’s eyebrows raised, but he let himself be pulled towards the food tents. Frerin seemed to lose his patience, and took his chance.

Grabbing Amrie’s hand, he darted up the cobblestone pathway, and pulled her into her smial. He closed the door behind them. Amrie giggled shyly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. 

“Frerin, what-“ Frerin tugged on her hand.

“Come on,” he laughed, pulling her towards his kitchen. Amrie raised her eyebrows slightly, but she followed him. He stopped them in front of a small chest. He shifted.

“I know that hobbits don’t receive gifts on their birthdays,” Frerin said softly. “But I still wanted to give you a present.” He loudly swallowed as Amrie knelt down, lifting the the lid with shaking hands. Amrie felt a soft, cool material, and lifted the fabric up carefully. When Amrie saw what it was, she gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

In the chest was a pink silk dress.

Amrie leapt up, twirled around, and pressed her lips against Frerin’s. She stepped back, watching Frerin blink rapidly. “Thank you,” is what she meant to say, but instead what came out was:

“I love you.” Frerin’s eyes grew wide and his mouth opened slightly.

“Say it again,” he demanded breathlessly. Amrie gulped.

“I love you,” she whispered. She swallowed and took a step closer. Taking a deep breath, Amrie breathed out, “You’re my Heart.” Frerin’s gaze grew dark. He stepped forward, hooking a hand around her waist to pull her closer to his body. 

“I’m your Heart?” He questioned. Amrie gulped and nodded. She saw Frerin’s lips twitch upwards, and then his lips were on hers and nothing else mattered.

Chapter Text

Frerin woke up to the sun streaming through the window, hitting him in the face. He groaned and stretched out, freezing when he felt soft skin. Turning his head, Frerin’s body stiffened as he studied Amrie’s bare back. His cheeks flushed furiously.

Amrie stirred, letting out a soft sound. Her eyes flickered open, and lazily drifted towards Frerin. His breath caught at her soft smile and slightly flushed cheeks. She shyly patted his arm, murmuring in a voice rough from sleep;

“Good morning, Frey.”

“Good morning, Amrie.” Amrie twitched.

She cleared her throat.

Frerin cleared his throat.

He shifted in the bed. An awkward beat passed. Then, Amrie threw an arm over her eyes and rolled on her back. She began to convulse, shaking the bed. Frerin sat up and fluttered his hands uselessly. He felt a rush of panic until Amrie let out a great bark of laughter. 

“What?,” he asked a bit defensively. He watched as Amrie bit her lip, trying to keep her giggles at bay. 

“Oh Eru,” she gasped, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry, it’s just that we’re both so hopelessly awkward. I’m sorry.” And with that Amrie let out another peal of laughter. Frerin’s cheeks heated even more. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never done that before last night.” Amrie bit off her laughter and sat up a little, flinching as she did. Shame flooded Frerin. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Amrie tilted her head and stared at him seriously. 

“Do you regret what we did?”

“No!” Frerin exclaimed. “But- but I’ve obviously hurt you.” Amrie snorted and scooted closer, squeezing his hand.

“You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want to do,” she said kindly. Her cheeks suddenly flushed and she looked down at their intertwined hands. “Plus, it was my first time too, last night. I would be sore with whoever I slept with.” 

“Ah.” Amrie looked amused, despite her flushed cheeks. 

“Yes, ah,” she said as she slowly leaned over the side of the bed, grabbing her discarded shift and tugging it over her head. She threw back the covers, rolling out of the bed. She padded to the door and called out behind her, “I’m going to make second breakfast!” Frerin laid back for a moment, then he sat up and grimaced at his own sore muscles. He carefully got out of bed, and bent down to grab his trousers.

__________

Amrie swayed back and forth and hummed softly as she pushed the eggs around in the skillet. She felt Frerin’s large hands wrap around her waist. Amrie leaned back slightly, smiling as she felt Frerin burrow his face in her hair. He leaned even closer, and Amrie gasped when she felt him mouth her ear.

TWAP! Frerin reared back, affronted. 

“What was that for!” He cried. Amrie waved her spoon at him.

“Hot stove, canoodling- bad idea,” she gasped, using her free hand to push him away. Damnio ef! The bastard didn’t even move an inch. Frerin took a step back and smirked as he pulled Amrie closer to him. His self-assured smirk died down as he gently ran his hands down her side. His eyes bore into her.

“I would very much like to court you,” he stated seriously. Amrie smiled.

“I think you taking me to bed was pretty obvious.” Frerin’s cheeks flushed. Amrie bit back a giggle. He rolled his eyes slightly, but then went back to his seriousness. “I wish to court you, Amaryllis Took- my One, the proper Dwarven way.” Amrie took a step back so that she could see his face.

“And what would that entail?” She queried. 

“I would put a braid and bead, signifying that we are courting, in your hair. You would put one in mine. I would then make you seven gifts representing our Forefathers. If you accept all the gifts, we would be betrothed.” Amrie blinked.

“Well then, it would be my pleasure to be courted by you, Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror.” Frerin grinned tilted her chin up, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. He stopped when fingers pressed to his lips. He raised an eyebrow, and looked at Amrie. Amrie smirked. “If you participate in some of the courting customs of my people. I am a hobbit, after all.” Frerin stood up, looking amused.

“Alright, and what does hobbit courting entail?”

“Well, first a hobbit has to declare his intentions to court.” Frerin wrapped his arms around her. She swatted his arm. “Stop it. Now where was I…. Oh yes, first there’s the declaration to court, then the hobbits go on picnics and small walking holidays. There are flowers, and dinners, and family meet and greets. If all goes well, marriage is asked by presenting a ring. If the hobbit accepts the ring, they put it on the fourth finger on their left hand and then the couple will be betrothed.” Frerin nodded seriously. 

“I would gladly honor the traditions of your people, Uzfakuh.” Amrie huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Then, fy nghariad, I will gladly be courted by you.” Frerin’s eyebrows raised.

“Ven ha-ri-ad? What does that mean?” Amrie slyly grinned.

“Prehaps one day I’ll tell you,” she sang. Frerin’s eyes narrowed. His hand shot up, and dug into Amrie’s bottom rib. She shrieked helplessly as she smacked his shoulder. “Stop!” She squealed. “That’s so unfair! You’re not even ticklish yourself!” Frerin roared with laughter and bent down, capturing her lips with his. They moved together fluidly, until a rancid fume reached their noses.

“My eggs!” Amrie yelped, shoving herself back from Frerin and racing to the stove. She grabbed the pan and dumped it in the sink, great plumes of steam rising. She turned around a tried her hardest to glare at Frerin. To his advantage, he did look properly contrite. 

“Er, sorry Amrâlimê.” Amrie shook her head in exasperation.

“Sit down, Frey. We’ll have porridge, and then we can braid your courtship braids in our hair.” Frerin beamed, and sat down, grabbing his bowl from Amrie. 

__________

They both ate second breakfast quickly, only pausing to glance at each other and smile when their eyes met. When they were finished Frerin grabbed their dishes and dumped them in the sink. He turned towards Amrie and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into her room. 

He marched over to the trunk that held Amrie’s previously-forgotten dress and lifted the lid, carefully shifting the dress until his fingers brushed against a leather pouch. He grabbed it and sat down on the bed. Amrie sat next to him, watching interestedly. He carefully tipped out several glittering beads. He picked out a mithril bead and a jade bead, holding both out on his opened palm so Amrie could see. 

“Both of these beads are a traditional courting bead for the line of Durin, my kin,” Frerin explained. “Traditionally, you would make one for me, but since you are not a dwarf we can use this jade one for my hair.” Amrie nodded, and cleared her throat.

“Is there a certain type of braid for a courtship braid?” Frerin shook his head.

“It’s not really based on the type of braid, but the beads and the placement of said braid,” he said as he motioned for Amrie to turn her head, and separated three strands of hair above her right ear. He began to braid. “We place the braid above our right ear. Traditionally, you would leave it free, hanging over your shoulder. Most dwarrow nowadays weave it into their hairstyle- to keep the precious beads safe. When we are betrothed, we will add another bead signifying it to the braid. And when were are married,” Frerin gulped, but continued, “When we are married we will place the braid over our left ear with new beads,” he murmured as he twisted the end of Amrie’s braid and slid the mithril bead onto it. He twirled it several times to make it secure. Amrie turned towards him.

“My turn,” she whispered shakily. Frerin nodded and turned his head, relaxing when he felt Amrie’s nimble fingers run through his hair. They sat in silence for a moment, then Frerin thought of something.

“Amrie.”

“Hm?”

“You said that hobbits wear their betrothal rings on the fourth finger on their left hand. But you cut your finger off when you became a Bounder.”  Amrie paused, and then continued braiding.

“My parents,” she started hesitantly. At Frerin’s nod she continued, “My parents were both Bounders as you remember, and they kept their betrothal and marriage rings on a chain around their necks. I know other married Bounders that wear them on their third finger, instead of their fourth. The tradition isn’t set in stone- some hobbits that don’t even have rings since they can’t afford them.” Frerin hummed, and felt a tug from his hair. He turned slightly towards Amrie. 

“All done,” she stated proudly. Frerin chuckled, and handed her the little jade bead. He felt her twirl the braid around to check the security of the bead. Then, she patted his shoulder, and shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed again.

Frerin grasped her hips and easily lifted her onto his lap. He smiled, and brushed his lips on hers. Amrie smiled, and leaned down so that he would have better access to her mouth. After a moment, Frerin pulled his head back and placed his forehead against hers. Green eyes met blue, and Frerin understood that wherever he wandered Amrie would always be his home. 

“We should get properly dressed, and be ready for the day,” Amrie whispered, tracing his face. Frerin nodded, and carefully set Amrie on the floor. He stood up himself, and searched the floor for his tunic, grabbing it and tugging it on. He pulled the laces closed, and watched appreciatively as Amrie strapped on her bracer and tied a ruffly petticoat around her waist. She bent down in front of the truck, and reverently lifted up the silk dress. 

With a soft swoosh the fabric flowed along the curves of her body. She glanced up and oh, that cute dimple on her cheek appeared. She turned around and asked,

“Help me?” Frerin nodded dumbly, standing behind her. He tugged on the laces, fiddling with them until the closure was done up. He turned her back towards him and gently tapped his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed, and Frerin bent down a little bit further-

Thump. Thump. Thump.

They both pulled back, eyes wide. Frerin blurted out, “Nobody’s home!” Amrie hit his shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?” Amrie rolled her eyes as they heard a muffled voice yell,

“I know you two are in there! Open up, or I’ll have Thorin break down the door!” Amrie turned quickly and tripped down the hallway, screeching, 

“Issenbras Oak Took, if you have Thorin break down my door you are going to pay!” She flung open the door. Issenbras bounded in, giving Amrie a great big hug.

“Cuz! I’m glad to see you up, I thought me and Thorin would have to drag you two from your bed.” Amrie and Frerin flushed and she reached over to swipe him on the arm. Issenbras just laughed and reached over, gently pinching the material of her dress. “This is pretty! Oh and I like that braid- the bead looks nice against your hair,” Issenbras turned towards Frerin. “Is it silver?” Frerin almost laughed at Thorin’s face as he stared at Amrie’s braid. His eyes flickered to Frerin’s hair, and back to Amrie’s. 

“It’s mithril- it looks like silver, but is stronger and lighter than steel,” Frerin replied. Issenbras hummed appreciably. 

“It’s a bead signifying that Frerin and I are courting.”

Silence. Issenbras eyes bulged out, and he whipped his head back in forth. Frerin bit his lip to hold back his laughter. Amrie snorted, and he lost it. They both burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me?!” Amrie shook her head and replied giggling,

“No, we really are courting.” Issenbras lunged forward and wrapped Amrie in another hug.

“Yavanna’s ears! Congratulations, you two!” Issenbras let a still laughing Amrie go and turned to tackle Frerin in his own hug. Frerin couldn’t help but laugh even harder, patting Issenbras’ back. He stepped back and Thorin stepped up and placed a hand on Frerin’s shoulder.

“Congratulations, Nadadith,” he said as he brought their foreheads together. Frerin closed his eyes to combat the prickly sensation.

“Thank you, brother,” he thickly replied. Thorin stepped back and turned towards Amrie, enveloping her in her own hug. Frerin and Issenbras both roared as her eyes bugged out. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him too, and wrinkled her noise at the two of them. Thorin moved slightly back, placing his hands on Amrie’s shoulders.

“Congratulations, both of you. Mahal’s blessings on your courtship.” Amrie blinked. 

“W-well thank you, Thorin,” Amrie stammered. She opened her mouth to continue, when Issenbras threw up his arms and crowed-

“Wait, hooray! I get to be your chaperone!” Amrie slapped a hand over her face and groaned. Frerin turned towards Issenbras.

“What?”

__________

Frerin squeezed Amrie’s hand and they both grinned mischievously. The last few days were amazing, but also absolutely maddening. After Amrie and Issenbras explained chaperones and their purpose during hobbit courtship, Issenbras had taken the position very seriously. Every day he followed them around. And when he thought that they were getting too close, he would wedge himself in between them. Honestly, if Issenbras wasn’t Thorin’s One Frerin would strangle him. As of right now, Issenbras was busy saying goodbye to Thorin, so Frerin took his chance.

“What are the odds that Issenbras and Thorin will kiss each other,” Amrie said from the corner of her mouth. Frerin snorted.

“Low, but not entirely impossible.” Amrie snorted and squeezed his hand, turning towards him. Frerin smiled and leaned down, brushing his lips against her forehead. He bent down even more and-

THUNK. Frerin reared back and glared at Issenbras, who didn’t even look the least bit sorry. Thorin, the rotter, looked like he was stifling a laugh. Frerin threw his hands up. Issenbras smirked.

“Leave enough room for Yavanna,” he sang. Amrie’s stare hardened. Issenbras let out an “eek,” and ducked behind Thorin.

“Just you wait, you poen absoliwt yn fy nhin,” Amrie muttered. “When Thorin finally starts courting you I’m going to give you hell.” Frerin snorted.

Thorin, who thankfully didn’t hear Armrie, shook his head bemusedly and mounted onto his pony. He nodded his head towards Frerin, Amrie, and Issenbras who waved as he trotted down the road. 

When Thorin faded from view, Frerin let out a breath and turned to walk back to Tuckborough, when Amrie snagged his hand. He raised an eyebrow and turned towards her. She shifted.

“I know you have a courtship bead already, but you also said that they are made for the specific person,” she said as she pressed something small and warm into his free hand. Frerin opened his hand. Laying in the middle of his palm was a small wooden bead. Frerin lifted it up into the light, and he noticed the runes of courtship inscribed in bronze. His breath caught.

“Wha-what? How-“

“Shem carved the basic bead for me, and Thorin helped me with the metal and the runes,” Amrie explained as she shifted. “Do you like it?” Frerin clenched the bead in his hand.

“Marry me,” he blurted out. Amrie reared back and blinked. Stupid! Issenbras burst out laughing. Amrie shook herself, and said kindly,

“Ask me again after a couple months of courting.” Frerin flushed, but nodded. Amrie turned slightly and elbowed Issenbras. He let out a wheeze, and threw a betrayed look at her. Amrie raised an eyebrow and reached over to grab Frerin’s hand. “C’mon Frey, let’s go see if Ms. Proudfoot has any jerky for Cryfder.” Frerin bobbed his head, and tried not to groan as Issenbras took Amrie’s other arm. Mahal give me strength, he thought. This was going to be a long couple of months in the Shire. Hopefully he didn't kill Issenbras before the end of it.

Chapter Text

Frerin snarled and threw down the piece of parchment. He paced his room angrily. He had waited so patiently, for four years! He had only been in the Shire for two and a half months, and he was supposed to stay for five! Why, oh why, did he have to go back? He was a spare, his words held little to no weight in the council. He hardly mattered. He hardly ever mattered.

Tap, tap, tap. 

A light knocking interrupted his dark musings. He strode to the door and flung it open. He softened. Amrie stood on the threshold, a straw hat firmly stuck on her head and a basket tucked under her arm. Issenbras stood behind her. 

“Frey! You ready for the Midsummer festival?” Frerin smiled, and exhaled, releasing his anger and the dark thoughts. 

“Of course, uzfakuh,” he said as he teasingly crooked his arm out. Amrie laughed and wove her arm through his. Issenbras rolled his eyes muttered,

“Lovers.” Amrie rolled her eyes and threw her elbow into Issenbras’ ribs as she walked past, pulling Frerin towards the light. 

__________

Amrie lifted her hand, looking up at the beams of light piercing through the canopy of trees. She wiggled her fingers back and forth absently as she thought about her courtship with Frerin. To be honest, it was much like their friendship before, except Issenbras insisted on chaperoning them. And by chaperoning, Amrie meant he was being an even larger pain than she ever thought possible. Anywhere she went with Frerin, Issenbras went too. Every time she and Frerin did a much as hold hands, Issenbras would sidle up next to her and made some comment about making room for Yavanna or someone along that vein. Yavanna help her, if he made one more comment she was going to do something that he wouldn’t like. Maybe write a profession of love in his name to Thorin.

Amrie turned her head to the side, lips quirking as she noticed Frerin staring with a wry smile and dreamy eyes. He blinked and his face shifted into a more neutral expression. They both looked at a snoring Issenbras, and smirked. Frerin carefully got up and walked over to Amrie.

__________

Frerin gently sat down next to Amrie, and laid back. He looked up at the canopy of the trees, savoring the quiet moment together with his One. Amrie laid with him quietly for a while, then grabbed his hand and turned her head towards him again.

“You’ve been upset these last few days.” Damn it. Frerin had hoped that Amrie wouldn’t have noticed. He blew out a breath, squeezing her hand gently.

“I received a letter from Thorin,” he started carefully. Amrie sat up. She stared at him for a moment, and then understanding flooded in her eyes.

“You have to go back to Ered Luin.” Frerin nodded. “When?”

“Two weeks.” Amrie blew out a breath and nodded slowly. She let his hand go and rested her chin on her knees, hands loosely wrapped around her ankles. 

“When will you come back?,” she whispered. Frerin pushed himself up and willed himself not to cry.

“I don’t know.” Amrie looked at him and then turned, staring blankly at the trees ahead of her. The silence was stifling. Frerin tried to desperately come up with a condolence, a way to ease the disappointment that was rolling off like waves. 

“Amrie, I’m so sorry. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can-“

“Ask me,” she interrupted.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Frerin grabbed her hand.

“Are you sure?” Amrie nodded and whispered,

“Ask me, Frerin.” Frerin swallowed, and blinked away the burn in his eyes. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. This isn’t how I wanted this to happen…. 

“Marry me, Amrâlimê, Uzfakuh.” A tear rolled down Amrie’s face and her lips stretched into a trembling smile.

“It would be my honor to marry you, Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” she said tremulously. Frerin lunged forward, grabbing her face and pressing their lips together. Amrie’s arms flew around his neck and they both shut out the world for a moment. 

__________

Frerin carefully pulled back from Amrie and gently tapped his forehead against hers. Amrie had learned after the first day of their courtship that the gesture was a familiar one, so she kept her eyes closed and just breathed Frerin in. After a moment, she fluttered her eyes open and oh there was her stomach again. She sent Frerin a small smile.  

Frerin’s intense look softened slightly, and he smiled unsurely back. He clasped her hand in between both of his and squeezed gently.

“I don’t have a ring,” he confessed. Amrie giggled and shrugged slightly.

“Then make me one,” Amrie challenged. And there was that grin that she adored. She continued, “But do know that I don’t really need one, I just want you.” Frerin softened completely and his eyes darkened. He tugged her closer, pulling her onto his lap.

“Menu tessu, Usfakuh. Men lananubukhs me,” Frerin rumbled in Amrie’s ear. Amrie desperately tried not to gasp at the close proximity, and then to not roll her eyes.

“You really need to tell me what you’re saying,” Amrie muttered against Frerin’s lips. He grinned.

“One day, Amrâlimê, one day.” Amrie gave in and rolled her eyes, but decided to focus on the sensation of Frerin’s beard scratching her chin and his hands wrapped around her waist, their warmth seeping into her. Their kiss started soft and gentle- but then turned scorching and passionate. Just as about Amrie was about to pull Frerin on top of her, an “OI!” was heard in the clearing. Then, Amrie was lifted into the air.

