Requested by fluffyfoxella
You hated these parties, but you had to admit that from a political point of view, the idea of them seemed brilliant. The White Council held them a couple times a century, inviting rulers and nobles of all races from all lands. It was an opportunity for the important people of the world to meet and form relationships that weren't just for show. But people of races other than elves rarely attended. But your family had made an effort to come when you received the once-in-a-lifetime invitation.
You were Princess (y/n), eldest daughter of King Bard of New Dale.
Currently, you were sulking on the walls of the ballroom, trying to remind yourself not to get too drunk as you sipped unbelievably strong elvish wine, watching Bain try to win over and elf maid and Sigrid dance with a handsome ellon that had her swooning. Why weren't you dancing, you ask? Well, you had tried shortly after the night began, but became lost in the towering forest of graceful elves.
You were too short for your liking at the moment; the smallest of your siblings. When you met new people, they always thought you were the youngest when really, you were the firstborn and heir to the throne. Your father said you got your height from your mother, and that made you feel a bit better about yourself, but not right now.
Right now, you wished you could at least reach an elf's shoulder and not be eye-level with his stomach when you danced, or not get tripped on when he spun you over to your next partner. The humiliation just wasn't worth a dance.
You were wallowing in self-pity when you heard a rich voice at your left. "Excuse me, my lady?"
You jumped a bit and turned to face the person. He was a dwarf dressed in royal blue robes and a fur coat. He was tall by dwarf standards, and you, being extremely short by human standards, were only about a head or so shorter than him. It was nice not having to angle your neck to make eye contact with him.
"Yes, my lord?" you said, trying to put on a smile equally stunning as those icy blue eyes of his.
"You caught my eye standing over here alone," he said, and looked into the flurry of spinning elves. "Not one for dancing, I take it?"
"No, I am," you retorted. "I just can't dance at the moment. I'm too..." You blushed furiously, sweaty fingers fiddling around the stem of your wine glass. "Vertically challenged."
The dwarf lord chortled. You didn't appreciate that. He noticed your discomfort and quieted down.
"Believe me, my lady," he assured you, "I understand completely. You don't see any of my kind dancing out there, do you?"
Indeed, there were no dwarves out on the dance floor. A few humans from your council, but no dwarves. In fact, there seemed to be no dwarves here at all.
"No."
"I only came here to keep our already strained alliance with the elves secure. To be truthful," he leaned down to whisper into your ear, "they aren't my kind of party people at all."
You put a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. How daring he was to say that! You couldn't blame him, though. You eyed the dance taking place in front of you and realized that it was very slow and monotonous, contrasting from what you'd heard the dwarves preferred.
"Would you like to come with me to the gardens?" he offered. "My family moved their merrymaking to there. You're welcome to join us. Maybe then I can ask you to join me in a more... vertically-equivalent dance?"
You gave him a haughty smile. "I don't even know your name, master dwarf."
He was too bold, you thought, trying to ever-so-smoothly ask the future queen of New Dale to dance with him. Not to say you didn't like it, though. You found his confidence amusing.
His lower jaw dropped a little, but he didn't falter.
"Nor I yours, mistress human," he countered with equal haughtiness.
You gasped and pressed your fingertips to your chest, as if insulted.
"I suppose two can play at that game," you laughed and squared your shoulders into a royal posture. "Princess (y/n) of New Dale."
His eyes widened. He knew your name. He bowed down, took your hand in his own, and kissed it. Heat bloomed in your cheeks and spark flew up your arm as his lips gently pressed on your skin. You had done this thousands of times before, but you had never felt that when receiving a kiss on the hand from anyone in the past.
When he rose, his twinkling eyes met your own. "King Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor. At your service, Your Highness."
That was like a slap from his royal hand to your face. And you had thought you were of high status! Clearly, you had underestimated this determined dwarf.
You quickly composed yourself. "And I at yours, Your Majesty."
"Shall we?" he asked with a smirk and offered you his arm.
"We shall," you said, took his arm, and let him guide you out of the ballroom.
The moon was high in the sky as you were twirled under Thorin's arm. You laughed with delight as he pulled you back into his embrace. The jig was lively and fast, but simple and easy to keep with, unlike the proper, complex dances of the elves. You were so close to Thorin as he rocked you to the music that you could smell the freshly brewed ale the two of you had recently shared on his breath.
You laughter faded and you lost yourself in his eyes. He was something different than all the other nobles you had met. He was serious, yet still able to have fun. He was giving you the night of your life right now as well. He noticed you staring and held your gaze, your heart beating faster with each passing second.
It didn't last long, though, because then the dance came to its finale, and you squealed with surprise when you were boosted up by your hips and spun in the air before being set down on your feet once more. You had to grip Thorin's arms to steady yourself, both of you laughing a bit drunkenly as you came down from the thrilling high.
"Are you alright?" your partner chuckled.
"Yes!" you said, gasping for air. "That was the best dance I've ever had... I just forgot about that last part."
"Well, take a deep breath. You're looking a bit red in the face."
You could believe that. Your heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it was hitting your rib cage. The beer, the dance, and the devilishly handsome dwarf king were all just too much for you to handle in one night.
You caught your breath, and the dizziness faded away.
"Better?" Thorin asked.
You lifted your head to meet his eyes that you were beginning to admire so much. "Better."
The quartet, seeing their king smiling at a beautiful lady, set the stage by shifting the song to something slower and more romantic. You blushed and your heart started racing again. You bit your lip and looked at your feet. Thorin almost asked what was wrong, but then he noticed the change of music and gulped. He quickly thought of what to say and tried his best to make proper eye contact with you.
