Loving Gin

Human Age Equivalent - 21

"Must we invite the Elves?"

"Here, Thorin. Have another turkey leg." As young as she was, Gin saw the storm brewing and she watched under lowered eyes as her mother and her future mother-in-law and her future grandmother-in-law - who just so happened to be the Queen - wink and nod appreciatively.

"They are invited, Thorin," Thrór answered swiftly. He lifted his goblet for a servant to refill. "We cannot uninvite them."

"Watch me."

"It would be rude."

"We are dwarves, are we not?"

There was twittering around the table at that pronouncement, which only made Thorin more irate.

"I do not understand why we need such a huge, elaborate, formal state wedding at all. Gin and I wanted something... private. Just the family."

The room went silent, all eyes on the bride and groom-to-be before exploding into an uproar, with the males - Gin's father, Eyða, Thrór and Thráin, bellowing as if they were ready to go to battle. Thorin expected one or both to call up the Dwarven Armies; yell 'Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd aimênu!' and start a war over the fact they just wanted something simple. The females were red in the face and shouting at each other. Thorin knew he heard his mother - You are a Prince of Erebor - as if that was supposed to humble him like it did when he was younger. Gin's grandmother was yelling, after all this was her wedding as well, and shouldn't the children's wishes be taken into consideration? Her mother was crying; her daughter deserved a lavish wedding, every dwarf-lass dreams of her special day! It was quite a sight, the servants disappearing back into the shadows. He felt a tap on this elbow.

Gin nodded towards the door; her intent, very clear.

The two slid from the large dining room in the King's Chambers - this was an important meeting indeed - and quickly hurried to the main hall.

"We need to hide, Gin. The minute they realize we are gone-" Apparently, Gin had a place picked out and she yanked his hand, Thorin gladly following. Within minutes, he knew where they were going, where they were heading. They found the winding, hidden staircase of their youth and climbed high to the balcony, that quiet terrace where so long ago, Thrór chastised and bonded with a young, irate dwarfling who trying so hard to pretend he did not like a certain dwarf-lass.

The moon was up, full and bright. The City of Dale was lit of for the evening, fireflies winking and playing among the tulips on the mountain. Many of these flowers were being grown specially for the Prince and his Beloved's wedding.

Thorin put his arms around Gin, tucking her under his chin. "Do you want all of this?"

She sighed heavily. "No, but considering who you are..."

He hugged her tighter. "Does it matter who I am? Gin." He pulled away, ducking his head to look her in the eye. "Would you marry me if I were a simple miner?"

"THORIN!" Gin turned red. "I have loved you as long as I can remember! Even when you were a monster growing up! How COULD you? Do you REALLY think that I would marry someone simply because of their status? You arrogant, self-centered, boor-"

He kissed her at the point, keeping her outburst short and softening her temper. When they come up for air, she whispered, "Do you remember what Yavannah whispered to you on your birth?"

"Aye."

"Did it concern a Dwarf? A specific dwarf?"

"Ooooh, aye!" He smiled and grabbing her by her hips, pulled her into him, grinding himself at her juncture. "And I plan on doing exactly what she told me to do the night we are joined!" Soon, they were kissing again. "You?"

"Aye." For a time, the two were unaware of anything, but each other.

"Thorin?"

"Hmmm?"

More kissing.

"Gin?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want this huge ceremony or would you rather something... more personal, quiet?"

At this, her shoulders fell. "Aye. I do want something... just us and our families and friends, but with your family connections... truly," she rambled on, feeling his sigh, "if it were just the Dwarves, I would be fine. I don't mind Dáin Ironfoot and the Iron Hills Dwarves, because I know they are your family-"

"They will be your family as well."

"True," she admitted, "and I remember when they came for the summer eclipse celebration - a gwiil, twelve years ago..." her voice trailed off in memory. There had been a rare summer solar eclipse and Thrór decided that there needed to be a festival of Dwarven proportions and invited his great nephew and the dwarves of the Iron Hills.

That Dwarf could break some plates and had no problems going nose to nose with the King of Erebor and drinking him under the table.

It had been great fun. Took a month to clean up the mess...

Thorin had had a hangover that lasted for days. So did Dwalin. They had been bad. So bad, he still blushed thinking about it and he prayed Gin never found out how bad he had been. He didn't remember the wench's name. Neither one of their names, come to think of it, much less what they looked like. For some time, every time he went to Dale, he kept his head down. Mahal forbid, he run across one of them and they recognized him. That would be embarrassing.

He realized suddenly that Gin had resumed talking.

"But I don't understand why all of Dale and Esgorath is invited... much less the Elves. I take that back," she hung her head. "I do understand why they are invited. I just wish it could be us. Our friends. Or why can't we just have our wedding and throw a celebration later?"

"Wish that we could."

For some minutes, the two simply held each other, wishing things could be different. They didn't realize that Balin was in the shadows, with his back turned.

"You know, this is such a beautiful spot," he finally spoke, clearing his throat. "So quiet and peaceful." He appeared to be contemplating the stars from the other side of the balcony. "I would bring my love up, if I had one. But I do not." With this he slowly turned. "I am sorry to interrupt, but the two of you are being searched for and it would be better if you went back on your own, rather than a group of guards storming the balcony here and embarrass you and your bride-to-be." He nodded towards the stairwell. "There is an extra torch on the landing."

Gin stepped back from Thorin's embrace and hugged the older dwarf before stepping back. "Thank you."

Before he could follow, Balin grabbed Thorin by the sleeve. "I heard what you and Gin discussed, about a wedding and then a celebration. It would take the stress off?"

"Most surely, it would," Thorin whispered. "This is becoming too elaborate of a gwiil than either of us would like."