Amrie looked back at a glowering Issenbras and grinned apologetically. Frerin sputtered with indignation.  

“Oh come on! I should be allowed to be able to kiss my betrothed!,” he shouted, hitting the ground in irritation. 

THUD. Amrie glared up at Issenbras. But he just stared at Frerin, mouth agape and eyes bugged out.  

“B-betrothed?,” Issenbras stammered. “You’re going to be married?!” Frerin and Amrie both nodded. Issenbras’ eyes snapped down towards her. He reached out his hand, and helped pull her up. When Amrie was upright he put both hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. 

“Ydych chi'n siŵr am hyn?” Amrie raised an eyebrow.

“Ie, dwi'n siŵr. Ef yw fy Nghalon, Issenbras.” An unreadable emotion flashed across Issenbras’ face. It left as quickly as it came, leaving a loving expression behind. He wrapped his arms around her.

“Then congratulations, you two. The Green Lady’s blessings on you.” Amrie let out a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding.

“Thank you, cousin,” she murmured. Issenbras let her go and moved over to Frerin, who was watching carefully. He put a firm hand on Frerin’s shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Frerin looked confused but nodded and Issenbras stepped back, looking pleased. 

“Well, then! When’s the wedding,” Issenbras asked, clapping his hands. Amrie and Frerin both glanced at each other.

“Erm, two weeks?” And there was the blinking again.

“Excuse me?!”

Chapter Text

BANG! 

Frerin carefully poured the molten gold into the molds. He looked at Tuckborough’s blacksmith and smiled politely. Thankfully, the blacksmith hadn’t minded Frerin using the smithy. Frerin had made almost all of the seven required courting gifts- most of them being a mixture of pretty and practical- and he was almost done with their wedding rings and beads and Amrie’s betrothal ring. 

He turned to the thin sheets of gold and applied a gentle heat to them. Metal work was not his forte, but by Mahal, he wasn’t a dwarf for nothing. He carefully curved the sheets, humming softly. Humming a song that he and Amrie wrote together. A song for their wedding. 

BANG!

___________

Frerin was dumbfounded. “A song?” He queried. Amrie nodded vehemently. 

“Yes, Frey, a song,” she said, tearing a bite from her roll. “All hobbits write a song for their wedding day," she mumbled around her bite, gesturing with the rest of her roll, "It’s supposed to describe our relationship so far, and our hopes for our future.” Frerin leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

“Hm.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Frerin leaned forward.

“Do all hobbits write their wedding songs?” He demanded. Amrie blinked.

“W-well, not all of them- there are some hobbits that have bards write their song for them.” Frerin nodded seriously, and then abruptly shoved his chair back and stood up. He walked out of the room.

“Frerin! What are you doing?” Amrie yelled. 

“I’m getting a pen and parchment!” Frerin yelled back, his voice carrying across several rooms. Amrie blinked, and then began to laugh.

“Come back in here, you silly dwarf!” Amrie giggled, “We can have our dinner first!”

__________

Amrie stood in front of the teal painted door, and hesitated. She heard giggles and squeals on the other side, and a soft feminine voice calling out. Amrie raised her hand and rapped on the door. She a heard a faint, “Coming!,” and then the door swung open. Adamanta eyes went wide, her mouth agape. Amrie gulped.

“Amrie?” Amrie smiled tentatively. 

“Hello, Addy. Is Thain Gerontius home?” Adamanta rapidly shook her head.

“No, no he’s collecting rent. Do you need him? Is- is it Bounder business?” Amrie shook her head.

“No, I’m not here for official business.” She shifted. “I need to grab something from mama’s glory box.” Adamant’s eyes widened. She leaned over the threshold, looking down the street. She beckoned for Amrie to come in.  

Amrie stepped in, and Adamanta firmly shut the door. Little feet pounded through the hallway, and cries of “Auntie Ame!,” filled the hallway.

“Hey, blodau bach,” Amrie said, wrapping her arms around Belladonna and Isengrim. Isumbras and Hildigard toddled around Adamanta, glancing nervously. Amrie’s heart twisted. She felt a tug on her sleeve, distracting her from her sorrow.

“Auntie, are you staying for tea?” Amrie bit her lip and squeezed Belladonna.

“No, my darlings, I’m afraid I’m not staying for long this time,” Amrie said carefully. Isengrim frowned.

“Why?” Amrie smoothed a lock of hair away from his eyes. She blinked away her tears.

“Auntie has a lot of things to do today, cariad. But perhaps one day Auntie can come over and have a nice, long visit.” Isengrim looked serious for moment, but then smiled and nodded.

“Okay, Auntie!” He grabbed Belladonna’s hand and ran out of the room. He yelled back behind him, “Come back really soon, okay!” Amrie’s lips trembled.

“Okay, Isemgrim,” she said brokenly, standing up. She looked at Adamanta, whose eyes were shining too. Amrie nodded at her, and quietly walked down the hallway. She took a breath, and opened the door to the library. 

Crossing the room, Amrie stopped in front of a wooden box painted with sunflowers. She knelt down and reverently ran her hands over the cheerful flowers sucking in breath. Oh, mama- if only you could see this…. She turned the key in the lock, and carefully lifted the lid. She began shifting and lifting out linens. Adamanta drew closer.

“What are you looking for?” Amrie huffed.

“Mama’s wedding dress and my veil,” Amrie muttered, hands lingering momentarily on her mother’s embroidery. Adamanta gasped. 

“Are you marrying that dwarf?” Adamanta queried. Amrie bristled.

“If by ‘that dwarf’ you mean Frerin, son of Thrain, then yes. I am planning on marrying him.”

“When?” Amrie twisted around and looked up at Adamanta.

“In week, if you must know.” Adamanta gaped.

“A week! Does Gerontuis know?” Amrie bit her tongue so she wouldn’t give a rude retort. She took a deep breath. 

“No, Thain Gerontuis does not know about my up-coming marriage,” Amrie said evenly, turning back towards the open glory box. “Nor would I think he would care about one lowly Bounder.” Adamanta was quiet as Amrie pulled out the wedding dress and veil, both wrapped up in paper. 

Amrie carefully placed everything else back into the box and closed the lid, turning the key and locking it. She stood up and dusted her skirt, turning towards the door.

“Thank you, Adamanta. I’ll be out of your hair now,” Amrie said reaching for the doorknob. Hearing Adamanta call out her name made her pause. She turned back towards Adamanta.

“Do you love him?” Amrie smiled.

“With everything that I am, Addy. He’s my Heart.” Adamanta’s eyes grew huge.

“Your Heart!” Amrie nodded. Adamanta walked up to her, her face unreadable. Amrie gulped, and then froze when Adamanta threw her arms around her. 

“My congratulations,” Adamanta whispered, squeezing Amrie. She pulled back and placed her hands on Amrie’s shoulders. “Full larder, full house, happy life.” Amrie felt tears spill down her face at the hobbit blessing. She threw her arms around Adamanta.

“Thank you,” she whispered brokenly.

__________

Frerin shifted. He growled softly, and resisted the urge to fiddle with the forget-me-nots woven into his braids. Issenbras leaned over and whispered softly,

“It’s okay. It’s almost time to began.” Frerin slightly nodded, and then looked at the group gathered as he heard murmuring. He stared as Amrie walked towards him. She wore a simple white dress and her courtship braid swung out, mithril bead catching the light. Her curls hung down her back, covered by her veil and a crown of colorful flowers. Mahal, She was gorgeous. He let out a shaky breath as Amrie stopped in front of him.

“Hi,” she whispered shyly, handing her bouquet to Clove and grabbing his hands.

“Hi,” he said roughly. He cleared his throat. “You look absolutely stunning.” Amrie beamed, and they both turned towards the cleric overseeing the wedding. He nodded at them and clapped his hands, the gathering grew quiet. He cleared his throat.

“Friends and family, we are here to witness and celebrate the binding of Amaryllis Took, and Frerin, son of Thrain. They will braid their hair to honor dwarven tradition and trade rings to honor ours.” 

Frerin reached out with shaky hands and braided a lock of hair above Amrie’s left ear. He pulled an emerald and gold bead out and slid it into the braid. He pulled out an engraved gold band hanging on a chain, and carefully placed it over her head. Amrie let out a shaky breath, and then braided Frerin’s hair, sliding on the matching bead that Frerin had made onto the braid. She held out a simple gold band, taking his hand and pushing it onto his finger. They both turned towards the cleric.

He pulled out a white ribbon and wrapped it around their hands. He turned towards Frerin. “Please say your vows?” Frerin nodded and squeezed Amrie’s hands.

“Amaryllis, the first time I saw you, I knew that you were the other part of my soul, my One.” He swallowed. “In the past four years I have gotten to know you, I have admired and passionately fallen further in love with you. Amrie, I promise to love you through joy and sorrow, trials and tribulations. I promise to protect you and provide for you. Ni dûmê zasamkhihiya zahar, ni kurduzi zâmkhihi azhâr. You are my Ghivashel, uzfakuh. Men lananubukhs me.” Amrie’s eyes glimmered, and the cleric turned toward her.

“Amaryllis, will you please say your vows.” Amrie nodded, and squeezed Frerin’s hands back. She stared straight into Frerin’s eyes.

“Frerin, I do not know exactly when I had fallen in love with you, but I do know that wherever we go, ni dûmzu zâmkhihi zahar, ni kurdumê zasamkhihi azhâr.” She smiled a bit proudly. It had taken almost all of the two weeks of careful coaching from Frerin to learn that. She took a deep breath. “Frerin, I promise to love you through joy, trials, and tribulations. With my hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine. With my candle, I will light your way through darkness. And I will provide fruit and seed for you. Byddaf yn dy garu yn y bywyd hwn yn y bywyd hwn, a'r nesaf. Rwy'n dy garu di.” They both looked at the cleric. He clapped his hands and beamed. 

“With these vows, in the eyes of Yavanna and Aule, I pronounce you husband and wife.” He gestured to Frerin. “You may kiss your bride.” And amidst the cheers of their friends, Frerin leaned over and sealed their promises.

__________

Among the partying hobbits, Amrie leaned against Frerin and sighed. He clasped his hands loosely around her middle, and looked down at her, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Amrie looked up and smiled softly.

“All is well,” she whispered. Frerin smiled tenderly at her. Issenbras came up, wading past the groups and handed them both a mug of ale.

“Lovely ceremony, you two,” he quipped, beaming. He motioned to the mugs. “I would drink up, your first dance will be soon.” With that, Issenbras bounced away into the party. Frerin blinked. Amrie giggled.

“You know, I think Issenbras is projecting his own wedding dreams onto us,” she said wryly. She grinned when Frerin snorted. Amrie squeezed Frerin’s hand and snuggled closer to him.

“I love you,” she murmured. Frerin lit up.

“And I you,” he said roughly back, bending his head down to catch her lips with his. After a moment, he moved back and placed his forehead on hers. 

Their sweet moment was then rudely interrupted by Tom standing on the table, hollering for the first dance. They both rolled their eyes.

Frerin stood up and held out his hand. Amrie smiled shyly and took it, letting Frerin lead her out into the middle of the field, wrapping their arms loosely around each other’s waists. Frerin started the song in his rich tenor.

“I've waited a hundred years.

But I'd wait a million more for you.

Nothing prepared me for,

What the privilege of being yours would do.” Frerin brushed a lock of hair out of Amrie’s eyes.

“If I had only felt the warmth within your touch.

If I had only seen how you smile when you blush.

Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough.

Well, I would have known-

What I was living for, all along.

What I've been living for.” Amrie joined him.

“Your love is my turning page,

Where only the sweetest words remain.

Every kiss is a cursive line-

Every touch is a redefining phrase.”

“I surrender who I've been, for who you are,” sang Amrie.

“For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart,”  Frerin returned.

“If I had only felt how it feels to be yours.”

“Well I would have known-“ Amrie sang with a quaver.

What I've been living for, all along.”

They harmonized with each other, “What I've been living for.” They swayed together to the music for a moment, then Frerin took a breath and sang,

“Though we're tethered, to the story we must tell.

When I saw you, well I knew we'd tell it well.”

“With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas.

Like a feather, bringing kingdoms to their knees.” Amrie ended softly.

Frerin cupped his hand around the curve of Amrie's jaw and brought their foreheads together. The group cheered, Issenbras being the loudest. Amrie and Frerin laughed. For better and for worse, they were together for always.

Chapter Text

Amrie clasped her hands around Issenbras’ back. She blinked desperately, lip quivering. He squeezed her back, hands clutching the edges of her amour. 

“Come back, Amrie,” Issenbras begged wetly. Amrie sucked in a breath.

“I will, I promise.” Issenbras pulled back, and nodded. He wiped his eyes, and moved over to Frerin slapping his shoulder.

“You take good care of her, you hear?,” he demanded. Frerin nodded.

“I swear I will protect her and care for her,” Frerin promised. Issenbras’ lip trembled, but he nodded fiercely. He stepped back and watched as Frerin lifted Amrie up into the cart. As Frerin climbed into the cart and took the reins, Issenbras raised his hand.

“We’ll see each other soon, safe travels!” Amrie waved back as the cart jerked forward. 

“I’ll see you soon, Issenbras!,” she called back. She twisted in her seat and waved until Issenbras faded from view. Turning back, she placed a hand on Frerin’s knee. “I am quite ready for an adventure, aren’t you?” Frerin smiled and put his arm around her waist.

“As long as I’m with you, I am.”

__________

Frerin shifted in his seat. The gates of Ered Luin loomed over head. Amrie placed a gentle hand in his. He glanced at her. She sat upright with a serene air, despite the dirt on her face and her travel worn clothes. Cryfder was perched on her shoulder. A princess worthy of the line of Durin indeed, Frerin mused. 

“All is well?” Frerin’s mouth quirked.

“All is well,” he said, as calmly as he could. He stopped the cart at the guards standing at the front of the gates. Their eyes bulged out.

“P-prince Frerin.” Frerin waved his hand imperviously. 

“Yes, yes, hello,” he said a bit impatiently. “Would you please open the gates?” He glared at them, and they looked down and opened the gates. As they continued into the city, all the dwarrow stopped dead in their tracks and stared at them. A sharbragân… was whispered loudly. Frerin ground his teeth together. 

“Frey, why is everyone staring?” Amrie hissed out of the corner of her mouth. Frerin threw a rude sign back to a miner as they passed. 

“They haven’t seen a hobbit before,” he growled. Tashrab, they should’ve stayed in the Shire, no matter what ugmil’adad said. They passed under a high arching stone way, and entered in the small court yard. Amrie stiffened as they pulled to a stop in front of a small group.

The only one who wasn’t staring with wide eyes was Thorin. Frerin sighed, and jumped down, going around the cart to Amrie. She leaned down a little, and he put his hands around her waist and set her down on the ground. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, pressing his lips against her forehead. Amrie nodded, and grabbed his hand. Together, they walked around the cart hand and hand towards the group.

__________

Amrie studied the dwarrow in front of her. They stared silently, eyes flickering back and forth to Amrie, Cryfder, Amrie, and then Frerin. Thorin broke the silence by stepping forward and pulling them both into a bear hug. Amrie stiffened slightly, but then relaxed, throwing her arms around him. He pulled back and looked at them both, amused.

“Bizarurimenu- congratulations, you two.” A dwarf who looked exactly like Thorin stomped up to Frerin and slapped him on the head. 

“Turg!” The dwarf bellowed, smacking Frerin. Frerin yelped, trying to cover his face. “You got married and you DIDN’T INVITE US!” The other dwarrow chortled, and Amrie joined in, eventually bending in on herself. The dwarf paused her attack and stared at Amrie. Frerin threw her a betrayed look from behind his arms.

“Oh, oh I’m so sorry,” Amrie chuckled, wiping her eyes. “There wasn’t any time, or we would’ve invited all of you. You must be Lady Dis.” The dwarf smirked and stepped towards Armie.

“So, this is the hobbit.” Amrie nodded and bowed her head. 

“Amaryllis Took, wife of Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thor, at your service.” The dwarf stared at her and then laughed, saying,

“Well guessed, I am Dis, daughter of Thrain, son of Thor, at yours and your family’s.” Her eyes twinkled. “Though it’s rather inefficacious, taken that you are part of our family now.” Amrie tilted her head at that, and then nodded shyly. Dis smiled and moved to her, wrapping her arms around her. Cryfder squawked and flew off. Dis pulled back and grinned. “Well, since you are married to my idiot brother, you must just call me Dis, sister.” Amrie beamed at her.

“If so, please call me Amrie- everyone does.” Dis nodded, her eyes dancing.

“Mahal,” Frerin and Thorin groaned. Amrie and Dis turned towards them. They both looked terrified.

“We never thought of what would happen if you two actually liked each other,” Frerin whined. Thorin nodded. Amrie and Dis smirked wickedly. 

“Well, of course I would like her, she’s your sister!”

“You two ishmeti seem to have forgotten that I’ve also been in correspondence with dear Amrie here for several years too.”

“Oh that is true! Dis here has a lovely recipe for spiced biscuits!” Frerin placed a hand dramatically on his forehead.

“We’re doomed,” he moaned, waving his other hand in the air. “Mahal save us all from evil, conniving, brilliant women.” Dis and Amrie cackled, the latter sidling up next to him and squeezing his hand.

“Don’t worry, dear heart, I promise I won’t torment you too much,” she said with a mischievous grin. Frerin gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Thank Mahal for small mercies then, I supposed,” he muttered, leaning down and rubbing his nose with hers. She gave him a delighted grin. A throat clearing interrupted them. They both looked up and a stern-looking dwarf with a salt and pepper beard stepped closer to them.

“Perhaps an introduction is in order, laddie,” the dwarf said, giving them a gimlet stare. Frerin straightened himself. Amrie swallowed.

“Of course Fundin,” Frerin said a bit stiffly. He put his arm around her waist, hand settling at her him. Amrie let his warm heat ground her. 

“This is Amaryllis Took, daughter of Thain Fortinbras and Captain of the First Wave Alyssum Took. My One and wife.” There were several sharp inhales at that. Frerin motioned to the dwarf with the salt and pepper bread. “Amrie, this Fundin, son of Farin- my grandfather’s adviser”- he swept his arm to a tall, GIANT of a dwarf and a shorter, kindly looking dwarf- “These are his sons, Dwalin and Balin.” Dwalin narrowed his eyes at her while Balin gave her a kind smile and a short bow. Amrie bowed her head. “And of course you know Thorin and Dis already,” Frerin finished a bit carelessly. Amrie bowed her head again.

“It’s lovely to meet you all- I am at your service,” she said. Fundin narrowed his eyes at her. She resisted the urge to shrink on herself. Why is he looking at me like that…. 

“I must give my apologies, Villi and Filli, would be here to greet you both, but unfortunately Filli has been unwell these past few days.” Amrie snapped her head up and turned towards Dis.

“Oh,” she queried, “What ails Filli?” Dis shook her head, looking worried.

“Our healers cannot say. They hope it will run it’s course quickly…”

“May I see him?” Amrie interrupted. Fundin glared at her. 

“Are you a healer?” He growled out. Amrie shook her head.

“No, but I’ve been taking care of children for as long as I remember. They would sometimes get sick, and I would help our doctors nurse them back to health.” Fundin scoffed. Dis moved close and grabbed Amrie’s arm.

“Of course,” she said softly, ignoring Fundin’s growls. “Even if you could get him to eat his food, I would be forever grateful.” Amrie squeezed Dis’ arm. “Frerin, why don’t you boys put up the ponies and set your luggage in your rooms. I’ll watch over Amrie.” 

Frerin stared at Amrie, raising an eyebrow. ‘Will you be alright?’ Amrie gave him a nod. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she mentally willed. Frerin nodded and turned towards Dwalin, giving him a slap on his shoulder. As Dis steered her out of the courtyard, Amrie heard the rumbling language that Frerin still refused to translate spat out. She craned her neck, but Dis pulled her along.

“Did I do something wrong?” Dis hesitated.

“Not purposely,” she began carefully. “Dwarrow do not typically marry until they have courted for at least seven years, and even that is considered fast.” Amrie’s head spun. Seven years!

“Oh,” she said faintly. Dis nodded. They quickly approached a door with a rune that Amrie did not recognize carved into it. Dis pushed on the door, and it swung in silently. Amrie tried not to let her jaw drop. How strong is she!!

