Someone to Watch Over Me

Chapter Thirty-Three

The wedding of Thorin II Oakenshield and Seren Gilwynn of Dale took place on a gloriously sunny late autumn afternoon, in the fully restored Throne Room of Erebor. Work on the room had gone on for weeks, through night and day, with the Iron Hill dwarves returning to the city to offer their services as a wedding gift of sorts to their kin and his bride.

Seren stood in the antechamber, trying not to pace, but unable to keep herself from doing so. Nervous energy simmered through her, although she didn't quite understand why. This was the culmination of everything she'd dreamed of since she was fourteen summers. In only minutes, she would make her way down the wide aisle, to where Thorin and Bofur would be waiting for her. Although the ceremony would include the dwarvish customs, her being half Daughter of Man meant she would incorporate Man's customs as well. For that reason, she chose to wear the dress she'd been given in Rivendell; the flowing white gown with the long, open sleeves, edged in pure gold. With Narnerra's help, she'd managed to actually do something with her hair other than a braid, as Narnerra—one of the few dwarf women in Erebor—was quite the artist, twisting and braiding and pinning Seren's hair away from her face in a complicated pattern, but sent it tumbling down her back in a fall of golden curls. She'd woven a ring of flowers—daisies, lavender, and poppies—and gently set it atop Seren's head.

The doors opened and two dwarf pages smiles as she stepped out onto the royal blue runner leading to the dais at the aisle's end. There, dressed in robes of blue and gold, stood Thorin, looking more handsome than she'd ever seen. Bofur stood beside him, and her eyes misted over at the pride she saw in them. She paid little heed to the dwarves—both of Erebor and the Iron Hills—gathered to witness their joining, and the walk to Thorin passed in the blink of any eye.

She faced him and he winked, whispering, "You look beautiful, kurdelê. 'Atmelê."

"What?"

"My soul."

She pressed her lips together as he caught her hands in his and his thumbs brushed against her. "That's beautiful."

"Dwarves have their moments."

Bofur cleared his throat and began with the blessings that she and Thorin would recite before everyone. She carefully repeated each of the seven, even though her tongue seemed determined to fumble over the unfamiliar words. But, when she did mangle one, Thorin just winked and his fingers tightened about hers.

Then, he eased a slender gold ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. On the ring was engraved a raven, whose wings looked very much like the one on the crown Thorin wore. The light bounced off the gold, flashing with the slightest of movement. She swallowed hard as she took the heavier gold ring from Bofur and carefully eased it onto the fourth finger of Thorin's left hand.

He smiled down at her, slowly flexing that hand, the ring throwing off sparks of light and color from the hundreds of flickering torches. Bofur held out a pint of malt, and first she took a drink (and fought off the grimace as she wasn't overly fond of malt) and then Thorin did. As he finished it off and passed the glass back to Bofur, the hall echoed with the thunder and roar of the dwarves in attendance.

Then, Thorin took her in his arms and growled, "I believe I actually prefer Man's custom of sealing the covenant," as he bent toward her and his mouth slashed down over hers.

She smiled against his lips, parting hers to tease him with just the tip of her tongue, which made the guests erupt even louder. When he pulled away, Thorin grinned. "It is final now, love. You are mine. Nalish."

"You say that as if I should be wary," she slid her arms about his waist and shook her head, "but you seem to forget, I've wished for this moment since I was but fourteen summers."