After the Fire

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"There you are."

Jasna started when Thorin came up behind her as she stood out in the courtyard at sunset. In the weeks she'd been gone, someone had taken it upon themselves to clear out the debris and undergrowth, to plant flowers and a garden and she smiled at the flower boxes along the wall's perimeter. It looked as if someone had planted herbs, which was something Narnerra kept saying she was going to do, so Jasna wondered if she was responsible for them.

"Is something wrong?" He slid his arms about her waist, tugging her against him.

"No. Not wrong, exactly."

"Then what is it? I thought perhaps you'd come down to my chambers."

She smiled at the soft invitation in his voice, closing her eyes as she leaned back into him. "I h-h-have a confession to m-m-make."

"A confession?"

She nodded. "I went to pay a call on Fíli. With Narnerra. I'll be working with him to g-g-get him on his feet."

"He's been frustrated by how slowly his recovery has gone."

"I kn-know. He and Narnerra said the same."

"So, perhaps, instead of coming here every day from Dale, you should just remain here."

She turned toward him. "My mother w-w-w-would not l-l-like that."

He shrugged. "She can stay here as well. I'll have apartments set up for you to share until the wedding."

"Which we h-h-h-have yet to even set a d-d-date for."

His eyes danced. "As soon as possible, I think."

"Thorin, you're a k-k-king. A r-r-royal wedding takes time."

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but it seemed to her that he flinched with her words. But, then, he smiled, shaking his head. "I care not about the fanfare and nonsense, Jasna. Let's just go into Dale and have Bard perform the ceremony."

"Thorin!"

"What?"

She sighed softly, her cheeks growing warm. "I know to y-y-you, it's all fanfare and nonsense, but t-t-t-to me? It's something I n-never dreamed I'd have. I confess, I rather l-like the idea of the fanfare and nonsense."

His nose wrinkled. "You do? But you don't strike me as the fanfare sort."

"What does that even m-m-mean—the fanfare sort?"

"I mean, you are practical and pragmatic, not given to fancy and fairy stories."

"Not given to f-f-fancy and f-f-fairy stories? Thorin, those were all I had growing up. Th-th-those were what I clung to as a child. What l-l-little girl doesn't dr-dr-dream of being a princess?"

His fingertips swept lightly along her back, his eyes softer now. "It means that much to you, mesmel?"

"I know it seems silly to you, but yes."

"Then you shall have it." He bent to her, his lips gentle, his beard prickly as he swept a kiss across her lips. "And when would you wish to have it, then?"

"Perhaps this summer? The plains are already showing s-s-signs of regrowth and the c-c-courtyard will beautiful as well."

"You wish an outdoor wedding?"

"Where w-w-would you hold it if I was dwarven?"

"In the Great Hall, most likely."

"Thorin, w-w-will everyone f-f-fit in the Great Hall?"