Amrie followed Dis as she walked through a warm sitting room and into another room. As Amrie walked in, she noticed an older dwarf standing on the edge of a room shaking his head. She also saw handsome blond dwarf sitting of the edge of the bed, with a tinier blond head almost covered. Both dwarrow looked up at her. The blond dwarf who was probably Villi stood up.

“Who are ya, lassie?” The older dwarf gruffly asked. Dis waved her hand. 

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, Oin. This is Amrie, Frerin’s wife.” Both dwarrow’s eyes bugged out and they spluttered. Amrie tried desperately not to roll her eyes. “She says that she can probably help.” Both dwarrow stared at her, but moved over. Amrie walked over to the bed.

Amrie rolled up her sleeves, and carefully lifted the covers. She sucked in a breath. Little Filli’s entire body was red, and the sheets were soaked. He swallowed, and grimaced. Amrie placed a hand on his forehead. It was scorching hot. She quickly moved to the end of the bed, throwing back the covers. She felt his feet and immediately sat down, rubbing his foot between her hands.

“Icy cold,” she muttered. In a louder voice she ordered,”I need a basin with warm water and rags. Somebody else get tulsi, ginger, and honey. We need to bring his fever down from his head!” Dis and Villi ran out. Oin shuffled closer.

“Do you know what this illness is, halfling?”

“Hobbit,” Amrie said shortly. “And yes, I do. We call it scarlet fever- if not treated right away, it can claim the life of the infected. How long has Filli been sick?” Oin grunted.

“Four days.” Amrie blanched. 

“Thank Yavanna I got here,” she murmured. Dis strode into the room, another female dwarf trailing behind her with a basin. Amrie furrowed her eyebrows. She turned towards Oin.

“Master Oin, have you seen this illness before?” Oin pressed his lips together. 

“No,” he bit out. Amrie nodded. She turned towards Dis.

“Dis, you need to leave the room, wash your hands, and change your clothes.” Dis’ eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to retort, but Amrie continued, “Having scarlet fever is dangerous, especially so in your condition. You cannot be in this room while there is a chance you could catch it. It isn’t healthy for the baby.” Dis’ eyes grew wide. There was a loud crash and everyone spun around to stare at a wide-eyed Villi. He took a step forward.

“Dis?” He asked tentatively. Dis was counting on her fingers. She looked up.

“Muhud turgun….” She gasped. Amrie rolled her eyes. Frerin really needed to teach her what they were all saying.

“Yay, congratulations, now please do as I say and shoot a prayer up to Eru that you won’t get sick,” Amrie said, muttering to herself after, “Dwarrows and their heads of stone.” Villi lead out a gobsmacked Dis. Amrie glanced up at Oin, who was looking at her like she was one of the Valar. She sighed.

“Master Oin, if you would please take over, I’m going to prepare a fever tea,” Amrie snapped. Oin raised his eyebrows, but did exactly as she asked. Amrie picked up the bunch of tulsi that Villi had dropped on the floor, and started ripping the leaves apart to make the tea.

__________

Frerin sat next to Dis, watching as she wrung her hands. He covered her hands with his.

“It’s going to be alright.” Dis spun towards him, her eyes flashing.

“How do you know?”

“It will,” Frerin stated firmly. They sat quietly for hours, Villi alternating between sitting down on Dis’ other side, and pacing in front of them. The warm, pink light of the morning shone on them, when Frerin saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Turning around, he watched Amrie walk out of the room, wiping her hands with a rag. Oin trailed behind her. Everyone stood up.  

“His fever broke,” Amrie said softly, swaying in place. Dis covered a gasp with her hand. Villi walked up to Amrie and bowed.

“Thank you, thank you so much. If you ever need anything- I, Villi, son of Heptfilli of the Firebeards, am at your service.” Amrie shifted, but gave him wry smile.

“There is no need for that, we are family,” she said, shaking her head. Villi smiled, and tapped her forehead with his. Amrie gave him one of her blinding smiles. She looked at the rest of the group. 

“Filli will still be weak, he will need plenty of liquids while he recovers. I would also have him continue drinking the fever tea until he is fully recovered.” She turned towards Thorin. “When Filli wakes up, he will need to be moved so his room can be completely cleaned. Master Oin said that since him and the other healers didn’t know what the illness was, they weren’t very careful and thus there’s a chance it will spread.” Thorin eyes widened and he nodded.

“I will let my father know.” Amrie nodded and her eyelids fluttered slightly. Frerin stood up and wrapped his arm around her. 

“I think we should all get some rest,” he said firmly, as he lead Amrie out of the room. Amrie waved, but quietly allowed Frerin to pull her along side him.

They walked down the long halls in a compatible silence. Frerin carefully adjusted Amrie’s long braid out of the way. She smiled tiredly, and leaned against him. He squeezed her waist.  

A guard appeared in front of them. Frerin bit back a curse. The guard shifted uncomfortably, looking like he would like to be somewhere else. Frerin knew what he was there for. It was a favorite tactic of his grandfather’s and father’s- they would wait until the person they wanted to interrogate was exhausted, and then call for them so that they would share more information. Frerin growled. The guard shifted again.

“Prince Frerin, his Majesty and your father demands for the audience of you and your wife.” Frerin scoffed.

“My wife has just spent her entire evening nursing my ailing nephew without any rest from our travels. She is very tired. We will talk to them later.” Frerin took a step, fully intending to brush past the guard, when he felt a grasp on his arm. Frerin yanked his arm out of the guard’s grip. The guard glared at him. Frerin glared back. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Frerin, let’s go see what they want.” Frerin turned towards Amrie. He took in the way she swayed in place and the dark circles under her eyes. He shook his head.

“You’re exhausted- you’re almost falling asleep on your feet,” he accused flatly. Amrie shrugged a shoulder. 

“I am, but once we see what your father and grandfather want from us, I can go to bed. A half an hour won’t kill me.” Frerin huffed. He placed a hand on her cheek.

“Are you sure?” Amrie nodded. Frerin sighed, turning back towards the guard. “Take us to them,” Frerin demanded. The guard jerked his head, and motioned for them to follow him. Frerin shoved down the bitter resentment rising in him. He needed to be stone- unfeeling and unchanging.

__________

Amrie gripped Frerin’s hand. They stood in front of two huge, jewel-encrusted doors. Frerin clenched his jaw. Amrie felt her heart race. The guard that had escorted them stuck his head out of the doors. 

“They are ready to see you,” he said. Amrie took a deep breath. Frerin squeezed her hand, and they both walked into the room.

Extravagant. That was Amrie’s first thought. The whole room was decorated in fine materials, metals, and precious gemstones. She blinked, and then focused to the center of the room. A dwarf with a thick bead sat on a throne. He was gaudily dressed in heavy furs and gold amour. Awe inspiring, but impractical… Amrie thought. Her eyes shifted to the dwarf standing on the right hand of the throne. He had mountain tattooed across his nose. That must be Thrain, Frerin’s father, she realized. Vaguely she recognized Fundin and Balin among the groups of dwarrow scattered around the room. Whispers erupted.

Frerin’s jaw ticked, but he bowed deeply to the king and his father. Amrie quickly copied him. I wish I would’ve had time to change….

“Ugmil’adad, Adad, I would like to present to you my One and wife, Amaryllis Took,” he said in a stiff tone, so unlike himself. Amrie smothered a grimace and put a fist in front of her chest in traditional Bounder style and bowed her head further.

“A halfling.” Amrie’s head popped up.

“Hobbit,” Amrie said a bit testily. Frerin stiffened, and her mind screamed at her, but Amrie continued, “I am half of nothing.” The king’s eyes flashed dangerously. Amrie pushed down every instinct inside of her that screamed to run, to flee. He shifted his eyes off of her and to Frerin. He straightened himself.

“Are you sure she’s your One? That sharbragân?” Frerin stiffened even more.

“Yes,” he bit out shortly. Murmurs filled the court. 

“And you married her?”

“Yes.” 

“For how long did you two court? Were you secretly courting for all this time?” 

“And your marriage,” inputted a dwarrow dripping with gems, “Did you even follow the traditions that Durin the Deathless himself set in place for all his descendants, or did this sharbragân have you throw them in the wind?” Frerin’s eyes flashed. Amrie straightened and tugged her marriage and courtship braids out of her hairstyle, bringing them over her shoulder so that all could see. The room went deathly silent. She put a hand on Frerin’s arm and held her head up proudly.  

“Master dwarf, Frerin and I have followed the courting traditions that your culture and mine have dictated for courtship and marriage. We were bound with the proper ceremonies in the eyes of the Valar, Yavanna and Aule, and my people. You will not find a loophole to disavow our marriage.” The dwaft narrowed his eyes at her. The king glared at her. Thrain shifted, and then waved his hand in their direction, leaning towards the king. 

“Adad, perhaps we should let them go get some rest. I am sure they are both tired from their trip.” The king huffed, but waved an impervious hand.

“Get out of my sight,” he hissed. Amrie narrowed her eyes and smiled sharply. Two can play at that game… She bowed.

“A pleasure to meet you and your council, Your Majesty,” she gritted out with as much sarcasm as possible. Half of the dwarrow’s eyebrows shot up. The other half glared at her. The king looked like he was about to explode. Frerin quickly bowed, muttering something in their secret language, and then grabbing her arm and nearly dragging her out of the room.  

They hurried in silence until they reached a door that was much like Dis’. Frerin pushed open the door, and slammed it shut behind them.

“What the hell was that,” he hissed. Amrie straightened.

“What the hell is going on with your grandfather?”

“That isn’t an answer to my question.” 

“I may not know your language, but I am able to tell when someone’s saying something unkind,” Amrie bit out. “Now what is going on with your grandfather? Has this been going on for a long time?”

“Oh, so you just decided to sass back to a king. Where you even thinking? And there’s nothing wrong with my grandfather!” Amrie bristled.

“Alright, I’ll concede that it wasn’t the smartest move on Middle Earth to provoke a king.” Frerin scoffed. “But- I am a hobbit. We don’t have royalty Frerin! Just because I’m not drowning in jewels and am not a dwarf doesn’t mean that I am not a living creature! So STOP LYING TO ME AND TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOUR GRANDFATHER!” Frerin deflated, and looked away. 

“There’s nothing wrong with him.” Amrie scowled. “And I know.”

“Do you really, or are you just saying that?” Frerin still looked away, his eyes slightly glazed over. Amrie titled her head. “Did you even tell them about me?” Silence. Amrie scoffed. 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed. Whenever you decide to not be such arse and stop lying to me and stop defending your people’s, your grandfather’s, prejudice views, we can talk.” Frerin snapped his head back to her, eyes blazing.

“I AM NOT defending them!” He roared. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you ARE!”

“I JUST DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO HAPPEN TO YOU!” Amrie’s eyes grew wide, and she took a step back. Frerin let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t understand, the life in the court is dangerous and tricky. Just because you are a Bounder, doesn’t make you impervious to the world.” Amrie felt a burning sensation rise up in her chest.

“You don’t think I know that?” She whispered. “You don’t think that I believe that bad things can happen to anyone, no matter how well, how hard you fight?” Her voice rose up higher, “Frerin, my parents were EATEN ALIVE by goblins. My own brother blamed me for their deaths, even though I had nothing to do with them dying.” Frerin paled and took a step back. Amrie blinked back tears. She swallowed, and continued with a shaky voice, “So don’t you dare insinuate that I don’t understand the cruelties of this world, because I do, Frerin.” Amrie’s voice broke. “I do.” 

Amrie looked up, wiping her tears roughly. Frerin eyes were wide and unblinking. Amrie shook her head.

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” she said, shouldering past Frerin. She quickly found the bedroom, and unbuckled her bracer angrily. She set it on top of her chest, and threw herself onto the bed, uncaring about her dirty clothes. Pulling a fur on top of herself, she curled up and feel asleep hearing her sobs.

Chapter Text

Frerin covered his eyes and took a shuddering breath. There it was. The reason behind all of Issenbras’ meaningful hints. “Take care of her…. Be kind to her….. she’s been through a lot…. I can’t tell you, it’s not my place to tell, but you need to be kind to her…..” Damn hobbits and all their secrets! Frerin thought, ignoring his own hypocrisy. He stomped towards a cabinet, flinging open to door to reveal a bottle of amber-colored liquid. Pouring himself a glass, he threw it back, relishing in the burning sensation. He poured himself another glass. He was going to need it.

__________

Several hours (and glassfuls of whisky, but no-one needed to know that) later, Frerin stumbled into his bedroom, feeling slightly remorseful. He  tried to soften his footsteps when he heard Amrie’s soft breaths. Carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and placing his hand on Amrie’s hip, he whispered,

“Amrie? Are you awake?”

Silence.

Frerin sighed and noticed the tear tracks on Amrie’s face, feeling a remorseful twang. His gaze drifted to Amrie’s feet. He smiled ruefully, remembering how fiercely Amrie had stated that dirty feet did not belong on the bedroll, never mind that they were traveling in the wilderness. He stood up, going over to the pitcher in the corner of the room. Tipping it a bit, he wetted a towel and padded back to the bed, sitting at the end of it so that he could see her face. He carefully lifted her foot, wiping off the grim accumulated through their travels.

“We aren’t supposed to talk about it,” Frerin said softly, his mind going to the stern orders of his father. ‘We must act strong, Frerin. Nobody can know….’ He shook his head. 

“He isn’t well, Amrie,” Frerin whispered. The silence seemed cloying, oppressive. “He hasn’t been well since before the fall of Erebor. And I’m afraid, Amrie”-he swallowed- “I’m afraid that he will send someone out to kill you. And I love you so much, I can’t lose you. I’ve already lost my home, I can’t lose you too.” The confession rang through the air. He shook his head. 

He gently set her foot down and picked up the other one, wiping away the dirt.

__________

Amrie woke up to a pounding knock at the door. She rubbed her eyes blearily. She rolled out of bed, hoarsely calling out,

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Quickly buckling on her bracer, she stumbled a bit to the door, and cleared her throat before she pushed at the door. Surprisingly, it swung it open. A dwarf bowed to her. 

“My lady, I was instructed by Princess Dis to show you to the royal dinning hall.” Amrie blinked.

“What time is it? I mean- what day is it?”

“It is the morning of the thirty-sixth day of Midsummer, my lady.” Amrie’s mind swirled. The thirty-sixth day of Midsummer! No wonder I’m hungry- I slept for a full day plus some! 

“Would you please wait while I change into some clean clothes?” The dwarf nodded. Turning around, Amrie ran back into the room and headed straight towards the pitcher in the corner. She sighed. I wish I had time for a real soak, she thought wistfully. Shaking her head, Amrie quickly stripped out of her shirt and trousers, soaking a towel and wiping herself- taking away the worst of the dirt and grime. After that, she threw on the first pair of trousers and clean blouse she could find in her trunk. Pulling out a vest, she tugged at the laces until it wrapped around her body.

She looked in the mirror and stared at her reflection. 

“Alright then, hop on it, my girl,” she said to herself. Then turning around, she walked towards the door and swung it open.

__________

Amrie quietly followed the dwarf through the well-lit hallways, carefully taking note of where they were going so that she could remember how to find the dinning hall again. As they reached a room filled with long tables, the dwarf bowed slightly and turned to walked away.

“Excuse me,” she ventured out. The dwarf stopped turned his head slightly towards her.

“Yes, my lady?”

“What is your name?” The dwarf turned around and stared at her. Amrie stammered out, “It’s- it’s just because you were so nice to wait for me while it got dressed and you showed me where the dining hall was and I just want to thank you properly-“ A soft chuckle interrupted her rambling.

“My name is Sten, son of Stygve, my lady.” Amrie bowed her head. 

“Well, Sten, son of Stygve, I thank you for your patience and your kindness,” she said firmly. Sten chuckled. 

“I was my pleasure, little lady”- he bowed, then swept his hand towards the tables- “If you’ll sit down, on of the chefs will bring out breakfast for you.” Amrie nodded thankfully, and turned towards the tables and sat down. After a moment, a dam came up with a streaming plate of sausages and flat disks made with what looked like fried shredded potatoes. Amrie’s stomach growled. 

“Thank you!” She cheerfully told the dam. The dam’s eyes widened, and she gave a hasty bob of her head. 

“Of- of course, my lady,” she stammered out. Then turning her heel, the dam basically ran out of the room. Amrie cocked her eyebrow, but decided not to comment. Picking up a fork, she dug into her breakfast.

__________

A shadow covered Amrie as she scraped the last bite off her plate. She stuck the forkful into her mouth, and turned around to a beaming Dis. Amrie swallowed hastily. 

“Good morning, Dis.” Dis smiled even wider.

“Good morning to you, too, Amrie.” She jerked her head towards Amrie’s cleared off plate. “Your breakfast was to your satisfaction?” 

“It was perfect,” Amrie said while nodding. Dis looked pleased.

“Wonderful! Now, how would you like a tour of the halls?” Amrie nodded wordlessly, standing up and picking up her plate. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Dis said carelessly, waving her hand. “You just leave your plate, one of the servers will pick it up.” She swept towards the door. Amrie stared at the plate guiltily, but turned and followed Dis out. 

They walked in silence for a moment, Dis easily ignoring the staring dwarrow. Amrie cleared her throat.

“How is Filli doing?” Dis turned her head slightly toward her.

“Much better, thanks to your help,” she said, turning her head back. “Hopefully he will be back to his rambunctious self in the next couple of days.” Amrie smiled happily. Dis hesitated, but continued, “There have been some of our people with the same symptoms, but thanks to your medicine and instructions, they’ve been getting better quickly.”

“Well, I am glad that they are healing quickly,” Amrie said softly, continuing to follow Dis. They went up and down the halls, Dis pointing out different rooms and Amrie carefully keeping track of her bearings. As Dis was pointing out the scribe’s hall, and the pictures of the family she fully stopped and looked at Amrie. Amrie swallowed. Oh Yavanna I hope she didn’t hear about what happened in the throne room…. 

“You know,” Dis began lightly, “Frerin has been terrified of opossums ever since Thorin put one that was playing dead on his bed and Frerin sat on it.” 

Amrie choked. Dis looked at her with a carefully innocent face. 

“W-what.” Dis smirked.

“He also accidentally cut off a bit of our cousin Dain’s finger during his second sparring practice and tried to get me to glue it back onto his hand. He was a blubbering mess and was like ‘Oh please, dear sister you’ve GOT to help meeee. Father and Uncle will shave me.’”

Amrie couldn’t help it- she barked out a laugh. The dwarrow around them stopped and stared at her. Amrie slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the giggles at bay to no avail. Dis smirked even more and let out a little laugh, grabbing Amrie’s hand and pulling out of the scribe’s hall.

They both cackled when they were out of the quiet hall, both of them picking a wall and leaning against it. After a couple of moments Amrie opened her eyes and looked at Dis, giving her a mischievous grin.

“You do know that Frerin and my cousin Issenbras put honey in my knife sheathes the second time he visited the Shire,” Amrie queried suggestively. Dis straightened up and her eyes filled with an unholy glee.

“Well, sister”- she said as she linked her arm with Amrie’s- “I think it’s high time to repay him, don’t you think?” Amrie’s eyes danced and she nodded. They both laughed, much to the terror of the dwarrow around them.

__________

Frerin stumbled into his room, rubbing his eyes. He looked around and sighed when he realized that Amrie was not in bed. Shaking his head, he began to take off his clothes and get ready for bed. He stepped towards his closet to grab a clean sleeping shirt.

__________

Amrie took a shot of the dwarven whiskey in the semi-darkness of Frerin’s “pantry” (Personally she thought that it was a glorified armoire, but she didn’t want to hurt Dis’ feelings by saying such). She hastily smothered a cough, damn it that stuff burns! Dis smirked. 

“Yavanna,” Amrie hacked out, “Why the hell is this stuff so strong?” Dis cackled.

“Firebeard whiskey.” She stated proudly. “Villi’s speciality.” She poured some more in Amrie’s glass. Amrie gave her a flat stare.

“You are not getting me drunk.” 

“And here I thought hobbit’s tolerance for alcohol was high, according to the stories.”

“Those are about the male hobbits that are forty!”

“Come on,” Dis wheedled, “You’ve only had one shot, what’s one more?” Amrie opened her mouth to retort back, when an unholy screech resounded though out the hall. She threw up her hand in exasperation.

“Bebother and confusticate you dwarrow!” Amrie hissed. “We’ve missed it!” Dis slapped a hand over her mouth and smothered a chortle. They both stilled when the heard a door slam and feet pounding against the floor.