"The wedding is in three months?"

"At the full moon, aye."

Thorin saw a ghost of a smile on his friend's face. "You let me talk to Dwalin, laddie. Maybe, we will come up with something."


The next few weeks were chaotic. There were clothes, fittings, new boots (Thorin hated new boots), jewelry. Thrór, despite falling deeper into his greed, was determined his grandson and eventual heir would not come off looking beggarly for the nuptials and he was equally determined his grandson's bride would be the most breathtaking dwarf-lass who ever married into the Line of Durin.

Well, next to Thrór's beloved Kveykva, that is.

And that meant impressing the guests. Especially the Elves. Especially Thranduil.

Most importantly, Thranduil.

Jewels for braids, for beards, Thorin demanding sapphires, rich, blue jewels for Gin, earrings, necklaces, rings. Their wedding bands, encrusted with diamonds and more sapphires...

Silks were imported from Dol Amroth; blue and silken thread to embroider Thorin's insignia, silver braiding and trim, merchants from Dale bringing precious oils and perfumes for Gin to sample.

Gin had a headache after the merchants left.

Sooooo many flowers...

Two weeks before the wedding, Thorin showed up at Gin's chambers late in the morning, a covered basket bouncing in his hands behind his back and dressed in his finest tunic and state robes. She was having the final fittings for most of her royal wardrobe and at the moment, her friends and mother had her clad in her favorite, a long blue tunic, trimmed with silver stars that she planned to wear for the wedding. "I have come," he was looking in the top of the cavern, "to take you on a picnic."

"On the hillside?"

"In the garden." He extended his arm. "Things have been hectic and are going to get worse." He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I have procured the day and evening for us." He winked. "Just us."

"I should change."

"You should not."

Two of Gin's attendants (and best friends) stood behind her, giggling. This caused Thorin's bride-to-be to glance at them sideways. "What are you two up to?"

"I've reached four foot seven, Gin," Heill replied, not quite straight faced. "I don't believe I'll grow much more. What do you think, Akkeri?"

Akkeri settled her right arm on her chest, cupping the left elbow with her right hand and her left hand cupping her chin, tapping her lip. "I don't know, girlfriend. You might have a late growth spurt. My sister did. She shot up an inch after she got married." She nodded to Thorin. "She's almost as tall as her husband now." Thorin knew this, but he wasn't about to tell the females Akkeri's brother-in-law joked about having to climb his own wife each night.

"You are up to something. I can smell it," Gin mumbled.

"Of course I am and of course we are!" Thorin grabbed Gin by the hand and tugged her towards the doorway. "But you will never find out what we are up to until you come with me." He pulled the door shut behind her, leaving her friends giggling in Gin's chambers. "You will like it. I promise."

Within minutes, the two were in the garden, soaking in the sunshine, eating fresh bread, lathered in honey butter and tender slivers of roast beef.

"Thorin, there are no eating utensils. How are we supposed to eat this?" Thorin's beloved quickly found a piece of meat, dangling in front of her face.

"Open up." Gin stared at the offered food.

"But-"

"Open. Up."

"But-"

"Gin, please just do it." Thorin waggled the meat, juices threatening to drip or fly, depending on how haphazardly the dwarf decided to shake.

Realizing that if she didn't eat from her intended's hand, she would more likely be wearing the grease so she opened up, watching as he set the food on her tongue. Sucking the juices from his fingers, she smiled saucily. "My turn," she whispered. Grasping a piece of the roast, she likewise returned the favor, trembling when his teeth latched gently about her fingers. Thus, they ate.

After the meal was finished, amid much giggling, Thorin began to rummage through the basket. "How stupid am I?" he wondered aloud, holding up a single sapphire-encrusted goblet, one that looked suspiciously like the one created for their nuptials. "I could have sworn I packed the mate to this. I suppose, " he sighed theatrically, "we will have to share. Here, hold it, while I pour." He passed the goblet to Gin. After filling the chalice, he held it while she drank, and in turn, she held it for him.

"Thorin, will we find a sword and broom nearby?"

"Most likely," he retorted jovially. Quickly, he turned serious. "Does this bother you?"

Gin's smile was generous and gentle. "It would be perfect, save we are missing our family and friends, Thorin."

Thorin leaned back, back, back so he was looking at the hillside above them. "No, we are not."

Gin turned to see her family, Thorin's family and their friends standing on the ledge above the garden. Thrór was in his finest armor and robes.

"C'mon wit' ye!" Dwalin roared. "Are y'gonna kiss 'er, ar no?"

"They have to jump the broom and sword first, Dwalin. As well as the king must say the sacred words and bless them." Balin was grinning from ear to ear.

"Do not deny me saying the sacred words, Dwalin, son of Fundin." Thrór's voice was a rumble.

Gin was staring at Thorin in wonder. "Thorin, I-"

"Our friends and family are here," Thorin whispered. "You are beautiful and I love you. I have arranged a room down in the nicest inn in Esgaroth for three days." He smiled brightly. "It has a private hot spring and indoor garden!" With large hands, he cupped her face, thumbing a tear away. "A wedding for us. The way we want it. And a celebration for the rest in two weeks." He nodded his head, "We do not have to tell the guests." He inhaled. "What do you say?"

Gin placed both hands over his. "I say, you and I go up and join our family and get married." She turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand. "Thank you for thinking of this."

With that, Thorin tucked her hand in his elbow and headed towards the small gathering. "No, thank my father. Apparently, he and my mother did the same thing!"

And with that, he led her up the path, jumping a sword and a broom, which just happened to be lying in the path along the way.

And Thorin married his Gin.

tbc



Heill - Luck
Akkeri - anchor
Gwiil - festival
Eyða - lay waste