Author’s Note: (1) I’ve tried to stay within Tolkien canon from the very beginning of the story, but have decided to follow Richard Armitage’s ‘head canon’ for a certain character related to Thorin - as he spoke of about the back story he wrote — that Dis, Thorin’s younger sister, died in Erebor (in Tolkien’s appendices, she survived and accompanied Thorin and his people to the Grey Mountains where she bore Fili and Kili).

(2) The wedding ritual is loosely based on “Who’s the Bride? - A Dwarven Marriage” by the Dwarrow Scholar here: http://dwarrowscholar.mymiddleearth.com/2013/04/11/whos-the-bride-dwarven-marriage/

~~~ 

Thrain was a dwarf with wide shoulders and an imposing countenance, second only to his father Thror.  He had lost his left eye in a battle long ago, giving him a fearsome look that never seemed to shift into anything else.  Across his forehead was a tattoo that made him look as menacing as the toughest warrior, though in the great halls of Erebor, Thrain was the king’s chief counselor.  

When the dragon Smaug overtook Erebor, he had been in the great hall listening to the rest of the counselors discuss matters regarding the state of the mountain.  Maybe it had to do with water or food, or even the state of relations between Erebor and neighboring towns, such as Dale.  Among the counselors with him was my father, Lord Migan.  As my father searched through the halls for my mother, staying longer than he should have within the poisoned halls of Erebor, Thrain stood by Thorin’s side defending the front gates.  All this my mother told me on her deathbed, the visions now taking residence in my dreams, just as they had in hers.   

My recollections of Thrain were scarce.  But the moment he was alone in the room with me, the memory of seeing him standing next to my father came back to me.  He had been present when I petulantly announced to King Thror that I was going to marry Thorin when I grew up.  And though my memory of who really sent Thorin to the jewelers’ work room was unreliable, it was Thrain who told Thorin to craft a circlet for “little Frigga to wear” for having earned it for my boldness.

But if I had been bold then, there was nothing to be bold about now.  I was filled with shame as he drew closer, wanting only for the floor to swallow me up forever.  How could I be caught so boldly kissing one who was about to be married to someone else?  I expected him to scold me, ready to ask for his forgiveness.  

Thrain watched me for a few moments, his eye narrowing as he took in the cloak that I now drew over myself, hiding the dress I’d been so proud of earlier.  I could feel him looking at me closely, studying the scar on the side of my face.  Instinctively, my hand went up to conceal it from him.

“When my son told the king and I that you had been found, it was my honor to tell Lady Lyssan the news,” he began.  “We were happy, of course, for why shouldn't we be? A child so long ago taken from us, now found at a time when we'd lost all hope for anything worth hoping for.  Since the dragon took our only home from us, hope is all we have left, you see.”

“For years, your parents searched for you,” he continued, his voice filling the room as he began to walk around me, studying me as I brought the cloak tighter about me.  “They offered reward after reward for any news of you.  Chests filled with jewels mined and crafted from deep within the depths of Erebor.”  

He chucked, though there was no mirth in it.  “And for years, men took us for fools by misleading us about your whereabouts.  Yet even when we suspected their game, your parents paid the reward because they kept the hope alive that one day they’d find you.  Did you know that despicable men — and dwarves — scarred innocent children just to collect the reward?  Two of them brought us their bodies as proof, for the children did not survive the scarring.”  

I stared at him, horrified.  Thrain stopped his circling, standing in front of me now.  “Tell me, Lady Frigga, if such men could go as far as to lie to us about where we could find this ‘scarred dwarf-child,' as they had called you then, scarring and even killing innocent children, how difficult would it be for someone to mislead us still now? To find a real dwarf this time willing to play along and scar her just as young Frigga had been scarred?”

My fear of Thrain disappeared, replaced first by humiliation and then outright anger.  Rage built within me, the unfairness of everything that had happened since I was a child finally rising to the surface.  I raised my eyes to glare at Thrain, not caring anymore whether he was a prince.  I wouldn’t have cared if he was the king.  And at that very moment, I wouldn’t even have cared if he was Thorin.

“If I were truly an impostor, what could I possibly gain when there are no more gold and precious stones to collect as a reward?” I asked. “You no longer have a mountain from where to mine a single pathetic stone for my troubles.  So tell me, Prince Thrain, where is the reward now?”

Thrain stared back at me, his shoulder tightening about him as if he were ready to pounce, his bearing made even more threatening by the magnificent pelt that rested upon his broad shoulders, making him seem like a lion towering over me.  

Maybe he was taken aback by my impudence, and rightly so.  In Erebor, I would have been punished for speaking to the prince like that.  But then kings and princes never figured in my life in Greenbanû, and even if they did, it no longer mattered to me now.   I held my chin high, remembering how he had roughly pushed me aside the day of the goblin raid, shutting me away from Thorin.  

“I never asked to be taken away from Erebor,” I said, choosing my words as carefully as I could muster while trying to remain calm.  “To be separated from my parents and forced to be someone who I wasn’t, or for my beard to be shaved off completely every day just so I could fit in, to be told again and again that everything that I really was not normal — and to finally believe them for no one from Erebor ever came looking for me.”