They heard Thorin’s voice rumble out, “Frerin! Is everything alright?” Frerin’s reply was shrill.

“Am I alright! You turg! Kulhu îzunmurkh?!”

“What! What did I do!?”

“What did you do?! You turg, you put ten damned opossums in my closet!” Amrie and Dis both smothered their laughter in their hands as they listened to Thorin’s stammered reply. Dis tugged on Amrie’s sleeve.

“Come, sister- let’s go to my rooms and you can tell me more about your cousin Issenbras and my brother Thorin,” she whispered. Amrie grinned.

“You go first,” she whispered back, lightly pushing Dis’ shoulder. Dis grinned and pushed open the door. 

Chapter Text

Amrie sat up, chest heaving. She looked around frantically and slightly relaxed when she saw Dis fast asleep on the couch next to her. 

“Good morning.” Amrie released the blade on her bracer and leapt up, swinging towards the voice. A sleep tussled Villi took a step back and held up both of his hands. Amrie let out a breath.

“You scared me,” she muttered as she began twisting the screw to retract the blade. Villi raised an eyebrow and motioned towards her bracer. 

“May I?” Amrie blinked, and nodded, holding her arm out. Villi came up and carefully turned her arm, studying the bracer. He looked up at her. “This is dwarven craftsmanship.” He stated. Amrie nodded.

“Aye, only the best weapons for a Bounder.” Villi tilted his head.

“A bounder? What is that?”

“Well, me,” Amrie said, smiling wryly. “We could be considered the army for the Shire, though what we mostly do is border control. My bracer is how you can tell who’s a Bounder.”

“And the missing finger?” Amrie shrugged.

“Another way you can tell who’s a fighter and who’s an innocent. It also gets in the way of the bracer blade, so it’s mostly practical.” She smirked. “Frerin and Thorin witnessed my cousin and I initiating into the Bounders and almost fainted when our fingers were cut off.” Villi shifted. 

“Well,” he started, turning and quietly coughing into his fist, “that must’ve been a sight.”

“It was.” An awkward silence passed over them. Amrie shifted. “Well, I’ll get out of yours and Dis’ home, I’m really sorry I fell asleep I didn’t mean to but Dis had me drink quite a bit of whiskey and I….” Villi chuckled and reached over, patting her shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Frerin used do the same after a hard council meeting.” As the memory of the first night in Ered Luin came up Amrie felt a rush of resentment and tried not to grimace. Villi raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No.” Amrie bit out shortly. Villi raised both his eyebrows. 

“Right,” he said dryly, “Because I’m very convinced right now.” Amrie opened her mouth to give a retort, and then closed it. Villi stared at her expectantly. Amrie threw up her hands.

“It’s just Frerin hardly gave me any details about you all, his family- his people. I feel a bit blindsided, that’s all.” Villi hummed and nodded. Amrie gripped the fabric of her trousers. “Do you,” she paused and considered what she was about to ask, “Do you know what is going on with the king?” Villi’s eyes grew stormy and he looked away.

“We aren’t supposed to talk about it.” He said carefully. Amrie scowled, and Villi held up his hands. “But,” he continued, “you are part of the family, and Frerin should have told you before you married him.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a failing of Durin’s line. We dwarrow call it gold-sickness, the race of men call it dragon sickness. It’s the same disease- a disease of the mind. It drives a dwarrow mad with greed. Thror has it. He has it bad.”

“Oh,” said Amrie faintly. “How long has he had it?” Villi looked at Dis sadly. He reached over and smoothed a hand over her hair.

“Sometime before the sacking of Erebor.” Amrie quickly calculated in her head and realized that Frerin would have been at least ten years old when Thror got the sickness. Her heart broke.

“Oh.” Amrie bit her lip. “I need to go talk to Frerin. Right now.” Villi gave her a sad smile and nodded his head. Amrie bobbed her head toward Villi, and ran out the door.

Amrie dashed down the halls, ignoring the gasps and mutters rising in her wake. As she reached the last hallway, she came to an abrupt stop as angry voices rose. 

“Frerin, please, I’m asking you-“

“No, Dori! You know what will happen if Thror finds out that I’m even talking to you!”

“Ori is all I have of mother left, please have your wife come and see him!”

“NO. I have you told no, and you need to leave right now.” SLAM! 

A frustrated growled resounded through the hallway, as heavy-sounding footsteps stomped away. Amrie peeked her head around the corner and sighed as she looked at the empty hallway. She quietly walked up the the door and pushed it open. 

As she stood in the door frame, Amrie watched as Frerin rubbed his forehead and tossed back a glassful of whiskey. She padded up to him, slipped her arms around him, and laid her head against Frerin’s back. Frerin exhaled loudly. 

“You weren’t in bed last night.” He muttered. Amrie bit her lip.

“Dis and I ended up talking late into the night.” Frerin spun around and grabbed her shoulders. Amrie straightened and looked him in the eye. He looked intently back.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I have,” Amrie stated. Frerin rubbed his forehead. 

“Why?” Amrie took a step back.

“Why, Frerin? Isn’t it obvious? For the last four years you haven’t told me anything about your people, your language, you customs. Hell, you didn’t even tell me about your family. You have thrown me in a place where everyone glares at me and whispers behind my back. And instead of talking to me, you’ve left me alone to figure it out.” Silence. 

Frerin opened and closed his mouth as a heavy knock resounded through the room. Frerin growled and strode towards the door, swinging it open.

“Brother,” Thorin’s deep voice rumbled. Amrie closed her eyes. Frerin turned around walked quickly over to Amrie, grabbing her hands. 

“We will talk about this later, I promise.” Amrie sighed and nodded. Frerin carefully leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. Then, he spun around and walked out.

Amrie sighed again and grabbed the whisky bottle, pouring herself a drink. She tossed it back and vaguely thought that she should probably take a much needed bath.

__________

Amrie clutched her basket to her, looking around the market with wide eyes. The market was even bigger than the Tookborough market- and that was considered the largest market in the Shire! It was a lot louder too, many of the venders promoting their wares and laughing with their customers. As Amrie walked past the miscellaneous booths, she felt the weight of everyone’s stares and heard the mutters rise up. 

Amrie stopped in front of a glass blower’s booth and stared, entranced. Glass was expensive in the Shire and it came only in the form of window panes. This booth was filled with different colored glass bottles, cups, and pretty figurines that looked ethereal. The glass blower running the booth smiled and picked up two glasses, gently bringing them together. They produced a bright chime that reminded Amrie of twinkling stars. She smiled and took a step closer. The glass blower laughed and motioned towards the cups. 

Amrie opened her mouth to ask for the price, when she heard a loud commotion. She swirled around and saw a large, burly dwarf shaking a young looking dwarf. Amrie saw that everyone around them was shaking their heads and standing by. She ran towards them. 

“You thief! This is the last time you are going to steal from me- you hear me! I’m going to get the guards to cut off your hands!” 

“Wait!” Amrie cried. The burly dwarf spun towards her. He looked up and down and sneered. 

“What do you want, sharbagân?”

“What has he done?”

“And why would you care? You’re obviously not his mother.” A snicker arose in the rapidly gathering crowd. Amrie stiffened her back and looked the dwarf square in the eye. 

“Because he’s a tween, and you’re threatening to have his hands cut off,” Amrie said evenly. “Now I’ll ask again- what has he done?” 

“This thief,” the burly dwarf began, shaking the boy, “stole two loaves of bread from me today. He stolen several more from me this month. And I’ve finally caught the little trouble maker.” Amrie looked over the boy. Big, desperate brown eyes stared back at her, his long red hair braided into a single braid. A tiny bit of scruff dusted his chin. His clothes were worn and tattered at the hems.

“Is this true?” Amrie asked the boy. He shifted, his eyes darting back and forth. 

“Yes.” He muttered mulishly. A murmur arose. The burly dwarf looked triumphant.

“You see, this little blighter deserves to have his hands cut off!” Amrie looked the dwarf in the eye.

“And if someone was to pay for the stolen goods, would you let him go?” The dwarf shifted. 

“I suppose I would have to, since there would be no reason to keep him in the cells,” the dwarf sneered. “But no one would pay for this good-for-nothing. He belongs in the cells.” 

“How much?” The dwarf sputtered. 

“Did you not hear me, sharbagân? He’s a good-for-nothing. Once a thief, always a thief I say.”

“How much?” The dwarf’s face grew pinched. 

“Sixteen silver coins, give or take.” Amrie nodded and dug into her pocket for her coin pouch. Gasps arose from the crowd. She counted out sixteen silver coins and held them out to the dwarf. He reached out, but hesitated. 

“Take it,” Amrie said firmly. “Or are you really going to refuse good money so that you can cut off a tweens hands and place them in a cell?” The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, and he snatched the money from Amrie’s hand, shoving the boy towards Amrie. Amrie quickly twisted so that she cushioned the boy from the fall- something she instantly regretted.

“OOF,” Amrie wheezed. She watched the dwarf push through the crowd and then rolled slightly on her side to tip the boy off. As she felt the boulder weight ease off of her, she exhaled and pushed herself off from the ground. Turning around she offered a hand to the boy. He grabbed it and pulled himself up. Amrie placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You should go home now, before he changes his mind,” Amrie began kindly. “And I wouldn’t show your face around that dwarf’s booth for a long time.” Big eyes stared at her. Amrie patted his shoulder and sighed, turning around to walk away.

“Yer the hobbit.” Amrie turned back around.

“What?” The boy shifted slightly. 

“Yer the hobbit. Prince Frerin’s wife.”

“I am,” Amrie said evenly.

“You helped the healers heal Prince Filli from that disease.”

“I did.” The boy shifted again. He looked the ground, scuffing it slightly with his boot. 

“Would you- would you come and help heal my baby brother?” Amrie tilted her head. The boy looked up with a defiant glint in his eye. “It wouldn’t be a service, you see, we would pay you. We don’t have much at the moment, but we would pay you.”

“We?”

“Me and my older brother, Dori.” Amrie blinked several times as the memory of the morning came to mind. 

“Your little brother wouldn’t happen to be named Ori, would he?” The boy’s eyes narrowed. 

“How do you know that,” he demanded. Amrie placed a hand on her hip.

“Because I overhead my husband and your older brother fighting this morning.”

“Ah,” the boy said, looking away. Amrie shook her head and went up to him, patting his shoulder. He looked back at her. Amrie smiled slightly and shrugged a shoulder.

“C’mon, take me to your brothers and I’ll see what I can do,” Amrie began kindly. “Though it would be nice to know your name.” The boy looked startled and bowed.

“It’s Nori, lady hobbit.” Amrie laughed. 

“And mine is Amrie- not hobbit or whatever the word that the baker called me.” Nori shifted.

“It’s our word for hobbit,” he muttered. Amrie raised an eyebrow.

“The nice word, or the rude word?” Nori shifted again, and then shrugged his shoulders and gave Amrie a sheepish smile. Amrie rolled her eyes. “I knew it.” She shook her head and sighed. “Well come on then, take me to where you live and I’ll see what I can do.” Nori gave her a mischievous grin and darted off. Amrie sighed again and took off behind him.

__________

Amrie and Nori dashed through the market, ducking under booths and dodging from narrowly running into others. As they ran further away from the markets, Amrie noticed that the alleyways  were more cramped and the people looked poorer. Nori stopped abruptly in front of a tiny stone house and Amrie skidded to avoid running into him. He turned around and gave Amrie a wry smile.

“Home sweet home,” he said sarcastically, pushing the door open. Amrie swallowed slightly, but followed him into the house. 

The first thing that Amrie felt was the cold. Even though she was warm from running, she shivered. The second thing was the sound of a baby squalling. Nori motioned for her to follow and Amrie followed him into the kitchen. A grey-headed dwarf sat by a dying fire, rocking a baby. He looked at Nori.

“Nori,” the dwarf began testily, “Kulhîn zûr zu? It does not take that long to grab some”- he looked at Amrie- “bread.” He finished weakly. He looked back and forth between the two. “What-“

“Dori,” Nori interrupted, “this is Amrie, Prince Frerin’s wife.” Amrie took a step forward. 

“I heard that your brother was sick, and I would like to help him, if I may.” Dori looked towards the window with a panicked look on his face, but nodded his head and lifted the baby towards her. Amrie stepped towards him and took him. She sucked in a breath when she saw him. She looked up at Dori.

“How long had he been like this?” 

“A little over two weeks, but he’s been getting sicker and sicker these past few days.” Dori said tightly. Amrie nodded and wrapped the thin blanket tighter around little Ori. She looked up. 

“I’m going to need tulsi, ginger, and honey. We will also need more firewood, warm cloths, and a chicken so we can make a broth.” Dori and Nori looked at each other. Amrie tried desperately not to sigh. Shifting Ori to one arm, she pulled out her coin purse from her pocket and tossed it towards Dori. “You can use this for now, and we’ll work something out- but your brother needs these things or I can’t do anything for him.” Dori nodded sharply and started to hand the pouch to Nori. Amrie shook her head. 

“I would say that you need to go, Dori,” Amrie said apologetically. “Let’s just say that, erm, mine and Nori’s meeting wasn’t the most auspicious.” Dori threw his hands up in the air and rounded on Nori.

“YOU! You had to steal again!” Nori lifted his hands up, taking a step back and letting loose a round of khuzdul. Amrie barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes, and then realized that the two weren’t paying attention to her and rolled them anyway. Dwarrow and their heads of stone! 

After a minute of listening to the two yell back and forth, Amrie stomped her foot on the floor. Dori and Nori shut their mouths and turned towards her. 

“Alright you two, since it seems like you’ve got that out of your systems, would Dori please go to the market and buy the supplies needed? Your bother is needing the fever tea as soon as possible.” Both of them looked guilty and Dori nodded, tying the money pouch to his belt and leaving. Nori sidled up next to Amrie and gave her a mischievous grin. 

“Now see here, we need to keep you around. Dori’s never calmed down from a strop so quickly.” Amrie gave Nori a sour look.

“I think that it has all to do with your brother and nothing to do with me.” She said tartly. “And don’t think you get off scot-free from taking care of your brother either. Sit down.” 

“What.” Amrie suppressed a sigh. 

“Sit down.” Nori looked a bit scared, but sat down. “Now unlace your tunic.”

“EXCUSE ME,” Nori spluttered. Amrie rolled her eyes. 

“Mind out of the gutter.” She ordered, motioning towards the room. “This room is too cold for someone as young as your brother, and dwarves run hotter than hobbits. I’m going to tuck him against your chest and that will hopefully keep him warm enough until Dori comes back with the supplies. Now unlace it.” 

Nori grumbled but obeyed her. Amrie carefully transferred Ori into the inside of Nori’s tunic and tugged the laces closed. She then sat down in a chair close to them. As Ori felt the heat from his brother, he quieted down a bit. 

Trying to keep herself from shivering, Amrie dug into her other pocket and pulled out her tatting shuttle. Wrapping the bit of string from the shuttle around her hand, she began the rhythmic motions of creating the knots. After bit, the pattern started emerging and Nori leaned forward a bit to better see what she was doing.

“That’s pretty.” Amrie looked up and smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, holding it up so Nori could see it better. “I can never seem to keep still for long periods of time, but I’ve found that this helps.” Nori laughed.

“Same- I think Dori would want to invest in your lacemaking just so that he could not have an aneurism before the age of one hundred,” he said ruefully. Amrie laughed too and began to reply when the front door opened with a bang. Nori and Amrie both leapt onto their feet and Amrie released the blade in her bracer. They both tensed as footsteps thudded through the hallway. Amrie prepared herself to tackle whoever was going to walk into the door way when Dori appeared with his arms full and a bushel basket full of black rocks. Amrie blinked. Then she straightened up and began retracting the blade. Dori’s eyes narrowed.

“What are you two doing?” 

“Nothing.” Amrie and Nori both replied. They both looked at each other, and then back at Dori. 

“Sure.”

“We were just talking about tatting lace,” Amrie said. Dori grunted and shook his head, but began laying the packages onto the table. Amrie went up and picked up the tulsi and started ripping it apart. Turning towards Dori, she asked, “Is there a pot, or even better a teapot, that I could use to make the fever tea?” Dori smiled and turned to one of the cabinets and pulled out an ornately embellished tea pot. He held it up. 

“Will this do?” 

“That’s perfect,” Amrie said emphatically. She reached out and held the tea pot carefully in both hands. “It’s a beautiful tea pot- it would make all the grandmothers jealous it would.” Dori smiled for the first time. 

“Do you like tea, Lady Amrie?”

“Just Amrie- and yes I love tea. I’ve been trying to make my own personal family blend but I don’t have it right yet.” Dori beamed. Nori slapped a hand to his forehead.

“Mahal save us all,” he muttered. “Now you’ve done it.” Dori whipped around and glared at him. Nori shrunk back a little bit.

“If you’re going to make smart comments- you might as well fix the fire,” Dori snipped. Nori muttered something under is breath but stood up. Amrie looked around.

“Where is the wood? Is it outside?” Dori and Nori both stared at her. Then, they both began to laugh. Amrie tried not to scowl and when Dori noticed he waved his hands. 

“Ah- ahem, I’m sorry my lady,” Dori began apologetically. He pointed to the basket with black rocks. “That’s the fuel for the fire- it’s coal. It burns hotter and for longer, and is much cheaper than wood.” Amrie blinked. Then she shook her head in disbelief. 

“Only a dwarf would think of burning rocks,” she said wryly. Nori laughed and bent down next to the fireplace while Dori shrugged. Then they all turned to their respective tasks. 

“You know, that’s a nifty blade you’ve got.” Amrie paused from pouring the honey over the tulsi. Nori looked up from the fire and gave her a mischievous grin. “How much would you say it would sell in the markets for?” Amrie jaw dropped and Dori stormed over to Nori and cuffed him over the head. A stream of Khuzdul ran out from his mouth. Nori’s hands flew up.

“If you’re just looking at it as a bracer- it would probably be around forty silver coins,” Amrie inputted. Dori and Nori both got quiet and turned to stare at her. “But,” she continued, “the sentimental value is priceless, and it makes it worth much more in my opinion.” Nori narrowed his eyes and stood up. 

“May I see it again.” Amrie stifled a sigh and outstretched her left arm, pushing up the sleeve  so that the bracer was fully revealed. Nori took a couple steps closer. He leaned down a little bit to see it better.

“It’s a spring-loaded blade, I flip the switch on the back of my hand and the only way to retract it is screwing it back.”

“And yer missing finger?” Dori slapped Nori on the back of the head. 

“Manners,” he scolded. Amrie bit back a smile. Nori rolled his eyes.

“And your missing finger?”

“Watch,” Amrie said as she released the blade. It came out with a smooth and barely there click. She held up her hand. 

“Your finger would get in the way of the blade.” Nori marveled. Amrie nodded.

“Aye, it’s a sign of my people of who I am and what I can do.” Dori narrowed his eyes slightly. 

“And what do you do?” 

“I protect my people, no matter the personal cost,” Amrie said evenly, turning back towards the tea pot and meticulously pouring honey over it. She counted the slow spoonfuls and after a bit heard steps going back and forth in the room. She quickly retracted the bracer blade, and began snapping the ginger root into small pieces and smashing it with her hands. Dumping the ginger into the tea pot, she poured some water over it and placed it close to the fire. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too late for little Ori.

__________

Frerin was frantic. He had managed to bribe Thorin into taking most of his evening duties to enjoy a much-needed dinner with Amrie. Six o’ clock rolled around, no Amrie. Nine o’ clock went by- still no Amrie. That was two meals missing. He at first went by Dis’ apartments casually, hoping that she had just lost time with Dis. But when there was only a rambunctious Filli bouncing around with Dis the full on panic began. He raced down the hallways to the market, hoping and praying that he would find her- and not her body. 

As Frerin hit the markets, he slowed his run to a slightly slower fast walk. Carefully pushing by people, he looked from isle to isle, but no Amrie. 

“If yer lookin’ for ye wife- she went with the middle Ri brother.” Frerin swung around to stare at a bored looking dwarrow dam running a textiles booth. 

“What.” The dwarrow dam rolled her eyes slightly and motioned toward the west side of town. 

“If yer lookin’ for ye wife- she went with the middle Ri brother,” she said slowly. Frerin barely resisted rolling his eyes. Then it registered what she had said.

