I managed to get a bit more sleep in, before Bofur and Bombur woke me up and dragged me away from my husband. The Company had dinner together just last night, where we went over the last few details about the wedding, but apparently that’s not enough preparation where a royal wedding is concerned? Bombur and the kitchens have been cooking for almost a week now, due to the sheer size of the crowd to be fed — and the Feast of Good Health itself also required celebrating!
I’m to be squeezed into my Durin blue outfit for today, and apparently I won’t be released from it until the afternoon. Giver help me breathe.
Finally, Thorin and I have been able to have some time to ourselves. We took a walk out on the ramparts, listening to the evening bells of Dale in the vale below.
I remember the first time we did this upon our return to Erebor back in SR 1344. Given our past history with this part of Erebor, and all the painful memories elicited before, I had initially had my misgivings. But I think the time we had spent in the Shire rebuilding our relationship in marriage helped a great deal for our first walk back here. Though my breath came short and my hands were clammy, I at least did not recall any bad memories.
It has taken countless walks here together for the knots in my chest to fade. Sometimes, even now, I still panic if Thorin presses me too close to the walls up here. But for the most part, I feel as if I have reclaimed something of my own — as if I have pierced my own personal dragon with the arrow of Thorin’s love and support.
But back to tonight. Thorin was very pleased with something that had transpired in his meetings today. When I asked him about it, he said that according to reports, the meal programme to help the healers in Erebor has been such a success that Bard intends to implement the same in Dale and Laketown. He claims that it’s all because of me, but I demurred, saying that Bombur and the kitchens did most of the work and I was just a glorified serving-lad. He laughed and kissed me at that, saying that the pox patients have likened me to the Giver of Fruits herself. That made my face heat up.
Still, I’m glad to hear that Bard is planning such a venture, though I suggested to Thorin that interim help to Laketown from Erebor could potentially be appreciated, especially since Erebor has not been as badly affected as the settlements of Men. He agreed, probably remembering the old promises we made to Laketown to share the wealth. While Erebor does not have the capacity to make the meals themselves (plus they will go cold during the delivery process), we can send needed supplies for the inoculation.
Our thoughts then turned from these serious things towards our delayed wedding. “I apologise for keeping you in Erebor for so long,” said Thorin. “I know it is not an ideal place for you long-term.”
“I think the first time there was some culture shock,” I mused. He snorted at that, as if to say that was an understatement. After all, I very nearly destroyed our courtship over the events of our first year in Erebor.
“Still, if you are feeling unwell,” he began, but I silenced that train of thought as quickly as I could, in the best way I knew how. He leaned into the kiss, his arms coming up around me to draw me in ever-closer. I felt breathless, like it was our first kiss all over again.
(Or, rather, our second kiss, since the first one had been pretty dreadful as far as his reaction went.)
“I have purpose here now,” I reminded him. “I have people to care for, things to do. I’m not withering away like a neglected houseplant this time, which is all the better because there is still so much left to do! Time will fly by until the wedding here, my love, and then I will be travelling all over Middle-earth until I am sick of it.”
“Say that again,” said Thorin suddenly.
“Until I am sick?” I wondered.
“No, the part after ‘time will fly by’,” he corrected.
I laughed at him, the big sappy lout. “My love?” I ventured. His face lit up like the way the peak of Erebor itself lights up in the morning sun.
“Again,” he commanded.
“My love,” I replied, easily and freely, and he laughed and spun me around until I started kicking and protesting for him to put me down lest I get sick all over his kingly robes.
It has been years since our first meeting in Bag End — six years on this very date, I believe — and I find that each day with him is still an adventure of the most wonderful sort. I cannot believe we have been married for almost five years now by Shire accounts. I cannot wait to marry him again in Erebor.
I hadn’t realised until these past couple of days what a terrible cook Gandalf can be at times. I suppose only having to feed yourself on the Road leads to terrible habits. I cook for the two of us most of the time, especially if I don’t want to try my chances with whatever strange concoction Gandalf might come up with, but I have to say, I’m no Bombur either. And that makes me miss Bombur.
Bombur and the children often stare at me pitifully, as if they are questioning why I no longer look the King in the eyes. I could feel their eyes on me at lunch today. It is difficult to eat.
While Bombur and I were talking about my imminent departure and all of the provisions that Gandalf and I may need for the road, the King appeared to talk about the storehouses and supplies for the rest of the Mountain. There was a sort of uneasy silence between us before I left.
I have opted to take my meals in my room tonight. Bombur and Súna delivered the food, some of which I recognised from last night, and said that they just found the food cooling this morning and some of it was heated back up and served to the rest of the mountain, and that whoever had made them was certainly being a great help for the kitchens at breakfasttime.
I didn’t tell them who made the food but I find I cannot eat supper now.
As it is both the end of Khebabnurtamrâg as well as the beginning of the reign of the new King Under the Mountain, the feast tonight was lavish beyond belief. Bombur outdid himself, I think.
The King came to speak with me shortly after the feast began. We exchanged pleasantries. I walked away. It is difficult to look at him directly, and I do not wish to spend more time talking to him than what is required of me.
