There were few people that Thorin Oakenshield trusted. He trusted his kin, but that was it. After losing the Lonely Mountain, the dwarves of Erebor were looked down upon by many races of Middle Earth and elves had a special place of distrust in Thor...
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"Cousin, stop your fidgeting. Ya look fine," Dain said with a laugh.
"He's right, lad. You're worrying about nothing," said Balin.
Thorin huffed, straightening his tunic's sleeve for probably the third time.
How could he not worry? He wanted this day to be perfect. It was his wedding day after all.
Finally.
After almost two years of courtship, they were going to be saying their vows and proclaiming their love to one another in front of the kingdom.
Thorin smiled at the thought. He couldn't wait to see Oreliell. His sister had whisked her away seven days ago, and he hadn't seen her since, as it was tradition among dwarves to not see the bride for the week leading up to the wedding.
When it came to planning the wedding, the pair had decided to combine dwarven and elven traditions. They hadn't truly followed any traditions during their betrothal so they wanted to make up for it. They wanted to honor their own customs, yet also show their union as two people of two races coming together as one.
Thorin looked up when the door opened. Dwalin smiled as he came in.
"Dís said they're ready," he said. "Everyone is set."
Thorin nodded. He shrugged on his coat then reached for the elegant cloak. Oreliell had given it to him days ago. It was of elven design, made of fine silk that shone every time it moved. It was a deep blue, matching the Durin royal colors. The cloak hung over his right shoulder and was strapped around his chest, held in place by a pin with the Durin crest. Thorin smiled at his appearance.
"Let's be off then," he said.
He followed his friends out the door. The chamber they had been preparing in was close to the main hall where the dwarves of Erebor had gathered, so as they walked, they could hear the steady chattering of the guests.
When Thorin entered the hall, many people called their greetings. Thorin smiled at them before taking his place at the front of the room where an altar had been placed. He nodded to Lord Rusnig, who would be officiating part of the ceremony. Next to him stood an elven minister, provided by Thranduil, who would officiate the other part. Thorin and Oreliell had made the decision to combine their cultural traditions. They wanted to symbolize the joining of not only two people, but of two races coming together.
Looking into the audience, Thorin spotted Thranduil, seated with a group of other elves and several humans, including Bard. Thorin caught Thranduil's attention and gave him a nod of appreciation. A hint of a smile appeared on the elven king's face - though he would most likely deny it - and he nodded back.
"Uncle."
Thorin turned and smiled at the sight of his nephew. Kili was dressed in elegant clothes, fit for a prince, but had an air of youthfulness about him. Thorin couldn't remember when he had last seen Kili so happy.