“Shit,” he bit out, picking up to a run again. As he raced down the narrow alleyways, he prayed that Thror would never find out. It was a vain prayer, but by Mahal he hoped one of the Valar were listening. As he came up to the Ri residence, he stopped to quickly straighten his tunic. Then, he walked up to the door and pounded on it.

___________

Amrie snuggled a sleeping Ori close. She felt his forehead and looked at Dori, who was hovering nearby. 

“His fever broke.” She whispered. Dori collapsed into his chair. Nori put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” whispered Dori brokenly. “Thank you so, so much.” Amrie nodded her head and was about to tell him how to keep Ori from being sick again, when 

BANG BANG BANG. 

Everyone shot up onto their feet. Dori held up his hand, and walked out of the room. 

“Get behind me,” said Nori lowly as shouts were heard through the entryway. Amrie tensed slightly but obeyed, shifting Ori to one arm and releasing her bracer blade. Footsteps pounded, and then a wild looking Frerin burst through the entrance. He was followed closely by a harried looking Dori. Amrie relaxed and stood up straight. 

“Frey?” Frerin’s eyes narrowed. He pointed behind him. 

“We are leaving,” he bit out. “Now.” Amrie bit back a scowl but handed Ori to Nori. She retracted the bracer blade and grabbed her basket. As the passed by Dori, she put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Ori will need the place kept warm for at least two weeks.” She said softly. Dori nodded. “You’ll also need to keep an eye on him- he had a fever for so long I can’t tell if it affected his brain or heart at all.” Dori nodded again. 

“Thank you.” Dori straightened. "It's not much of a payment, doesn't mean much- but I am Dori, son of Ri, at your service." Nori took a step forward with the most serious look on his face Amrie has seen all day.

"And I am Nori, son of Ri, at your service."

"Amaryllis." Amrie bit her lip and bobbed down slightly whispering a soft thank you as she walked out of the kitchen. 

___________

They walked all the way to the royal housing in silence. Amrie grabbed the handles of her basket and bit her lip.

“Frerin?” Frerin stiffened.

“No,” he gritted out. “Not here, not now. When we get into our rooms, we are going to have a talk.” Amrie gritted her teeth and took a deep breath in, and exhale.

Deep breath in, and exhale. Deep breath in, and exhale. deep breath in, and exhale.

They quickly arrived to Frerin’s rooms and Frerin opened the door for Amrie, letting her go in first and following behind her. Amrie put her basket down by one of the chairs and turned towards Frerin. He was staring at her with an almost dead expression.

“Do you know just how much you’ve fucked up?” Amrie mouth dropped. Never in the four years that she knew Frerin, had she ever heard him curse like that. 

“Excuse me?” Frerin began to pace. 

“You know what happened in the throne room could be blamed on the fact that you were basically dead on your feet, but this? Oh, this takes the ruby let me tell you something...”

“Frerin! What on earth?!”

“Do you know what you’ve done!” Amrie straightened and put her hands on her hips.

“I saved a baby from dying of scarlet fever.” Frerin deflated. He looked defeated.

“In the Shire aye, that what you had done. But here- you went against the king’s word. And going against the king’s word is paramount to treason.” He sat down and buried his face into his hands. Amrie jaw dropped. 

“Treason? Frerin! Why would helping the Ri’s be going against the king’s word?!” Frerin looked up and stared blankly at the wall.

“Because,” he said tiredly, “their mother was my father’s sister, and when Dori was around eight the king decided to erase them from our family line. Anyone caught helping them would be considered a traitor and would be executed.” Amrie sat down limply next to him.

“I didn’t know.” 

“I know you didn’t, but the king doesn’t care. When he finds out, because he will somehow, he will order you to be executed immediately and you will either be hung or thrown down an empty mine shaft.” 

“I didn’t know.” Amrie said weakly. Frerin grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. She looked at him desperately. “Isn’t- isn’t there anything we could say? Children are important to dwarrow, right? Maybe we could say I was helping a child as all good dwarrow are supposed to.” Frerin shook his head.

“It wouldn’t work,” he said tiredly. “The king’s word is law here, and whatever he says, goes. By law, no one would help the Ri family. And you helped them.” They sat in silence for a while. Amrie closed her eyes and felt burning tears slip out. 

“I wish we had never left the Shire.” 

“As do I.” Frerin sat up. He grabbed Amrie other hand and held is just as tightly as the first one.  Amrie opened her eyes.

“The only thing we can do now is wait,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to ever leave these rooms alone. I know how well you fight, but I don’t want you to go missing and then find your body a week later. Have Dis, or even Sten, son of Stygve with you at all times.” Amrie nodded. Frerin sighed and carefully wiped her eyes before grabbing the hand that he had let go. Amrie closed her eyes again, and wished that she was among the green, rolling hills of the Shire.

Chapter Text

Frerin rubbed his forehead. Squabbling voices rose as the council members argued and Frerin reminded himself that strangling the council was not a good thing. He sighed.

“We need more space for our children!”

“Aye! And more resources! We are no where near the wealth amassed in Erebor…”

“The dragon came because of the wealth amassed in Erebor,” inputted Thorin coolly. The council members spluttered. 

“Melhekhel, are you going to let the nûrayad speak to us like that, are you?” Frerin shoved back from the table and stood up.

“You forget yourself, Bjarke, son of Bjarni,” Frerin hissed. “Thorin maybe the nûrayad, but he is still higher-ranking than you.” The dwarf in question looked like he had eaten a sour lemon. Frerin turned towards the rest of the council, eyes flashing. “You may have forgotten already, but dragons are called by wealth. We are safe and well-fed, and perhaps one day we will have enough to be prosperous. But we should not risk ourselves for gold under the guise of the needs of our children. Not again.” He sat down. The council muttered among themselves, and then the Head of the Guilds spoke up,

“What you say is fine, but how is the royal household supposed to support itself?” Frerin carefully kept his eyes from wandering towards Thror.

“Aye, that!”

“He speaks the truth, we can’t be expected to continue to finance the royal household!”

“We have made good money in selling weaponry, and smithy services in the towns of men,” Frerin said stiffly. The Head of Treasury, Groin, shook his head.

“That is true, lad, but it isn’t enough. Not if the expenses continue to look like they have been these last couple of years.” Frerin again resisted the urge to look at Thror. 

“We will send out scouts.” Everyone turned towards Thrain. He gave them a gimlet stare. “We will send out scouts, and see if Khazad-dûm is even able to be recovered. Before that, nothing will happen.” The council grumbled, but didn’t dare to argue against the word of the rayad.

“But who will be the scouts?” Everyone looked at the Thrain. 

“The sharbagân.” Thror’s voice rang through the room. Frerin’s heart dropped. 

“No,” he said desperately. He looked at Thrain. “Adad, please.” 

“That sharbagân went against MY word and helped the Ri brothers,” Thror thundered. Frerin stared at Thrain. He looked torn. 

“Adad.”

“The shar- the hobbit will be one of the scouts.” Frerin opened his mouth to argue, to plea, when Thrain gave him one of his piercing stares. “That will be her punishment for helping the Ri brothers, instead of death.” 

Silence. 

Then the room erupted. Frerin watched as Thrain leaned towards Fundin and whispered something in his ear. He looked thunderous, but nodded his head. Thrain stood up and the room got silent. 

“Balin, you and your brother Dwalin will be the other two scouts.” Balin nodded seriously. Bjarke, son of Bjarni stood up. 

“I would like my son, Jarke to be one of the scouts.” Frerin pushed back from the table and stood up.

“Wherever my wife goes, I go too.” Frerin felt a lot of glares hit him. Thrain looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded.

“Alright- that makes five scouts. A good amount.” Everyone turned towards the king. He nodded.

“Let it be done as my son says,” he said. Frerin let out a sign of relief as several of the council members began to clamor. Thorin caught his eyes and gave a small motion with his hand. Go. Frerin nodded and turned around, walking out of the room. As soon as the doors shut behind him, he broke into a run.

__________

Frerin skidded to a stop in front of Dis’ door. He took a deep breath as he heard childish laughter, and pushed the door open. As it swung open he watched the welcoming sight of a laughing Amrie scooping up a squealing Filli. In his mind’s eye, Frerin redrew the scene, imagining Amrie wearing a dwarven- styled court dress and holding a curly-headed blond with bright green eyes. Frerin swallowed hard, and took a step into the room. 

“Frey?” Frerin walked up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He studied her face- noticing the dark circles under her eyes. Both of them had not been able to get a good night’s rest for the last few days. 

“It’s alright, Amrie. It’s going to be alright.” Amrie pushed back. 

“What? Don’t try to sugarcoat it, tell me what’s going on.” 

“It’s going to be ok, Amrie! Adad’s cut out a deal for us- we will scout out Khazad-dûm as the punishment for helping the Ri’s instead of the death sentence. Isn’t that great?!”

Amrie burst into tears.

__________

Amrie stared at Thrain as he detailed what the party was supposed to do. She felt Fundin’s and Dwalin’s glares as Thrain went on. They don’t trust me- they think I got off easy. Balin was unreadable. A true politician- and more dangerous because of that. Jarke was staring off into the distance, just a boy really- he doesn’t understand the harsh reality of this world.

Frerin’s hand tightening around hers broke her from her musings as Thrain finished with a rather harsh- “Do you understand?” Everyone nodded. Thrain nodded his head and stood up. Fundin, Balin, Dwalin,. And Jarke stood up and bowed, quickly leaving the room. Thrain gave Frerin and her a sharp nod, and turned around to leave. 

“Sir?” Thrain turned around. Amrie swallowed. 

“I-I wanted to thank you. For making the deal.” Thrain’s face contorted slightly. He stepped even closer to her. 

“Agnug mahsamraimî hefsu,” Thrain bit out harshly. Frerin stiffened beside her. “I didn’t do it for you.” Amrie took a steadying breath.

“But I’ll thank you just the same,” she said evenly. Thrain scoffed and turned around, slamming the door shut behind him. Amrie turned towards Frerin and squeezed his shoulder. She shrugged her shoulder and gave him a lopsided smile.

“Come on, Frerin- we better get packed if we’re leaving at sunrise.” Frerin seemed to snap out of his trance and gave her a mischievous smile. 

“And maybe some non-packing activities??” Amrie grinned and nodded. Frerin gave a great whoop, and picked her up and ran out of the room, Amrie’s laughter trailing behind them.

__________

Frerin carefully lifted Amrie up onto her pony and gave her leg a pat. Amrie grinned and caught his hand, giving it a quick squeeze before turning towards her pony and talking to it in a low, sweet voice. Frerin smiled, and turned towards Thorin, who had his eyebrows furrowed.

“We’ll be alright, you worry-wart,” Frerin said lightly as he gave Thorin a slap on the shoulder. Thorin gave a slight nod.

“Be careful.” Frerin swung himself up onto his pony.

“Always do,” he said cheerfully. Then, with a sharp yell from Dwalin, they were off. 

__________

Frerin smashed his ax into the chopping log and flexed his shoulders. Grabbing his canteen, he uncorked it, taking several swigs of water. He re-corked and and began gathering up an armful of logs. Frerin quietly ambled towards the campsite. As Frerin got closer, he heard yelling. He furrowed his eyebrows and began to run. 

He got to the campsite in record-time, panting. Balin hurried over and helped Frerin unload the wood. 

“Balin,” Frerin gasped. Balin waved a no-nonsense hand. 

“It’s alright, laddie,” Balin said kindly. “What your hearin’ is just Dwalin riling your wife into sparing with him.” Frerin stared at Balin. 

“And did it work?” He asked incredulously. Balin cackled- CACKLED- and motioned toward the sandy clearing at the edge of their camp. Amrie and Dwalin were both smoothing staffs out of rough branches. Frerin turned back to Balin.

“Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Why? Unless you think Dwalin would kill her- which if you’re worried about that, Dwalin has a lot more control than you think.” Frerin rolled his eyes. 

“I was more worried about Dwalin,” he said dryly. Jarke gave a derisive snort.

“A little hobbit like her, beating Dwalin?” Frerin shot a glare at him and opened his mouth to retort when Balin snorted and shook his head.

“Laddie, if she beats Dwalin... I’ll give you my tobacco pouch.” Frerin perked up.

“With your Longbottom leaf?” Balin shook his head again with exasperation. 

“With the Longbottom leaf.” Frerin leaned forward and tapped Balin’s forehead.

“You have a deal, cousin,” he said with a grin. Balin looked slightly suspicious, but as he opened his mouth they heard Amrie sharply ask Dwalin if he was ready. Dwalin rumbled and stood up, testing his staff and then nodding. They both looked a Balin. He stepped forward.

“Alright lads- er lass and Dwalin,” Balin said apologetically. Amrie waved her hand. Balin cleared his throat. “You know the rules of a spar- no biting, no scratching, no outside weapons besides what was agreed on. To win you either need to knock your opponent unconscious or have them tap out. Understood?” Amrie and Dwalin both nodded. Balin sighed. “Mahal help us,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he called out, “Alright then, on the count of three, this spar will began.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“And...... Three!”

CLASH!

Amrie and Dwalin both charged at each other, and after several hard hits, Amrie hooked her staff behind Dwalin’s legs and tugged, causing him to come crashing down. Frerin almost laughed at Balin’s and Jarke’s slack-jawed expressions. Jarke’s snapped his mouth shut and began to yell at Dwalin. 

“C’mon Dwalin! You can beat that little itty bitty sharbagân to the ground.” Frerin turned towards Jarke, eyes flashing.

“You watch how you speak about my wife,” he growled. Jarke’s eyes flashed too, but he took a step back. 

Then Dwalin pushed himself up, and with a roar threw himself at Amrie. Amrie gracefully side-stepped him, and when Dwalin hurtled pass her, she spun around and gave him several hard whacks on the back and the sides of his legs. Dwalin swung his staff around with all his might- and CRASH the staffs collided with each other. Amrie quickly twisted her wrist, releasing their locked staffs and slashing her staff across his face. Dwalin stumbled back and fell to one knee, holding a hand to his face. Amrie took a couple of steps back and positioned herself into a defensive position. Jarke began to yell again. 

“Oh come on! Look how weak she is, she’s not even going at you!” Dwalin shook his head to get his bearing and stood up. Amrie watched with a calculated expression. He swung wildly, and Amrie returned it. Finally, after a couple hits a sand-covered Dwalin swiped at Amrie with his sparring pole, which Amrie gracefully ducked and swung her own pole in favor. Dwalin backed up, and to everyone’s surprise, Amrie dropped her pole ran straight towards him. Dwalin lashed out his pole and reached to grab her, but at the last possible moment Amrie ducked, pivoted, and struck a heel into the side of his knee. She gripped Dwalin’s swinging arm, and brought her other elbow up along Dwalin’s shoulder joint as he stumbled, twirled back around and dropped. Dwalin flipped over Amrie’s tiny body and hit the ground with a loud THUD. Dwalin wheezed and tapped the ground.

Silence reigned. Frerin smirked at Jarke’s and Balin’s opened mouths. He brought his hands together. Amrie whirled towards him, her chest heaving. 

__________

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Amrie twirled towards the clapper and saw Frerin standing on the edge of the group, smirking. She stared at him, trying to catch her breath. She saw a crestfallen Balin hand over a tobacco pouch. Frerin held it up triumphantly and nodded. Of course he bet on me.... 

Quickly turning back around she stuck out her hand towards Dwalin, who was still on the ground. Dwalin reached up, clasping Amrie’s hand and letting her help him up. 

“You did good,” Dwalin said begrudgingly. Amrie nodded. 

“So did you- you almost got me on several of those hits,” she admitted. Dwalin nodded and turned away to walk towards Balin. Amrie sighed, walking over to her staff and picking it up. No use letting this go to waste.... Frerin came up to her and slung an arm over her shoulder. 

“Ah..... the sweet feeling of winning- doesn’t it feel good?” Amrie raised an eyebrow. 

“You bet for something that I don’t even use?” Frerin faltered. He turned towards her with a shrewd expression.

“I’ll buy you a set of the glass cups that you liked.” 

“You’ll buy me four sets.” 

“Two.”

“Six.”

“Alright then, four!” Amrie nodded and then laughed, hooking her arm into his. They walked quietly back into camp for a moment.

“You know, Dwalin respects you now.” Amrie stopped and turned towards Frerin. “And so does Balin, to an point,” he continued. Amrie shook her head.

“Hooray,” she said sarcastically, “I just live to be appreciated by dwarrows.” 

“Don’t be like that- I know it bothered you that they didn’t like you.” Amrie shifted.

“It didn’t bother me.” Frerin raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

“I’m sure.” Frerin sighed and shook his head. Amrie bit her tongue and turned back towards the camp. 

__________

The last goblin fell by Amrie’s dagger, and she wiped her forehead. 

“Is it just me, or are the number of goblin’s increasing as we get closer?” Dwalin wiped his forehead too and shook his head grimly.

“It’s not just you,” he muttered. Jarke (who had hidden behind Frerin for most of the fight) straightened. 

“But we can take them- we’re dwarves!” Everyone turned and stared towards him. Amrie opened her mouth to tell him that nothing make anyone impervious, but Frerin shook his head. Amrie sighed and bent down to began the gristly duty of stripping the bodies. 

__________

Frerin laid as flat as he could on the rocks in front of Khazad-dûm beside Amrie. A blustery wind moved everyone’s hair back and forth. They all looked into the wide opening. Precious metals could be seen- glittering in the mid-day light.

“It seems cursed,” Amrie whispered. Jarke pushed himself up. 

“Well, looks like no one is home.” Amrie turned her head towards him.

“Are you mad?” She hissed. “Get down!” 

“There’s no one there!” Jarke stubbornly resisted. Frerin saw Balin slap a hand over his face.

“Jarke, you need to get down RIGHT NOW.” Dwalin growled. Jarke shook his head. 

“No way! I can see mithril from here! I’m going down!” And with that, Jarke scrambled down and started running towards the cave opening.

“Are you mad?!”

“Jarke!”

“Frerin, no! You can’t go after him!” 

“We don’t know what’s in there!” 

“Exactly!” 

“She’s right Frerin, we can’t go down there- we weren’t supposed to go down there. We’re just going to have to see what happens.” They all watched, aghast, as Jarke began shoveling handfuls of metals into a sack. Then-

BOOM. BOOM.

Amrie laid her head gently on Frerin’s back and tightened her grip even tighter around him. Frerin turned his head to look at Balin, who had his eyes squeezed shut.

BOOM. BOOM.

“Balin? Is that a type of dwarven drum? Balin?” Balin opened his eyes and turned his head towards Frerin. He shook his head sadly. 

“No, laddie. That was no dwarven drum.”

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

“Goblins,” Amrie bit out. Dwalin growled. 

“Damn idiot,” Dwalin spat out. Frerin opened his mouth to reply when they heard Jarke scream.  All their heads shot up as they watched in horror as hundreds of goblins swarmed Jarke. Frerin forced himself to keep his eyes opened as the goblins began ripping off Jarke’s armor and forced him to his knees. A large white orc stepped forward and unsheathed a large orcish blade. Frerin closed his eyes.

Whoosh.  

Frerin’s eyes shot open and he turned his head sharply towards Amrie as a terrible cry rang out. She slung her bow on her shoulder and laid down quickly. Frerin turned back towards the cave opening, where he saw the goblins staring dumbfounded at Jarke’s lifeless body. He had an arrow through his head. Chills ran down Frerin’s spine. Amrie had given Jarke a mercy kill. The pale orc roared. 

“C’mon,” Amrie hissed. “This place will be crawling with goblins by sundown. We need to get back to Thrain and tell him that this place is overrun by goblins and orcs.” Balin shook his head.

“We canna leave the body,” he said tightly. Dwalin put his hand on Balin’s shoulder. 

“We must,” he firmly whispered. Frerin closed his burning eyes.

“Frerin, we MUST go.” Amrie said urgently. Frerin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment longer, and then opened them and nodded. 

“Let’s leave this cursed place,” Frerin spat out. Dwalin tugged on Balin, and then they ran back towards their camp. 

__________

They rode back to Ered Luin as quickly as possible- only stopping to give their poor ponies much deserved breaks. When they entered into Ered Luin, Frerin hopped off his pony and threw the reins at one of the guards. He turned to another guard as the rest were getting off their ponies.

“Take us to the council room,” Frerin demanded. “We have much to tell the king and the rayad.” 