"I know I have only known you for the past couple of hours, my lady, and I promised you only one dance, but would you be interested in joining me in another?"
You took in a sharp breath at his question. You hadn't expected him to ask you to slow dance. Maybe to get you another drink or walk you to your room, but not to dance. You usually tried to avoid such an intimate activity with men of high status you just met, because you knew they were either after your body or your crown or both. But you sensed that Thorin wasn't like that. And you wanted to say yes. So you did.
"I'd love to."
Thorin smiled and held out his hand. You placed your smaller one inside it and he pulled you close, his other hand slipping around your waist. Your other hand went up to his shoulder, and you were pleasantly surprised with the solid muscles you found there. Your face flushed madly when your front grazed against his and you swayed gently to the melody, taking little steps that brought you nowhere but closer to him.
"Your Highness?" he started, breaking you out of your thoughts.
"Yes?"
"I realized I'm yet to tell you how beauteous you are tonight," he said tenderly.
"Oh," you said and lowered your head to hide your blush. "I wasn't expecting you to, Your Majesty, but thank you."
"A woman like you should be reminded of her beauty every day of her life," he said with surprising sincerity. "If you have a man who isn't doing that, you deserve far better."
You didn't know what to say in reply to that. That was the biggest, most meaningful compliment you had ever received.
There was a silence between you two before you returned the compliment. "You look..." you resisted the urge to look his toned body up and down, "handsome as well. I hope that your lady knows how lucky she is."
"I don't have a lady I call my own," he said. This came as a shock to you. It made your heart soar.
"Neither have I a man," you said, and you swore you saw something like hope gleam over Thorin's eyes.
Soon, the last dance was over, and the light of the stars was starting to fade as the sun turned the sky violet. Thorin offered to walk you back to your chambers. You accepted, and he left you for a moment to fetch his cloak.
During the few minutes you waited for him, a golden haired dwarf younger than Thorin but definitely resembling him approached you.
"I haven't seen my uncle that happy since before we first lost Erebor," he said.
"What?" you said, dumbstruck.
"You brought out the best in him tonight, my lady," Thorin's nephew said. "I want to thank you for making him happy."
"There is no need for that," you insisted. "He made me tremendously happy as well. I must say that the way you dwarves party is much more memorable than the elves. I'll never forget this night."
He breathed a laugh. "Well, you're invited to come to Erebor and party anytime."
"I might just take you up on that," you said with a smile.
"Nothing would bring my Uncle Thorin more joy," he said. "Good night- er, I suppose I mean good morning, my lady."
"Good morning," you chuckled, and he went on his way.
A few seconds later, Thorin returned with a second cloak that he draped over your shoulders.
"Oh, thank you," you said and buttoned it around your neck.
"I figured you might be a bit chilly."
The two of you walked along the paths of Lothlorien side by side in comfortable silence. There was nothing to be heard but the swishing of the leaves above in the early morning breeze.
A few minutes away from your chambers, you felt the warm and calloused skin of his hand brush against yours. You gasped slightly and nearly tripped over your own feet.
He waited in suspenseful silence for you to pull away or even slap him, and he internally scolded himself for being so forward so soon. But he knew it was too late to take the move back.
To his relief, your fingers laced with his and you carried on walking.
"This is it," you said and turned to face him once you reached the tree house your family was staying in. "I had the most incredible time tonight. Thank you for it all, Your Majesty."
He placed the hand that wasn't already holding yours on the top of your palm and said, "Please, just call me Thorin." He then asked anxiously, "When- when do you leave Lothlorien?"
"My father plans to depart two sunrises from now. What about you?"
"Whenever my council recovers from their hangovers, which likely won't be too long" he said with a melancholy chuckle. "I'll have to invite the royal family of New Dale up to Erebor so I may have another vertically-equivalent dance with Her Highness."
"Her Highness would rather be called (y/n) by those close to her."
Thorin smiled gently, his thumbs caressing your hands. "Her wish is my command," he said so quietly it was but a whisper.
His eyes lowered slightly to your lips. You took it as a sign he was thinking exactly what you were thinking, stood on the tips of your toes, and pressed your lips onto his. His beard tickled your chin, and his arms moved-- one to cup your face and the other to hold you by the hip. You held him by the neck to keep your knees from giving way beneath you. The sensation was warm and bubbly yet smooth, like a warm stream running through your body during the cool early morning.
You didn't regret kissing the dwarf you had just met that night. This was what felt right in your heart. If you didn't kiss him before you saw him again months later, that's what you would've regretted.
The kiss was short and not very deep, ending with the gentle brushing of lips, but it was only your first with him, after all. You prayed there would be more to come.
"Until next time, Thorin," you said softly once you parted and turned for the door. You cast one last look at his face, which had a dreamy smile plastered on it, and gave him a little wave before quietly closing the door.
You pressed your body against the door and sighed. What a night!
You should have checked to make sure you were alone, though, because right in front of you, arms crossed and lips in a frown, stood your fuming father, Bard.
ATTENTION ALL THORIN LOVERS! A good friend of mine, soccer_queen4 ,who I collaborated with when I wrote the Lost Lady of Erebor is currently writing her own twist on the story. So if you enjoyed that, you'll definitely like her version of it. I've read what is already published and it is great! Go give her some support and read Our Lost Lady of Durin! :D