I was livid by the time I said those last words, asking myself why I bothered with such stubborn dwarves, even if they were my own people.  “So if you came here hoping to find proof that I am that ’scarred dwarf-child,' then you shall leave disappointed for I am not proving who I am to you or to anyone else.  I can see now that I do not belong here.”

I headed towards the door, wanting only to be alone and get away from anyone remotely related to dwarves.  I remembered the inn where Bernd and Jürgen were staying and would go there.  I could stay there for the night and head back home to Greenbanü with them in the morning.  But as I neared the door, Thrain spoke.

“Forgive me for doubting you,” he said.  “My son's belief in you should be - and is - proof enough.  I know that now, for only the little Frigga I remember could ever speak to me like that.  But can you blame a father who has seen so much death - having lost his only daughter to that vile dragon Smaug, and almost losing one of his sons in a goblin raid?  I am not made of stone, Lady Frigga.  The losses for my family have been great, and I sought only to protect myself and them from more loss.  But I see now that I was wrong. 

If there were things I had wanted to say in return — a word of comfort for his loss, maybe — none came forth from my mouth at that moment.  I was too angry and too hurt to think clearly.  I only wanted to get out of the inn and take in the fresh air of Fennhill.  I no longer wanted to force myself to be gracious enough to forgive all the things I’d just heard spoken against me, nor watch someone I loved marry someone else.

I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, almost colliding with a group of dwarves, one of them clad in an almost iridescent rose-colored gown, her red hair plaited about her beautiful face.  She was walking next to an older male dwarf, his hair a dull reddish hue accented with streaks of gray.  He did not look especially happy on this day though she looked absolutely radiant.  

I did not wait to learn her name for I knew I had just seen the woman Inge had claimed was Thorin’s betrothed - Lady Máni.  I slipped through the midst of the entourage, dwarves who grumbled about the ill timing of such a ceremony, that the prince no longer had a home nor riches for his bride, and that the only thing that led to this was the bride’s insistence that love would see her through the lean times that faced her after today.  For after all, she said, the prince of Erebor loved her.

It almost made me laugh, but I kept on walking, telling myself this was not any of my concern.  I had made a huge mistake coming here and all I wanted to do now was leave.

The entourage walking past the door to my room prevented Thrain from leaving shortly after I did.  His massive frame did not help matters either, and as I took one more look towards the hallway, I saw the Lady Máni disappear through the double doors that led to the hall where she was to be pronounced as Thorin’s bride.  No, I didn’t have the heart to watch him pledge his love to someone else, and I knew it was foolish of me to think that he did care for me. For when had Thorin ever said that he loved me?

He never had.

But as I turned away, Thrain’s words finally sank in and a sense of loss  overwhelmed me.  Dis was dead, I thought.  And a father, no matter whether he was a prince, a toymaker or a farmer, was grieving. 

I hurried back towards my room but Thrain was gone.  

I hurried after him.  I didn't know what I was going to say but I wanted him to know how sorry I was for his loss at least, for it was the least I could do, no matter how humiliated and angry he had made me feel.  I wanted him to know that I wanted to be here because for the first time since I'd been taken, I was finally home with my own people, no matter what he or anyone thought. 

I mustered all my courage to enter the hall after Thrain, hoping to catch him before the ceremony started but he was already halfway towards the front of the room where the king and the rest of the wedding party waited.  I found myself swallowed up by the crowd at the rear of the room, realizing then that the ceremony had begun.

Lady Máni stood with her back facing the rest of the dwarves at the front of the room, her rose gown separating her from everyone else.  Thorin stood next to her, and my chest tightened as my eyes drifted towards him, barely able to focus through my tears as I gazed at his long dark hair falling over the back of his emerald green tunic.  They stood before the older dwarf I had seen next to Lady Máni as she walked the halls.   I understood then that he was her father, for when he raised a hammer in the air to signify the staying of Mahal’s hammer upon the dwarves by Eru and then lowered it, both families formed a circle around the couple, signifying their protection of both the bride and the groom.  

My knowledge of dwarven marriage rituals was very limited, and as the couple was surrounded by the circle of dwarves represented by both families, the sense of not belonging in the room grew even stronger.  I felt so out of place, like an uninvited guest or a spurned lover who did not know better than stay away from her lover’s wedding.  For wasn’t that what I was?  

Instead I stood there the whole time, staring at my boots as the contract was read, and as both parties cheered loudly to rejoice the union.  When I could not bear it any longer, I quietly made my way towards the door, my progress impeded by dwarves who surged forward to witness the speaking of the vows.  

“Do you accept Lady Máni, daughter of —” 

I cursed under my breath as I hurried towards the door, wishing I could cover my ears as the answer came.

“Yes, I do,” replied Thorin — only the voice wasn’t Thorin's.  

I stopped and turned to look at the front of the room, suddenly aware that Thorin stood on the perimeter of the circle and not within it standing next to the bride.  For someone else stood next to her, and though he had Thorin’s regal bearing, it wasn’t him.  