__________

Amrie took a deep breath as Frerin finished giving the room his report. She scanned the room. Fundin and Thrain looked worried. Most of the council members seemed stunned. Thror was unreadable. And Bjarke, son of Bjarni-

“MY SON. Oh, my son!” His wails reverberated throughout the room. Amrie shifted. Bjarke looked up at her and his face contorted.

“YOU!” Amrie stood up straight and looked him right into the eye. Bjarke slammed his fists on the table in front of him and stood up. “This is all your fault!” Balin held his hands and and tried to placate him. The room erupted. 

“It does not matter.” Amrie heard her clear voice say. The room quieted down. She took a deep breath and spoke louder. “It does not matter if the fault lies within me, or Jarke- what we do know is that Khazad-dûm is overrun with goblins and a huge breed of orc that I’ve never seen before. We cannot retake it.” Bjarke’s face turned an ugly shade of purple. 

“So Jarke is to blame for his own death.” Amrie took a deep breath. She stared at Bjarke straight in the eye. He took a step back. 

“Your son disregarded not only the warnings of four people who have fought for and defended their people, but he also disobeyed Prince Thrain.” Silence. “We were sent as scouts, to see if Khazad-dûm could be retaken. We were not sent to present ourselves in broad daylight and loot Khazad-dûm.” Murmurs filled the room. Bjarke’s face turned an even darker shade of purple.

“But you were the one that killed him.”

“Would you have rather that I had let him be eaten alive? Torn from limb to limb, bleeding out, wishing for death before they start eating his torso? Or even worse be fully stripped of everything that makes him a dwarf? His clothes, his hair, his beard, and then finally his head?” Everyone shifted uncomfortably. Thrain leaned forward.

“You seem to know a lot about what goblins do to folks.” 

“Well, after watching goblins eat one’s parents, you kind of become acquainted with what they do in those situations.” Thrain shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and looked down at his notes. 

“And you are sure that Khazad-dûm cannot be taken.” Dwalin cleared his throat.

“It’s true,” he rumbled. “As we got closer and closer to Khazad-dûm we encountered over twenty packs of goblins. We all saw over a hundred goblins overtake Jarke. Goblins breed faster than rabbits, so if a hundred more or less came to take down one dwarf, there must be more than we can imagine.” 

“Plus,” Balin inputted, “Khazad-dûm is huge- the place is most likely to be overrun.” The room erupted. 

“ENOUGH.” Everyone grew quiet and looked at Thror. He looked around the room coldly. “Everyone leave.” Most of the council members grumbled, but stood up anyways. Amrie felt Frerin grab her hand.

“Except,” everyone stopped. “For the sharbagân, Bjarke, son of Bjarni, and the rayad.” Amrie felt Frerin stiffen.

“I stay with my wife.” 

“You heard the Melhekhel,” Bjarke sneered. Amrie saw Frerin eyes shoot desperately towards Thrain, who shook his head. Amrie took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. 

“I’ll be alright, Frerin.” He gave her a betrayed look. Amrie looked him straight in the eye. “I promise.” Frerin sighed, and squeezed her hand before turning and leaving with the rest. Amrie took a deep breath as she watched the doors close behind his back.

__________

Frerin paced back and forth in front of the council room anxiously. For the last hour, thing were quiet. As he passed in front of the door for Mahal only knows how many times, he heard Amrie’s voice rise. She sounded panicked. Angry. Thror’s voice rumbled. Frerin clenched his fists and marched up to the door. Just as he raised his hand to pound on the door, it swung open. Amrie stormed out, cheeks red and with a black eye.  

“Amrie?”

“Your king,” she spat out, “Is a Yavanna-cursed FOOL.” Frerin’s jaw dropped. 

“What happened?!” Bjarke came out of the room, a smug grin on his face. 

“Don’t forget what you have to do, sharbagân,” he sneered. Amrie’s jaw tightened, and she clinched her fists. Oh dear Mahal please don’t....... 

Then quicker than one could blink, Amrie swung around and her fist collided with Bjarke’s nose. He fell to the ground, clutching it as blood spurted out.

“You,” she hissed, stalking towards him. Bjarke scrambled back. “You stay the hell away from me. I won’t forget that YOUR gold-mad king is going to drag both of our people into a war that we are going to lose.” She turned around and began to walk away, Bjarke stood up and shook his fist at Amrie’s back. 

“I could have you killed for this.” She spun around, her eyes flashing. 

“Do it- it would be much better to die now than to be slaughtered on the whim of a gold-mad king and an equally greedy council member.” Bjarke turned an ugly shade of red. Amrie turned back around, and stormed off. Frerin blinked, and started to chase after Amrie.

__________

Several hallways down, Frerin finally got close enough. He grabbed Amrie’s arm. She stopped.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “What’s going on? What happened?” Amrie rubbed her eye furiously. 

“Thror has decided to try and retake Khazad-dûm.” Frerin blinked.

“WHAT.” 

“And because I quote on quote ‘murdered’ Jarke, I have to go to the Shire and give the Thain a letter demanding support. And when I tried to tell him that it would be a slaughter, he gave me this,” Amrie said miserably, motioning to her black eye. Frerin sucked in a breath.

“And my father?” 

“Didn’t think that it is wise to try and retake it, but his word is meaningless next to the king- according to Bjarke anyways.” She rubbed her eye again. 

“I’m sorry, Amrie.” 

“For what? The fact the Thror gave me a black eye, or the fact that he’s gold-mad.”

“For everything.” 

“It’s not your fault.”

“And yet we’re here.” 

“We are.” They stood quietly for a moment, and then-

“What are we going to do?” Frerin asked. Amrie sighed.

“Pack, I suppose. The king wanted me to be gone by tomorrow.” Frerin groaned. 

“I guess we should both go pack then.” And then hand-in-hand, they walked down the hall.

Chapter Text

As the rolling hills of the Shire appeared, Amrie felt her eyes burn. Home. Frerin, who was riding beside her, gave her a concerned look. I’m fine, she willed mentally. Frerin seemed to understand as he nodded and looked forward again. 

“Ho there! Who trespasses these woods?” Amrie felt a real grin stretch across her face. 

“Izzy!” She shrieked, as she leapt off her pony and tackled him in a bear hug. Issenbras laughed and wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh Amrie, it’s wonderful to see you,” Issenbras said as he took a step back. “But I will say that I thought you would stay in Ered Luin....” -he stopped and stared at her face- “Longer,” he finished lamely. Amrie grimaced. Issenbras turned to Frerin and glared at him.

“What. Happened.” Frerin sighed. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“Well, start talking.” 

“As nice as it would be to catch up,” Amrie butted in, “we actually need to see the Thain as soon as possible.” Issenbras look skeptical.

“The Thain. As in your brother. As in the hobbit you would never go out of your way to talk to and vise versa?” Amrie shifted. “Why?” Amrie sighed. 

“It’s a long story,” she said tiredly. Issenbras put his hands on his hips. 

“Well, I’ll take you to the Thain, and you both can tell me your story.” Amrie and Frerin both sighed. 

“You’re not going to like it,” Frerin grumbled. Issenbras muttered something under his breath and motioned for them to follow him. They both sighed again.

___________

Issenbras didn’t like it. Frerin winced as he felt Issenbras’ glare hitting him. They stood before a teal painted, round Hobbit door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. Amrie took a step back and grabbed Frerin’s hand. The door swung open, revealing the same bright green eyes that Amrie had. The Thain. 

“Mistress Amaryllis.”

“Thain Gerontius.” An awkward beat passed. Amrie cleared her throat.

“I come for official business in the name of King Thror of the line of Durin.” Gerontius raised an eyebrow, but opened the door more. He motioned for them to come in. Frerin carefully wiped his boots before coming in. 

They followed him into a study, where they sat down as Gerontius shut the door behind them. He sat down at the desk.

“So, what is this ‘official business?’” He asked. Amrie pulled out the letter from her waistcoat and slid it towards him. He raised an eyebrow and pulled it out of the envelope. The room was quiet- the only noise made was the rustling of paper. As he read it, his face grew redder and redder and he opened and closed his mouth. He finished reading it, and looked up. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“I wish I was.” Gerontius spluttered. 

“This- this is wrong!” He cried. He began to pace the floor. Frerin struggled not to roll his eyes. Issenbras snatched up the letter and began to read it. Gerontius turned to Frerin and shook his fist in his face. “This is all your fault! If you had never taken Amaryllis out of the Shire this wouldn’t be happening!” Frerin felt his face burn and he opened his mouth to retort something rude back when Amrie stood up and pulled him back, putting herself in front of Gerontius.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is- what matters is what are you going to do?” Gerontius glared at her. Issenbras set the letter down at the desk.

“If we send the bare minimum of food- do you think that the king will let it by?” He inputted. Amrie shrugged her shoulders.

“Possibly. He’s so greedy that he doesn’t care about the well-being of his people.” Frerin winced. Amrie looked at him. “It’s true.”

SLAM. Everyone looked at Gerontius. He tapped the letter angrily.

“And what about this ‘any able-bodied hobbit willing to fight?’ We need people to guard our borders- and our people are stretched thin as it is.” Frerin ran a hand through his hair. 

“I was thinking of talking to the Bounders.” Everyone stared at Amrie. Gerontius rolled his eyes. Amrie took a deep breath. “I would tell them the truth- that a gold-mad king wants to take his people and ours to what will probably be our deaths.” Frerin winced even harder. 

“And when everyone refuses to go?” Amrie shrugged.

“Then they weren’t willing.” All the males blinked. 

“That’s-“

“Brilliant,” Issenbras interrupted enthusiastically. “A loophole! And what about you?” Amrie looked at Frerin, and then down at her feet. 

“Were he goes, so do I,” she whispered. Frerin felt a flood of gratitude, guilt, and horror rush through him. Issenbras looked distraught and stood up abruptly, running out of the room. An awkward silence fell over the room. Gerontius clapped his hands together.

“Well then! I will tell Didinas to round up all the Bounders so that you can talk to them!” He began rifling through sheafs of paper. Amrie looked up at Gerontius, her eyes sad. She lowered her head back down and nodded. Gerontius looked up from his papers and waved his hand. “You can go now,” he said impatiently. 

Amrie lowered her head even further, and turned around and left the room. Frerin bit back a rush of annoyance and followed her. He grabbed her hand. 

“We’ll get through this.” Amrie stopped abruptly and turned towards him. Frerin almost flinched at the look in her eyes. 

“You don’t know that.”

“We’re young Amrie- and we have so much more to live. So much more life to experience.”

“Being young with a bright future means nothing in this world.” Frerin bit his tongue to keep back the sarcastic words that wanted to flow from his mouth. He tightened his fists.

“Well I believe it does.” Amrie opened her mouth, faltered, and then looked down at her feet.

“Then I pray that you are right,” she whispered. She quietly turned back around and walked towards the door. Frerin swallowed, took a deep breath, and followed her. 

They walked over the threshold and Amrie gently shut the door. She paused for a moment, and then rested her hand against the doorframe. She whispered something in a soft, flowing language and then turned towards Frerin, holding out her hand and gave him a grim smile. Frerin felt a strange chill run down his spine, but he took her hand and let her lead him down the pave stones.

__________

Amrie fiddled with the buckles on her bracer. Her thoughts ran wild- bouncing all around her head. She felt Frerin’s presence slightly behind her and tried to relax as much as possible. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know what she was feeling. She looked at Didinas, who grimly motioned her forward. Amrie took a deep breath, and took a step forward. She looked at the small crowd that had gathered around the empty glade.

“My brothers and sisters,” Amrie began. She gulped, and then continued with-“You are gathered here tonight because King Thror of the line of Durin demands for our aid. He wants any able-bodied Hobbit willing to fight to come join the dwarrows as they retake their homeland called Khazad-dûm.” Murmurs erupted. Amrie stamped her foot and held out her hand. The group grew quiet. 

“There is more. It is overtaken by orcs and goblins- and even with our joined forces it would most likely be a slaughter.” All the Bounders turned to each other and whispered to each other. A young looking Bounder held up his hand hesitantly. Amrie raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Then why does he want to retake it?” Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“Because it is home.” Everyone turned towards Frerin. They looked at each other.

“And because King Thror has a sickness of the mind,” Amrie inputted. She saw Frerin wince. Didinas crossed his arms.

“And what is this sickness, Amaryllis?” He asked sternly. She heard Frerin suck in a breath.

“The dwarrow call it gold sickness- the race of men call it dragon sickness. Two names for the same sickness.” She answered honestly. She saw Didinas’ jaw clench, and he turned towards the rest of the Bounders, who were whispering to each other.

“I think we need not to hear anymore- I personally will not go, and do not condone any of our brotherhood to join with the dwarrows. If they are foolish enough to follow their mentally incompetent leader to their deaths, that is on them.” Frerin stepped forward, his face bright red. 

“At least we have loyalty- which it seems like none of you have.” Gerontius turned towards him, his eyes flashing.

“Be quiet,” he hissed, “you agreed to this.”

“I agreed to letting everyone have a choice, not a mockery of my people.” 

"What is being said is true. I bet if your wife wasn’t married to you she wouldn’t be joining YOUR people,” Gerontius sneered. Amrie saw Frerin’s face get even redder and she reached out and snagged his sleeve, pulling him back. She stood oh her tiptoes to reach Frerin’s ear.

“I know you don’t like this,” she whispered, “but this is how it is done.” Frerin ripped his arm out of Amrie’s grip. Amrie felt a flash of irritation surge through her. She opened her mouth to say something rude when a breathless voice interrupted her.

“I’ll go.” Everyone fell silent and turned towards Issenbras. He was breathing hard along with Cress, Heather, Ro, Tom, Ollie, Elm, Shem, Bri, Dahlia, and Clove.

“So will I.” 

“Me too.” 

“All of us will,” piped up Dahlia. Amrie felt her throat grow tight and her eyes burn. 

“Do you know what you’re saying son?” Issenbras looked at Didinas defiantly. 

“I do.” 

“I cannot give you my blessing.”

“Then so be it.” Gerontius looked at the other hobbits almost desperately.

“And what about the rest of you? You obviously weren’t here when Amrie explained everything.” Clove stepped forward, eyes flashing.

“Issenbras told us everything. And he didn’t sugar-coat it.”

“It just didn’t seem right, letting a member of our brotherhood fight by her lonesome,” Tom inputted. Gerontius spluttered, and then his eyes glinted. 

“And what about your duties? Who will take your places?” 

“We have already worked it out with our fellow brothers and sisters,” Ro said calmly. He turned towards Didinas. “All the paperwork detailing our plans are on your desk- that’s why we were late to the gathering.” Didinas stepped towards Issenbras and put his hands on his shoulders. 

“Ydych chi'n deall beth allai ddigwydd i chi os ewch chi?” 

“Ydw, nhad, dwi'n gwneud.” Didinas sighed and stepped back, looking at the rest of the small group.

“Ydych chi'n deall beth allai ddigwydd i chi os ewch chi?”

“Le, syr.” They said firmly. He sighed again and hung his head. 

“Then you may go.” Didinas turned towards Amrie. He held out his hand. “Congratulations- Captain Amaryllis.” Amrie felt her body go numb.

“Sir?” He smiled grimly. 

“Troops must have a leader,” he threw behind his shoulder as he left the clearing. “All other Bounders- you are dismissed. Go back to your posts.” The glade filled with voices as the all the other Bounders slinked off into the shadows. Amrie’s eyes widened as she realized what had just happened. She turned towards Frerin, whose eyes were as wide as hers was. 

“Well,” she proclaimed. “I suppose we should all pack- we are supposed to meet the dwarrows in a week’s time. Cress and Clove, Tom and Heather, and Ollie and Bri- you all will be the team drivers for the food. The rest of us- defense. Any questions?” Everyone shook their heads. “Then let’s go.” Everyone nodded, and they left the glade- leaving behind the whistling wind and the creaking branches.

Chapter Text

Amrie carefully swung up on her pony. She felt achy and desperately prayed that it wasn’t a cold. She saw Didinas give Issenbras a back-breaking hug and she looked towards Frerin, who had just gotten on his own pony. She felt a presence beside her and turned back to look at Didinas standing by her. His eyes glimmered.

“You remember the rules of the Bounder-“

“Stay hidden and show no mercy.” Amrie quietly recited with him. Didinas nodded and leaned forward, griping the halter. 

“You keep my son safe, you hear me?” Amrie nodded.

“Until my last breath,” she promised. Didinas nodded, and with a sharp shout from Ro, they slowly moved forward. As the Shire slowly disappeared, Amrie felt a sense of foreboding and her eyes blurred out the last view of the Shire.

__________

They arrived at the campsite that they had first stayed at while they had scouted out Khazad-dûm. Frerin smiled at the memory of Amrie flipping Dwalin over her shoulder. He dismounted, and walked over to Thorin, slapping his shoulder.

“Frerin,” Thorin began, tinged with annoyance. He opened his mouth to probably voice that annoyance when they heard someone shout:

“YOU.” Both of the brothers swung around to see a livid Issenbras roughly dismount off his pony. He stormed towards the two. Thorin tried to hide behind Frerin. Frerin neatly sidestepped him. 

“Oh no, I’ve been dealing with pranks the whole trip here- it’s your turn to be the brunt of his anger.” Thorin paled as Issenbras stomped forward. He jabbed a finger into Thorin’s chest.

“YOU.” He bit out. “The only reason why we are here right now is because You. Did. Nothing,” he said, interjecting his words with jabs to Thorin’s chest. Thorin spluttered.

“I did nothing! You- you disrespectful hobbit! I did do things!” Issenbras scoffed.

“Of course you did- you just sat there all handsome-like and nodded regally to everything your king said.” Thorin turned bright red. He opened and closed his mouth. Frerin watched, fascinated, as something seemed to click in Thorin’s brain. His eyes shone with an unholy light. 

“So you think I’m handsome?” He purred. Frerin bite his lip to keep from laughing as Issenbras spluttered.

“I do not!”

“You think I’m regal.”

“I said no such thing!” Thorin smirked, and Frerin felt the slightest pang of sympathy. Only the slightest.  

“Oh hang off it, Izzy.” Everyone turned towards a pale Amrie as she slowly dismounted. “Everyone and their mother knows that you’ve been pining towards Thorin ever since you met in the markets.” Thorin and Issenbras spluttered. Amrie rolled her eyes and then put a hand on her stomach. “And I’m going to be sick.” They all watched in horror as Amrie leaned over and began heaving. 

Frerin ran over to her and gently pulled her hair away and rubbed her back. Everyone around them wrinkled their noses as the smell of bile hit them. Thorin looked slightly grossed out. 

“Are you alright?” Amrie coughed and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping her mouth with it. 

“Just peachy,” She muttered. Issenbras wordlessly handed her a canteen. She nodded thankfully and uncorked it, taking several swings. She handed it back, and turned towards Thorin and straightened. 

“I need to discuss battle plans with your captains and generals. Where can I find them?” Thorin pointed towards a large tent that Frerin remembered being Thror’s. Amrie nodded, and turned towards Issenbras.

“Izzy, you and Ro are in charge of making sure the foodstuff goes to the right people. The rest of you, take care of the ponies, and see where we can set up our tents.” They all nodded and began bustling around. Amrie nodded towards Thorin, and walked towards Thror’s tent. Thorin turned towards Frerin, his eyebrows furrowed.

“What happened?” Frerin sighed. 

“Everything.” He slapped Thorin’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s help Issenbras and Ro with the food and I’ll tell you all about it.” Thorin nodded, and they both walked over to the closest wagon and began unloading it.

__________

Amrie stepped out of the tent and sighed. After several hours of arguing, it was finally agreed that the Bounders would be beside the royal family. Just as I planned.... Her stomach rumbled, and she decided to try and find Frerin and hopefully- some food. 

Amrie gracefully weaved through the waves of dwarrows, ignoring their stares. She dodged a dwarf who had tripped and ran into a solid being. 

“Ouch,” she muttered- rubbing her head. She looked up to apologize to the poor dwarf that she had run into, when her eyebrows shoot up. 

“Villi?!” Villi blinked. 

“Amrie! I’m glad you finally got here!” 

“What- what are you doing here? What about Dis?” Villi raised his eyebrow. 

“If you think that I would let my wife, who is carrying my child, fight in a battlefield you don’t know me at all,” he said cooly. Amrie spluttered. 

