Of Dragons, Dwobbits and Dwarves

Chapter Forty-Three

Bilba tucked the last of her braids into place and grabbed her sword where it was resting against the bedpost. Fili had made her a new set of weapons to replace the ones lost or damaged during the battle, most of which were already strapped to her legs, wrists, arms, and back. She settled the sword around her waist and was doing a final check of the fit of her armor, also a new set courtesy of Fili, when someone knocked on her bedroom door.

Already aware of who it was, Bilba sent a mental acceptance, and then turned to face the door as it opened.

Frerin walked in, similarly armored. Varegeth was coiled across his shoulders, where he'd pretty much taken up residence over the past month, sound asleep. Frerin didn't seem to mind, most likely because he didn't have to put up with the small dragon's constant chatter, Bilba imagined. Frerin grinned at her and held his arms out like a doting parent to a small child. "There's my girl. You ready?"

Something very much like pure, unadulterated adoration rushed through Bilba and she ran forward to literally throw herself into his arms. It was a bit awkward with weapons and armor in the way but Frerin still caught her easily, spun her around and then set her carefully on her feet again.

In the month since the battle for the heart and soul of Middle Earth, Frerin had undergone a dramatic change. Though Thorin, and others, had insisted he rest and recover, he'd instead thrown himself into the recovery of Erebor. His body had lost the gauntness from the mines, and he'd slowly began to walk straighter and with his head up as the darkness of the mines had receded. There was still a shadow to his eyes in moments when he thought no one was looking, and Bilba doubted he'd ever be exactly as he'd been before Moria, but he now looked every bit the prince he was, instead of the Arena slave he'd been.

"Come on," Frerin said, throwing an arm across her shoulders. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Bilba nodded, relief flooding her. The very last place she wanted to be on that day was Erebor.

They left her room, moving into the main living room, and Bilba felt a second burst of relief to see that it was empty. She'd barely seen her father over the last few weeks as he'd worked in the recovery. Bilba had been working with the dragons to clear out rubble and had only caught quick glimpses of her father as he directed the guard in similar efforts.

They reached the main door leading out into the halls, and Frerin stepped forward to grab the handle and pull it open. Bilba walked out, and immediately felt her heart drop at the sight of her father, and Fili, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed and wearing matching expressions.

They were not amused expressions.

Bilba studied them both, considering, and then made her decision. She stepped forward to Fili and reached out for him. He obediently pushed off the wall to allow her to loop her arms around his neck. She considered trying the weird looks the court ladies were always sending toward males but decided against it. She couldn't deny it seemed to get results for them, but it was also downright ridiculous.

Fili's eyes narrowed, even as his arms came up to wrap around her waist. "I think I'm insulted. Why'd you decide I'm the pushover?"

"Because she's got a brain in her head," Dwalin growled from next to them. He scowled at Frerin. "Where do you think you're going with my daughter, asshole?"

We're going to go hunt orcs, Bilba informed him flatly.

Fili frowned. "The ceremony is today."

Hence why we're going, Bilba replied, rolling her eyes. They can hold it without me.

"You're one of the guests of honor," Fili replied dryly. "Pretty sure they can't."