My mouth turned dry.  My heart thundered inside my chest.  How could I have been so foolish? I thought as I found myself staring at Frerin’s face as he and Lady Máni spoke their vows together, their voices drowned out by the thoughts in my head.  It was Frerin who had been betrothed all this time, I told myself again.  Frerin in his emerald green tunic.  It had never been Thorin.

Suddenly I wanted to laugh out loud over my own naiveté — and a choked sound escaped my lips instead, prompting a few dwarves to look towards my direction.  Horrified, I fled the hall and ran towards my own room, shutting the door behind me.  I was shaking, tears flowing down my cheeks as relief flooded over me.  How could I have been so foolish?

The past two months filled with pointless apprehension washed over me.  I barely remembered each day as it blended to the next, walking through each moment as if in a daze, barely hearing what people said to me.  I had only wanted to keep myself too busy to think clearly.  But I could not blame Inge for saying what she had said.  What did she know of dwarven unions?  And didn’t she say that some things weren’t what they seemed?   

My fingers shook as I undid my cloak.  It suddenly grew too warm in the room.  My breathing still hadn’t abated for my heart was beating — no, it was thundering — inside my chest.  But none of what I had just learned meant anything.  For just because Thorin was not getting married did not mean that he was mine.  No, he had promised me nothing of the sort since the very beginning.  

But at least I knew now that he had never sought to deceive me.

A knock on the door startled me from my thoughts and I hastily wiped away my tears.  The cheers from the wedding party at the end of the hall vibrated through the walls and as I opened the door, Thorin strode in.

“I saw you leave the ceremony so suddenly.  Are you unwell?” He asked, frowning as he peered at me.  I had forgotten to light another candle, for the one of the two that had been lit earlier had now been extinguished.

I shook my head, trying hard not to laugh for I suddenly felt giddy, no longer able to handle the emotions welling over me.  “No,” I whispered. 

“Then why are  you crying?” Thorin asked, perplexed.  

I found myself moving away from him, no longer trusting myself for I wanted to throw myself at him without caring about what anyone thought.  I wanted to hold him and know that he was real again, that I wasn’t stealing him from anyone — at least not at that moment.  

With every backward step I took, Thorin followed me, his eyes moving from my face down to the front of my dress.  My chest flushed with color as I brought my arms in front of me to pull the cloak around me.  But I realized that I had taken my cloak off.  When my back hit the wall, I had nowhere to go.  And this time I had nothing to hide.  

“All this time, I thought it was you who was getting married,” I whispered. 

Thorin smiled faintly.  “Now why would you believe that?”

“The last time Inge was in Dale, she saw you escort Lady Mani into Erebor.   She told me that you were betrothed, and that the cities of Erebor and Dale were celebrating the arrangement,” I said, my voice shaking.  “How could I not believe her?”

Thorin chuckled.  “What does Inge know of our ways?” He asked as he brought his hand towards my face, his fingers brushing lightly against my cheek.  “She speaks no Khuzdul to understand that I was welcoming Lady Mani and her family into Erebor — nothing more.  So this is what has brought this wedge between us?  You thought me betrothed to someone else?”

“But she said —”

Suddenly Thorin silenced me with a kiss so intense it took my breath away, my body riding up against the wall as he crushed his body against mine.  His hand went behind my neck, his fingers cushioning my head against the wall as his other hand circled my waist.  My belly clenched, the ache I felt for him every night since he made love to me in the cave now awoken completely as I clung to him, my fingers tugging at his hair.  

“Foolish dwarf,” he murmured as he drew away, our ragged breaths intermingling between us.  “What am I to do with you?”

 Thorin's hand left my waist to caress my face, his thumb tracing my lips. He kissed me again, this time with a tenderness that made me weak in the knees.  His tongue gently slipped between my lips, tasting what lay within and I brought my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he groaned.  I felt his hand leave my face, caressing the skin of my neck and moving lower, gliding along the rise of my breasts pushed up by the tight bodice of my dress.  I pulled away, my skin burning wherever his hand touched as I leaned my head back against the wall, barely catching my breath.

I glanced towards the door as dwarves noisily walked past my room, their voices filtering through the door as they made their way to the dining hall.  Thorin’s thumb stroked the sensitive skin of my lower lip, his eyes never leaving my face.

“Shouldn’t we join the others?” I asked nervously. 

“They can wait,” Thorin murmured, his thumb still tracing my lips.  “Or would you rather join them now?”

No, I wanted to tell him, but I knew that I did not need words to tell him what I thought, or what I really wanted to do now.  I lifted my face up to kiss him, my hand slipping around his neck to pull his head down towards me.  And as Thorin kissed me again, I lost myself in his arms, letting go of the world completely.  

I realized then that I loved him, and all that mattered to me now was this  — our coming together one more time before I’d welcome whatever it was that awaited me beyond the four walls that insulated us from the world outside.  For I saw in Thorin’s eyes the agony of his own longing, and it thrilled me beyond reason, pushing me further to the edge of my being that sent me reeling, especially when I heard him breatthe my name against my ear, saying three words that made my soul soar.