“I wasn’t saying that at all- shouldn’t you be with her back in Ered Luin?” Villi shifted. 

“A prince of the line of Durin needs to be fighting in the front.” Amrie jammed her fists into her waist.

“And who said that?” Villi shifted again. “Bjarke?” Villi looked away. Amrie felt her blood boil. Villi sighed and looked back at her.

“Most people,” he began slowly. “Do not see me as a real prince- just an imposter that wormed his way into the royal family by marrying the princess.” Amrie scowled.

“Is it the actual people, or the council members that believe that?” Villi looked away again. 

“Both.” Amrie scowled even darker. He sighed, exasperated. “Mostly the council members- but they influence the general public.” 

“Well that’s stupid,” Amrie said tartly. She reached out and put an hand on Villi”s shoulder. “You make an excellent prince, and a wonderful father.” Villi’s eyes snapped back towards her, and he gave her a thankful smile. 

“Well c’mon girl,” he drawled, “Don’t you go making me cry.” Amrie laughed. He gave her a wide grin. “Now I know you weren’t looking for this handsome fellow- how about we try to find Frerin in this madness?” Amrie gave a wry smile and nodded. And then they wove their way through the throngs of dwarrow to find him.

After almost half an hour of dodging and ducking, Amrie and Villi found Issenbras. 

“Izzy!” 

“Hi Amrie! You’re looking for Frerin?” Amrie nodded. He pointed to Thror’s tent off in the distance. 

“He went there with Thorin after we unloaded the food.” Amrie scowled.

“Damnio ef,” she muttered. Villi raised his eyebrow, but patted her shoulder soothingly.

It’s ok- we’ll just go back.” Amrie nodded tiredly. She felt another hand on her shoulder.

“I’ll go with you,” Issenbras said kindly. "I'm still not done with Thorin." Amrie felt her mouth twitch, but she just nodded again, and they all turned towards Thror’s tent.

After almost another half hour of fighting through the crowd when they reached Thror’s tent. As they approached they heard an angry voice boom:

“You must stop this madness, Thrain! Moria has been over taken by orc since Durin’s bane slew Durin himself! This is folly!” Thrain turned back towards the grey wizard, snarling. He shouted something in the dwarven language. The grey wizard huffed and turned to storm away, stopping short when he saw Issenbras and Amrie. “Hello! What are hobbits doing here, so far from the Shire?” 

“We are helping the dwarrow retake their home,” Issenbras stated stoutly. The grey wizard’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“And why would the gentlest folk take part in such a terrible endeavor?” Amrie stiffened. She felt a flash of irritation at the wizard’s disapproving tone. It wasn’t our idea to be here in the first place.... 

“My husband’s grandfather, the king, has decided that we should retake it, so I fight with my kin and my family,” Amrie said tartly. The wizard spluttered.

“Hobbits,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. 

“Master.... wizard.... sir?” Asked Issenbras. The grey wizard laughed bitterly.

“I am Gandalf, Gandalf the grey, Master hobbit- though it seems that it does not hold any weight among these folk.”

“Issenbras Took.”

“Amaryllis Took, wife of Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thor.” 

“Master Gandalf sir, would you please stay with us and fight?” The wizards face grew solemn. He bent down so his face was close to Issenbras’.

“No Master hobbit, I will not. This fight is folly. Even if Durin’s folk retake this mountain, they will lose it again in less than a decade. There are worse things in that mountain than goblins.” He tilted his head thoughtfully, looking at Amrie. “Perhaps, you could talk to your husband and convince him to change Thor and Thrain’s minds.” Amrie and Issenbras both shook their heads, remembering the dark bruising on the side of her face when she came to the Shire for Thror's recruit. 

“Master Gandalf, since you will not stay and fight along side us, will you do something for me?”  What are you doing, Issenbras….. 

“Depends on what you’re asking.”

“Will you give these daggers to my da? His name is Didinas Took, of the Long Cleaves. Tell him, tell him that I fought well.” Amrie felt her eyes burn. The wizard looked even more solemn. 

“I will do that Master Took,” Gandalf said as he took the daggers, hiding them into his flowing robes. Then he turned around, and never looked back. Amrie sighed.

“Great,” she groused. “Even a bloody wizard thinks that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good plan.” She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at Issenbras, who looked as solemn as Gandalf. She quietly grabbed his hand, and began to cry. She felt Frerin’s arms around her, and cried even harder.

__________

Amrie quietly sat beside Frerin, staring at the crackling bonfire in front of her. She lifted the bowl of soup to her lips and took a long sip. She paused, and made sure her stomach didn’t decided to revolt like it had the last week or so. When it didn’t, she sighed and snuggled closer to Frerin. She looked up slightly to see his soft smile as he wrapped his arm around her. 

“You know,” Amrie heard a voice snidely say, “I was under the impression that hobbits had more than twelve people as a race.” Amrie blinked and looked up to see Bjarke glowering at the group. Ro lazily looked up at him from his his bowl of soup. 

“Our people, while many, do not know how to fight- thus they are not ‘able-bodied.’ There are only a handful of us in comparison to our innocents, and most had to stay behind and defend our people- thus they were not ‘willing.’” Bjarke spluttered angrily. 

“We are on the most glorious conquest to reclaim our home!” He turned towards Amrie. “This is all your fault!” Amrie felt Frerin’s arm tighten around her. She blinked slowly. 

“That I found a loophole to keep the majority of MY people from this slaughter? Then yes, it is my fault.” Bjarke glowered at her but stormed away. She gritted her teeth. An awkward silence fell over the group.

“Do you really think that Khazad-dûm is not retakable?” Everyone’s head swiveled towards Sten, son of Stygve. He took a step back. Amrie swallowed as she saw a rather large group of younger-looking dwarrows behind him, looking at their group with a sad desperation. She felt her eyes burn. 

“Laddie, in my experience, once orcs and goblins invade any place- only magic can truly clear them out,” said a dwarf with a wild shock of black hair. “There is also the matter of Durin’s Bane.”

“Are we going to die?” One of the dwarrows’ asked, his eyes round.

“Only Mahal can determine the day that we join him to his halls.” Balin said kindly. The whole group looked at their feet.

“But,” Amrie inputted. All their heads shot up as they looked at her. She gulped. “But, we can live our lives to the fullest and fight as hard as we can for the time that we do have. Hobbits are lucky if they live past one hundred- we do not have as much time as dwarrows. But we live every day for love- for life. And no matter if you die on this field, or in your beds decades later, you need to know if you lived your life well- or if you just passed by it like a ghost. That’s what really matters.” She saw all of the Bounders nodding their heads and felt Frerin’s eyes bore into her. A contemplative silence fell over the group. 

“Do hobbits have a songs for battles?” Ollie sat up. 

“No, we don’t really-“

“I wrote one,” Amrie interrupted. Everyone stared at her.

“You did?” Frerin questioned incredulity. Amrie shrugged her shoulders and nodded. 

“Seemed fitting.”

“Let’s hear it then,” Villi said, leaning forward. Amrie took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

"Home is behind the world ahead.

And there are many paths to tread.

Through shadow, to the edge of night.

Until the stars are all alight .

Mist and shadow.

Cloud and shade.

All shall fade,

All shall fade.”  

Everyone sat quietly, a somber mood settling over them. Tom slapped his knee. 

“This won’t do,” he stated as he stood up. “Most times, when hobbits fight, we sing songs about what we are fighting for. Our homes, our families, our lives. I think we have a good song for that.” He hopped up on the log that he was sitting on and began:

“I saw the sun begin to dim.

And felt that winter wind,

Blow cold.

A man learns who is there for him,

When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold.

'Cause from then, rubble.

One remains.

Can only be what's true.

If all was lost,

Is more I gain.

'Cause it led me back- to you.

From now on,

These eyes will not be blinded by the lights.

From now on,

What's waited till tomorrow starts tonight.

Tonight.

Let this promise in me start,

Like an anthem in my heart.

From now on.

From now on.

I drank liquor with kings and queens,

The politicians praised my name.

But those are someone else's dreams,

The pitfalls of the man I became.

For years and years, I chased their cheers.

The crazy speed of always needing more.

But when I stop,

And see you here,

I remember who all this was for!” Ollie and Shem whooped, and hopped up, dragging Heather and Bri with them. All the other hobbits laughed and jumped up, swirling and dancing along to Tom’s voice. 

“And from now on-

These eyes will not be blinded by the lights.

From now on,

What's waited till tomorrow starts tonight.

It starts tonight!

And let this promise in me start,

Like an anthem in my heart.

From now on.

From now on.

From now on!” The other’s voices rose up.

“And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!

And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!

And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!”

“From now on!”

“And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!” All the hobbits split off, and pulled the dwarves up. Amrie laughed at their wide eyes.

“And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!

And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!

And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home, again!”

“From now on!"

“These eyes will not be blinded by the lights!”

“From now on!”

“What's waited till tomorrow starts tonight!

It starts tonight!

Let this promise in me start,

Like an anthem in my heart.

From now on!

From now on!” The dwarves’ voices rose along with the hobbits.

“From now on!”

“And we will come back home

And we will come back home

Home again!

“C’mon,” Amrie heard Frerin whisper in her ear. She stood up and followed Frerin as everyone’s voices faded off into the distance.

“And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home again!

And we will come back home,

And we will come back home,

Home again!

From now on,

From now on,

Home again!

From now on,

From now on,

Home again!”

____________

Frerin hummed the song Tom sang, as he gently twirled Amrie around. She laughed breathlessly, and stood on her tiptoes and kissed his nose gently. He grinned, and leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. She smiled, and grabbed his hand as they ambled towards their tent. Amrie stopped abruptly.

“Wha-“ Amrie shushed Frerin and pointed. He looked, and his jaw dropped. Standing in front of a tent, facing each other, were Thorin and Issenbras. 

They were kissing. 

It was only their lips and just the lightest of kisses, but closed-eyed and silent. 

Frerin and Amrie gave each other a triumphant look, and quickly ran to their tent. When they got to their tent, they both laughed and gave each other a big hug, silently rejoicing.  

Finally.

Chapter Text

Thorin carefully threw on his leathers over his chainmail. He glanced over to Thrain, who was slowly buckling Thror’s armor. He quietly went over to Villi, who had tucked himself in the corner in the tent and was struggling to buckle on one of his bracers. Thorin reached out and helped Villi buckle his bracer. Villi nodded gratefully. They both blocked out Thror’s detailed plan of what he would do when Khazad-dûm was retaken.

__________

Issenbras tugged Shem’s leathers, making sure that they wouldn’t come undone. Dahlia, Bri, and Heather were rapidly fletching arrows. Clove was sharpening her daggers razor-sharp; Cress’ hand on her knee. Ro looked off into the distance- towards the Shire. Elm and Tom quietly joked around, trying to lighten the heaviness of impeding doom. 

“You think they’ll bury us together?” Everyone stopped and turned to look at Ollie. He swallowed and looked down at the ground. Issenbras walked towards him and put his hands on his shoulders. Ollie looked up at him.

“I will personally make sure that we will, I promise.” Ollie gulped, and nodded, looking down again.

__________

Amrie carefully buckled Frerin’s leathers. She stepped back and sighed. Frerin reached out and cupped his hands around her face, bringing their foreheads together. 

“We will survive this,” he whispered fiercely. “We will survive this, and have many pebbles, and they will grow up and have pebbles, and we will die after a long, fulfilling life in our sleep.” Amrie closed her eyes and placed her hands over Frerin's.

“I love you, Frerin,” she whispered. Frerin closed his eyes.

“And I, you.”

__________

Amrie stood in front of her friends, her family, her Bounders. They all stood tall and proud. She heard the bellows of Thror and Thrain as they prepared to march.

“My friends,” Amrie began. She switched to Hobbitish. “Today is the day that the world will know that our people are not defenseless. We are not weak. Our purpose here today is only one thing- we protect the line of Durin. Try to stay in pairs, use your short stature to sneak attack. Stay as hidden as possible, and show no mercy- for you will receive none.” She tightened her left hand into a fist and held it up to her chest. “Bendithion yr Arglwyddes Werdd arnoch chi.”

“Bendithion yr Arglwyddes Werdd arnoch chi,” they called out and they held their fists to their chests.

__________

The steady, deafening sound of dwarven boots marching filled the valley. Frerin tightened the grip on his shield. He looked over on his right to cousins, Thorin, his father, and grandfather. They all held a grim look of determination. He looked over to his left to Amrie, who lead their hobbit friends with her head held high, and tears in her eyes. He swallowed. They shouldn’t be here, we all shouldn’t be here. 

They stopped. And they waited.

BOOM. BOOM. Everyone took a deep breath.

BOOM. BOOM. Frerin heard a small group shift. 

“Steady,” Amrie commanded.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They all watched with a growing sense of horror as a sea of goblins and orcs poured out of the doorway to Khazad-dûm. 

“Mahal.” Frerin heard Fundin breath out. Frerin swallowed as the goblins parted for the large, pale orc to stand in the front. Memories of Jarke’s death appeared.

“You will give us back our homeland!” Thror yelled. The pale orc jeered something in his foul language, and the laughter that erupted could only be described as nails going down a chalkboard. Frerin felt a chill go down his spine. 

“I, Azog, will crush you all!” He bellowed. He pointed to Thror. “I will start by taking your head!” Then, Azog motioned to their group, and roared. The goblins screamed back, and began to run towards them. The dwarves and hobbits yelled, and with a horn blast, they ran towards the goblins. The battle had begun.

“Arrows!” Frerin heard Amrie scream.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Frerin watched in amazement as large clumps of goblins fell, arrow fletching sticking out of them. They continued to fall as they grew closer. 

Just before they impacted, he heard Amrie yell again. He lifted his sword up, and swung it up, slicing into the neck of the closest goblin. He saw a flash of a blade, and as he turned he saw a familiar jade-handled dagger sticking out of it’s head. He yanked it out, and tossed it towards Amrie’s direction. He heard a rushed thank you, before he focused on the next goblin. With a sharp yell, he sliced through it, and went after another.

__________

They slowly got closer, and closer to the doors. Dwarves and goblins alike dropped like flies. Frerin yelled as he saw Villi get separated by a wave of goblins. Ro, Tom, and Shem ran past him with a determined look on their faces and dropped, sliding under the goblins’ legs with their daggers twirling and flashing. 

Frerin heard Amrie scream, and whipped his head around slightly to watch in horror as a orc lifted up Clove, strangling her. Cress screamed like a feral cat, and leapt towards her. A group of goblins hid them from sight.

Suddenly, his knee was hit with a dull pain and locked, causing Frerin to fall down. He looked at his knee, and an arrow with a wretched black fletching extended from it. His stomach churned. 

He heard a roar, and looked up to see a goblin with its’ rusty sword up, preparing to strike down. He didn’t even have time to react before an arrow imbedded itself into its forehead. Frerin watched in horror as Amrie leapt over him to stand in front of him. She began shooting rapidly, the goblins coming towards them dropping.

“HEALERS! Prince Frerin is injured!” Amrie screamed.  

“No!” Frerin screamed back. Two dwarves with the red armbands ran up to him and picked him up by his arms, dragging him away from the fight. Amrie looked at him, her face streaked with blood, dirt, and tears. Her eyes were wide as she turned back towards the goblins and raised her bow again.

“No! Amrie! NO!” Dwarven bodies blocked his view and Frerin screamed and cried as he was being dragged away from Amrie.

__________

They slowly got closer, and closer to the doors. For every goblin that fell, three dwarrow fell. Thorin struggled to keep his breath as he sliced through goblin after goblin. He felt father’s presence beside him, felt the wind move from his war hammer. He had lost sight of Issenbras, Frerin, and Villi at the very beginning. He pushed back all the worry and horror into numbness.

Block, strike, kill. Block, strike, kill. Block, strike, kill.

Thorin heard a triumphant roar, and looked up and felt a cold wave of horror slice through the numbness. Azog held Thror’s head aloft. He gave Thorin a sick, triumphant look, and threw Thror’s head. It disappeared among the fighting dwarves and goblins. 

The dwarves screamed, and began to run. The goblins quickly followed, and began to overtake them.

“NO!” Thorin screamed. He began to run forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his chest. He looked at his father. Thorin saw in his eyes what he planned to do. “Father!”

“No, stay back!” Thrain hissed.

“I will fight with you!”

“Azog means to kill us all,” Thrain panted desperately. “One, by one, he will destroy the line of Durin! Not by my life, will he take my sons! You must stay here!” And with a yell, Thrain ran towards Azog, war hammer raised high. A group of fighting dwarves and goblins blocked him from Thorin’s sight. Thorin gritted his teeth, and with a frustrated scream he lifted his sword and followed his father.

Block, strike, kill. Block, strike, kill. Block, strike, kill. Block, strike, kill.

When Thorin finally reached Azog, Thrain was nowhere to be found. Thorin yelled and lifted up his sword and shield as Azog ran towards him. With wild swings, Azog knocked Thorin’s sword and shield out of hands, making him stumble off the small ledge of rock he was standing on. He felt around desperately, and grabbed an oaken branch to defend himself as Azog leapt from the ledge, bringing his mace down with all of his might.

Blow after blow, Azog hit his mace against the oaken branch- finally knocking Thorin down. He gasped for breath and felt around frantically as Azog lifted his arms above his head to swing his mace down.

__________

Amrie felt tears stream down her face as she cut down goblin after goblin. Bri, Dahlia, and Ollie had fallen on the first impact. Ro, Tom, and Shem went to defend Villi. Clove and Cress were probably dead. She had lost sight of Heather and Elm. At least Frerin is safe….. 

“Arglwyddes Werdd, clyw fy nghri. Clywch a gweld yr anghyfiawnder hwn!” Amrie cried, roughly wiping away her tears. She pulled out another pair of poisoned daggers, and began slashing the nearest goblins. 

Issenbras and Sten, son of Stygve, stayed beside her, defending her and each other with their swords. Screams and roars bellowed throughout the air. Suddenly, a dismayed cry rang throughout the dwarven troops and they began to run.

“What’s happening?!” She heard Sten cry out. 

“The king is dead! The pale orc had his head!” Screamed a dwarf as he ran past them. Amrie gasped and threw her dagger into the neck of a goblin that was going after Issenbras. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him pull it out and use it to slash the neck of another goblin. She looked up, and watched in horror as Azog knocked Thorin off the rock that they were standing on. She flipped out her bow and pulled the last arrow out of her quiver. She pulled the string taut, and released it as Azog lifted up his mace to bring it down on Thorin.

Whoosh.

__________

Thorin felt around frantically as Azog swung around and began to swing his mace down. Suddenly, Azog roared as an arrow seemed to sprout from his left shoulder. Thorin felt a handle of a blade and grabbed it, swinging it upwards and slicing off Azog’s arm. Azog stumbled back, holding the stump of his arm, roaring in pain. 

A swarm of goblin’s appeared, and Thorin fought them. When they had all fallen, he saw Azog's body being dragged back into the gates of Khazad-dûm. He looked back and saw his people fleeing and being slaughtered.

“Du Bekar!” He roared, holding his sword up. His fleeing people turned around and roared back-

“DU BEKAR!” Horns resounded, and with a almighty yell the dwarves fell into the goblins.

“Khayamu!” Yelled Dwalin as he head butted a goblin. Thorin blinked. Well, that’s something I never thought I would see….

__________

After Amrie released the arrow, she heard a sharp cry. She swung around in time to see a goblin crush Sten’s head into the ground. He was gone. She felt more tears well up as she threw one of her daggers at the goblin’s forehead. You were a good dwarf, Sten, son of Stygve, Amrie thought.

Then, at Thorin’s bellow, an almighty yell erupted from the dwarven troops as they turned back around and began to fight the orcs and goblins again. Horns blasted. Amrie turned slightly and saw Issenbras swing his sword through another goblin. It was slower than it was at the beginning of the fight. He was exhausted. 

Amrie reached out and grabbed his hand. He looked at her with deadened eyes, face covered with dirt and black and red blood.

“We’ll do this together,” She screamed. She watched as Issenbras tightened his jaw and jerked his head to nod. Arrows flew over their heads, cutting down some of the goblins running towards them. Heather and Elm…. 

Amrie flicked out her last pair of daggers, the jade-handled ones that began Frerin and her’s story, and Issenbras lifted his sword.

Then, they ran towards their fate.

Chapter Text

The battle was over. Thorin felt his skin crawl as he walked among and on the dead, holding the oaken branch and his sword loosely. There are so many….. Too many.

He saw Balin and Dwalin put their foreheads together as they wept over Fundin’s body. He watched as Dwalin pulled away an started walking towards him. He stopped in front of Thorin, and they stared at each other. Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He cleared his throat.

“My family? The hobbits?” He asked hoarsely. Dwalin’s face grew grimmer. 

“Frerin was taken by the healers for an arrow in his knee. I dinna know about anyone else.” Thorin threw regality into the air, and ran towards the healers’ tents. Dwalin followed him.

__________

Thorin made it to the healers’ tents and record time, and when Oin saw him, he quickly ushered him to Frerin’s bedside. Frerin’s eyes were squeezed shut and there was a healer trying to remove the arrow in Frerin’s knee.

Thorin grabbed Frerin’s hand. His eyes flew open. He looked frantically around.

“Thorin,” he croaked. Thorin covered their clasped hands with his free one.

“Shhhh,” Thorin tried to soothe. “It’s alright.” Much to his horror, tears began to run down Frerin’s cheeks.

“Amrie. Where’s Amrie?” Thorin blinked and looked around the tent. He saw many dwarrows milling around, but no curly-headed hobbits. He swallowed.

“When did you last see her?”

“In front of those blasted gates- damn arrow went through my knee and Amrie got the healers to drag me here.” Thorin gulped. “Wha-what about the others?”

“Thror is dead,” Thorin bit out. Frerin closed his eyes. “I last saw Adad before I faced Azog. The others I do not know.”

“Issenbras and Amrie were together, last I saw them. Bri, Dahlia, and Ollie fell on the first impact. Ro, Tom, and Shem went after Villi after he got separated from us. Cress and Clove have fallen too- I think. I don’t know about Elm and Heather.” Frerin squeezed Thorin’s hand super tight. Thorin winced. Frerin looked desperate. “You must find her- all of them. Please.” Thorin closed his eyes and exhaled loudly.

“I will, I promise.” Frerin released his hand, letting his own flop onto the cot he was laying on. Thorin stood up and lifted the opening flap. He blinked several times at the brightness of the sun. Dwalin straightened up. 

“Well? Are the two lovebirds in there?” Thorin shook his head. 

“No,” he growled. "Just Frerin." Dwalin raised an eyebrow. 

“Where was the lass last seen?” Thorin rubbed his forehead.

“Near the front gates.” Dwalin’s eyebrows raised even higher. He opened his mouth to probably make a ill-put comment when several council members came running up to Thorin. 

“Your majesty!”

“We need to decide what to do with the dead-“

“We need to make battle plans to retake Khazad-dûm-“

“Give him a bit of space, for pity sake!” Shouted Dwalin. Balin came running up, and looked apologetic.

“I’m afraid we can’t brother,” Balin began. “Until Thrain is found Thorin will be acting as king.” Thorin felt five pairs of eyes bore into him. 

“Write down the names of everyone of the fallen- and strip them of their amour and any clan possessions. There are too many to have a mass grave so will have to burn them. As for retaking Khazad-dûm,” Thorin paused and swallowed. “We are not going to reclaim it. It is folly.”

“But sire!”

“Surely you cannot mean that we-“ Thorin glared at them until they quieted down. 

“This place is cursed,” he said slowly and precisely. “Khazad-dûm- Moria is a better name for this cursed ground.” He shook his head. “I will not spare one more dwarrow for a foolish attempt that should have never happened in the first place.” Silence.

“Well then,” Dwalin began slowly. “I guess we better be off to find the fate of your kin.” Thorin gave the council members his most regal nod, and turned towards the gates.

__________

They found Bri, Dahlia, and Ollie first. They were almost unrecognizable, crushed into the mud. Thorin gritted his teeth and hailed for stretchers.

_________

With a grunt Thorin carefully rolled the dwarven bodies off the curly head that he had barely managed to spot. The goblin bodies he threw carelessly in a pile. When he realized what he was looking at, he fell to his knees.

“Mahal.” He cursed. Villi laid stiff, a spear imbedded into his rents of his amour, pinning what looked like Ro on top of him. Thorin gulped. What am I going to tell Dis.....

“Did ya find anyone?!” Dwalin yelled. Thorin cleared the lump from his throat and yelled out hoarsely,

“I found three of the hobbits- and Villi.” Dwalin stood up and tripped over, dropping to his knees.

“Mahal’s hairy balls,” he cursed. Thorin wiped at his face roughly, and hailed for more stretchers. 

He and Dwalin stepped aside to let the volunteers lift the bodies onto stretchers. As they were lifting Ro’s body off of Villi’s, they both heard a faint “ow.” They both looked at each other, and when they realized that they had both heard the same thing they ran over to Villi’s side. 

“Villi!”

“C’mon now, old fellow- don’tcha be sleeping on us.” 

“Villi please wake up!” Villi squeezed his eyes and then cracked them open, squinting in the sunlight. Dwalin sharply motioned for one of the volunteers to grab a healer.

“Ow,” he complained, moving his arm towards his side ever so slightly. “Wha- what happened.” Thorin put his hand on his shoulder. 

“You somehow managed to survive the battle.” Villi winced. 

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered. Thorin felt his lips twitch. 

“Well you did, and you get to go home and tell Dis all about it,” Thorin said as he stepped back, letting the healers quickly set the stretcher beside Villi and began to roll him onto it.

Villi groaned.

__________

Thorin threw down his paperwork and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. It had been a day since the battle of Azanulbizar (or Moria as the whole royal family called it). The air was thick with smoke, and the smell of burning bodies wafted through the air. And there were so many bodies. So many names to be written, items to be labeled, and the never ending clamors of the council- or what remained of it. Why I’m here, Thorin thought sourly. 

Almost all of the Bounders that joined the dwarves had been recovered- except for two. Issenbras and Amrie. Thorin scowled and stood up, pacing around the tent. Dwalin had offered to continue searching for the two, since Thorin had to do paper work and talk down the council members and Frerin’s knee and crutch wouldn’t allow him to climb over the bodies.

Thorin felt a gust of wind hit him, bringing him back to reality. It was Balin. His face looked grey. 

“Balin?” Balin hurried over to Thorin and placed his shaking hands on Thorin’s shoulders.

“Oh, laddie. I’m so, so sorry.” Thorin blinked, what is he talking about....... 

Then it clicked. It felt like he had been slugged in the stomach. He began to frantically shake his head. 

“No, no, no!” Thorin broke free from Balin’s clutch and began to run towards the preppers’ tent. His feet pounded across the hard rock. He slid to a stop and roughly flipped the entrance opened. He burst into the tent, and looked around.

The preppers looked up, and when they realized who was there, they stepped back from the body they were working on. It had brunet curly hair. Thorin gulped loudly, and stepped towards it. 

Issenbras’ face was pale, his bright green eyes clouded and half opened. Thorin placed a shaking hand on his head. He felt tears slide down his face. 

“Oh, Amrâlimê,” Thorin whispered brokenly. He leaned over and put his forehead against Issenbras’. “No.” 

___________

After fifteen minutes, Thorin stopped sobbing. After half an hour he knelt down beside the cot, but kept his hand on Issenbras’ head. After an hour Thorin felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Sire?” Thorin looked up at the prepper. He looked at Thorin with such pity, it made Thorin was to break something. The prepper held out a blood-soaked sheet of paper. 

“It was found on his person, sire. It was written for you.” Thorin reached out and took it. With shaking hands, he carefully unfolded it and began to read it. 

___________

Field of Eregion, near the gates of Khazad-dûm. November, 2799 of the Third Year. - of course Issenbras would date it- always so proper.

Dear Thorin,

I don’t know how to start this, so I will just state everything out. I know I am going to die.  

Thorin stopped short at those words. He felt the paper crinkle softly as he gripped it tighter. He took a deep breath, and began reading again.

I know I am going to die. I think all of us Bounders know that we are going to die. But we are not afraid of dying, as long as we fulfill the duty that we came for. Not the one that the king had for us, but our true duty- to protect your kin and the ones we love. 

I loved you. I still love you. The fact that I can say that now, in the face of death is almost laughable, but I could never say it to you before. I knew unlike Frerin, you had the burden of pleasing your people’s expectations. I am a hobbit, you are a dwarf. Your people would never truly accept us being together. Wet tears joined the dried ones on the paper.

We hobbits don’t know where we go after death, but I do sincerely wish that I will be able to be with you again- someday, somehow. As for our bodies- we Bounders do not care if you bury us under earth or stone, or if you burn us and throw our ashes into the wind- but we do wish to be together. Don’t separate us, please.

I will say this last thing- live, Thorin. Don’t throw your life away with what-ifs and bitterness. Grieve, heal, and be the dwarf that me and Amrie knew that you could be- a great king. Rule with kindness and mercy, and be just. We believed in you the moment we met you, and we will die believing that. I leave you with a very fond farewell. 

With all my love, 

Issenbras Took, of the North-Cleaves.

__________

As Thorin finished Issenbras’ letter, he let out a shaky breath. He heard the wind whistle from the tent flap being opened and he looked up to see an ashen-faced Dwalin enter into the tent, holding what seemed to be a child. Oh Mahal, what was a child doing on a battle field......

That’s not a child.

Thorin felt a new wave of grief and horror flood through him a Dwalin gently laid Amrie down on an empty cot. Dwalin stretched his hand towards Amrie head, but then faltered and clenched his fist against his side. He stumbled over to Thorin, and threw himself down beside him. 

Thorin wrinkled his nose as the smell of decay rose up from Dwalin, but they sat silently as the preppers hesitantly stepped forward and began to wipe the black mud and the blood off of her.

“Does Frerin know?” Dwalin turned towards Thorin. Thorin almost flinched at the dead look in his eyes.

“No,” he said shortly. They sat quietly for a moment, and then Dwalin slapped his leg and began to stand up. Thorin scrambled up and motioned for him to stay. He stuffed Issenbras’ letter in his pocket.

“I’ll do it.” Dwalin hesitated, and then looked at her body. He turned back and gave him a short nod. 

“I’ll watch over them,” he promised. Thorin felt his eyes burn and his vision blurred as he stumbled out and towards the royal tents.

__________

Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Frerin let the sound of him pacing back and forth dull this mind.

Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. He felt a breeze from the tent flap opening, and he cracked his eye open and saw the healer’s aids look disapprovingly. He squeezed his eye shut again and turned so he wouldn’t run into the tent.

Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. Thump, THUNK. 

“Your highness, please-“

“Your highness, you know that you need to rest so that your leg will HEAL.”

“Your highness-“ another breeze hit them, and Frerin’s eyes flew open. He looked past them, and saw Thorin. He looked weary. Frerin pivoted, and hobbled over to him.

“Did you find her? She’s alright, isn’t she??” Thorin looked away and took a deep breath. He looked back at him, and much to Frerin’s horror, tears began to run down Thorin’s face. Frerin felt a chill go down his spine. 

“She gone- isn’t she?” Thorin’s face twisted, and he nodded as his body began to shake. Frerin felt a shudder go through him. His eyes blurred and his nose burned. Blinking rapidly, he gripped onto his crutch tightly. “Take me to her,” Frerin whispered. The aids protested, but Thorin waved them off and began walking towards the preppers’ tent. Frerin followed close behind.

__________

Frerin felt numb as he stumbled into the preppers’ tent. He barely acknowledged that Issenbras was lying on a nearby cot and that Dwalin stood up and left the tent. He went over to Amrie’s bed and just stared.

She was so still. Even when she was asleep, her legs and arms would always twitch and spasm. “Curse of the Bounders,” she had always joked. “Never to be asleep fully.” 

Frerin could still see the emerald green of her eyes, but they were cloudy. They didn’t glitter anymore. His crutch fell to the ground with a clatter.

Frerin sat down on her cot heavily, and carefully swung his legs up. He gently put his arm on top of her, and closed his eyes. 

He just wanted to sleep with her- one last time. 

_________

Thorin sat beside Issenbras and glanced over at Frerin. He hadn’t moved. It had been hours. He turned his head back, and stared blankly at the tent wall.

“We were planning a gorgeous wedding for you two,” Frerin’s voice croaked, breaking Thorin out of his brooding. He turned his head towards Frerin. 

“What?” Thorin hoarsely asked. Frerin cracked open his eyes, and stared off into the distance with a bitter smile on his face. 

“We saw you two- the night before the battle.” Thorin closed his eyes as the memory came flooding back. “Amrie and I had your wedding all planned out. There was going to be flowers everywhere, those fancy glass cups that Amrie was obsessed with, and lots of food.” His voice broke. “It was going to be gorgeous.” Thorin felt tears run down his face. 

“Ahem.”

Thorin’s eyes flew open at the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up at an apologetic prepper. 

“I’m sorry, your majesty- but we need to take the bodies to the pyre with the others.” Thorin squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then opened them and stood up. He placed his hand on Issenbras’ head.

“I will carry him myself.” The prepper opened his mouth, but hesitated.

“I’m sorry sire, but you can’t.” Thorin felt his temperature rise. He straightened up.

“What.” The prepper shrank back. He gulped, and then replied with:

“His head isn’t attached to his body, your majesty. You physically can’t carry him out by yourself.” Thorin felt a new wave a grief flood him as anger strummed through his veins. 

“Then you can help me,” he bit out shortly. The prepper looked terrified, but quickly jumped to the foot of the cot. With a short nod from Thorin, they lifted the cot and carefully carried Issenbras out. 

__________

Frerin glared at the prepper. He tightened his grip around Amrie’s body defiantly.

“No,” he bit out. “You aren’t taking her.” Thorin threw up his hands.

“Issenbras wrote that all the Bounders wanted to be together.”

“I don’t care! You’re not going to burn her!” 

“What do you want us to do then?!” Frerin felt pure rage flow throughout him. He felt his eyes burn as tears slipped out and over his cheeks.

“I WANT TO BURY HER IN THE CRYPTS! I don’t want to leave her here when she didn’t even want to be here in the first place!” Silence. 

“Your highness- the crypts are for dwarves only.” Frerin’s glared at the prepper.

“She is my wife,” he bit out shortly. “She was a princess of the Line of Durin, and my One. She more than qualifies to be buried in the crypts.” Thorin gently placed his hand on Frerin’s shoulder. Frerin quickly considered shrugging it off, but decided against it.

“And what about the fact that hobbits love the sun and everything that grows?” He asked softly. Frerin hated it when Thorin softened his voice. “She wouldn’t want to be buried in those crypts- it’s cold and dark there.” Frerin glared at Thorin and roughly shrugged his hand off his shoulder.

“Oh, DON’T act like you know about hobbits- when in the four years you knew your One you only went to visit him twice.” Thorin’s eyes flashed. Frerin felt a pang of remorse, but stubbornly buried his nose into Amrie’s hair. He heard Thorin storm off, and kept his eyes closed as he felt the prepper bore a hole into him with his eyes. He then heard the prepper leave the tent.

It seemed like centuries later, when Frerin heard the tent flap open again. There was a long, awkward moment of silence, and then:

“Your highness?” Oh for the love of Mahal.....

“What.” Frerin growled. “You’re not going to take her to the pyre.”

“No, your highness- we are going to pack her body so that it can be taken back to Ered Luin.” Frerin felt his eyes burn, and he buried his face into her hair again. He felt hot tears slip out from his closed eyelids and slide down into her hair. 

“Just five more minutes,” he begged. Silence. 

Just as Frerin felt like his heart was about to burst from his chest- he heard a soft,

“Very well.” 

___________

Frerin stood in front of the stone crypts, his face and heart as hard as the stone Amrie was enclosed in. On his right, Thorin stood quietly. They had barely spoke since the argument in the prepper’s tent. On his left, Dis stood still, but tears ran down her face. Villi was in the healer’s halls, having contracted a nasty infection from the spear that killed Ro. Filli was with him, too young to understand the death of his great grandfather, grandfather, and aunt. 

The three Durin’s stood quietly as Thror’s and Thrain’s eulogies were read by a dwarf with a loud, booming voice. A great king, father, and grandfather. Not really, Frerin thought bitterly. A prince, and much loved father and grandfather. And then it was time for Amrie’s eulogy to be read. Frerin felt Dis grab his hand as she began to uncontrollably sob.

Protector, sister, friend, wife and One to Frerin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. Princess of the line of Durin. And so much more...... Frerin bowed his head and clenched his free hand. 

After the eulogies were read, and the bodies were returned back to stone, Frerin stood by Amrie’s crypt as throngs of people walked up to the crypts and left their respects. Only a few came to Amrie’s.

Dwalin and Balin were one of the first to approach. Balin wordlessly placed a pouch of tea on top of the crypt, and came up to Frerin and embraced him. He stepped back in time for Frerin to see Dwalin place a set of daggers beside the pouch of tea. Frerin recognized his and Thorin’s handiwork- one of the many sets gifted to Amrie. He walked up to Frerin and grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a gentle head tap. Frerin quietly patted his shoulder as Oin stepped up.

Oin only stayed briefly, placing a handful of herbs and leaves on top of Amrie’s crypt and whispering gruffly in Frerin’s ear that she wasn’t a bad lass and that he wished he was able to learn more of her folks’ remedies.

As Oin stepped away, Dori came up to Frerin, his eyes red-rimmed. He had little Ori strapped to his back. He didn’t say anything, he just crossed his clenched fist over his chest and bowed. Frerin nodded his head in acknowledgement of the transfer of servitude. As Dori turned towards the crypt, Frerin saw Nori place something on top of Amrie’s crypt. He turned towards Frerin and stepped towards him.

“It’s a thief’s lamp,” Nori stated almost defiantly. Frerin blinked.

“What?”

“I saw you looking at what I placed on her crypt- it’s a thief’s lamp. She told me that hobbits don’t know where they go after they die. So maybe Eugenides will guide her to the halls of Mahal.” Frerin felt something in his chest soften, and stepped closer to Nori and embraced him. Nori stiffened, but Frerin held onto him for a short moment before taking a step back. Nori coughed in his fist.

“Well- I’m, I’m going to go with Dori then,” he said awkwardly. Frerin nodded, and rasped out a thank-you to Nori’s retreating back.

After several hours, the last dwarf trailed out of the crypts. Frerin sat on the cold floor to ease the aching of his legs. He let his head fall against Amrie’s crypt, and closed his eyes. 

“Man lananubukhs me, Uzfakuh,” he whispered.

__________

Forty-six years later, Ered Luin. 

Bang, bang, Bang! 

Thorin watched, his heart aching, as Frerin pounded the metal into shape. He had never been the same since Amrie and Issenbras died. He would put on a brave face for Filli, and Killi- but when they left the darkness would come back.

At the sounds of adolescent voices yelling his name, Thorin snapped out of his thoughts just in time to see Filli and Killi barrel into the forge. 

“Filli! Killi!” They came to an abrupt stop and looked at Thorin sheepishly. He set his hammer down and looked at them sternly.

“What did I say about running around in the forge?” 

“Don’t?” Killi said sheepishly. 

“But Uncle, it’s for a good reason!” Thorin turned towards Filli and raised an eyebrow.

“And what reason is that?”

“Killi has chosen his main weapon!” Thorin paused, and then turned back to Killi. He felt a wide grin grow onto his face.

“That is great news!” He praised. “What is it? Ax, or sword?” Killi shifted, but straightened up and proclaimed;

“A bow, uncle!” CLANK. Everyone’s heads swung towards Frerin. His eyes were stormy.

“I’m sorry,” he bit out. He threw his hammer down and stormed out. Thorin turned back to Killi, who had shrunken down dejectedly. 

“Is uncle Frerin not pleased with my choice?” Thorin sighed, and stepped up to Killi, placing his hands on his shoulders. 

“It’s not that, Little Raven, it’s just that someone very important in Frerin’s life used a bow with great skill.” He looked around at the forge, and motioned Filli and Killi to follow him. “Come, I’ll buy you a pastry and tell you about her.” They left the forge and headed to the markets.

When they hit the market, they passed by the glassmaker- and Thorin felt a twinge. The same twinge when Frerin proclaimed that he hated glass. The same twinge on the rare occasion that he would allow himself to think of Issenbras.

They stopped in front of a sweets cart, And Thorin quietly paid for three pastries, despite the vender’s protest. And with sweet pastries in hand, Thorin told Filli and Killi about their aunt Amaryllis, and the eleven brave hobbits who followed her to protect the line of Durin in the battle of Moria.