The bride wore an elaborate gown of rich blue brocade. She looked ethereal and blissfully happy and so she should, people thought, as she would one day be Queen under the Mountain. Dis walked at her side, holding her hand, and when they reached the dais, she placed Daila's trembling hand in Fili's and spoke her blessing.

And Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, stepped up and began the ceremony.

The wedding feast ran late into the night.

Kili elbowed his brother in the ribs and leaned towards him. "You really need to get out of here," he whispered. "It's long past midnight, and your bride looks exhausted."

"It is not too soon?" Fili whispered back. "What would people think?"

Kili burst into laughter. "It is a good thing then that you missed our wedding. Tauriel and I were gone before the last course arrived."

Fili looked at his brother, an expression of mild horror in his eye. "Before the last course?" he mouthed. "How are you not disinherited?" He glanced at Daila who was indeed pale with fatigue and then pulled Kili closer. "You've convinced me," he told his brother. "Cover for us, will you?"

"Consider it done!"

...

Thorin extracted himself from between Dain and Dis at the table and scanned the hall. He'd seen Mistress Aire dancing earlier, with Bofur, and then with Dwalin, and again with Bofur, and after with what looked like one of Dain's guardsmen.

Thorin stopped himself and almost growled. Inventorying her dancing partners was beneath him. He needed to speak to her about business.

"If it's Mistress Aire you're after," Kili tittered in his ear, "I saw her slip out the door not a minute ago."

Thorin glared at him.

"Has your brother gone yet?"

"Yes, finally! I thought they'd never get out of here. As if they were planning to stay 'till morning!"

"As is appropriate for a dwarvish wedding," Thorin said pointedly.

Kili shrugged and grinned, and took off to find his lady wife and drag her laughing to the dance floor.

Thorin turned on his heel and stalked out the door. He walked further out towards the heart of the Mountain and looked out over the bridges that spanned the wide empty space. There was no sign of Mistress Aire. He wondered if it would be too late to drop by her workshop. It was business, after all.

He turned and then he saw her. She was leaning against one of the newly constructed railings, staring at the glow of the furnaces below.

"Inspecting for structural integrity?" he asked when her head turned and she saw him.

She looked bewildered for just one moment before she pulled back and taking a hold of the railing with one hand, pretended to give it a thorough shake.

"I don't know," she said with mock thoughtfulness, "it seems a little loose. Perhaps you should have it inspected. You don't know if a thing's done well, unless you do it yourself!"

He almost growled.

"Taking a break from all the dancing?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"As far as you know, I may not have danced at all this evening."

"Hardly," he muttered.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you with?"

"A shirt!" he declared.

"What?"

"I need a shirt. Perhaps two."

"This is your business with me, at three in the morning, on the night of your nephew's wedding? You need shirts."

"Yes."

Her eyes were the size of saucers. She wet her lips, and he thought it was the most bewitching sight he had seen since the Arkenstone.

"I will send one of my apprentices to you in the morning," she finally declared.

"What! Whatever for?"

"For measurements."

"I don't want your dratted apprentice!"

"It's called delegating. I can't possibly do everything myself."

She was laughing at him and it should have made him very angry. But for the life of him he couldn't stop staring at her lips.

"I don't want to be measured by some apprentice." He took a step closer to her. "What does it consist of anyway?"

"The circumference of your waist and chest," she began, "as well as ..."

"Well, can't you do that yourself?" he asked, his voice suddenly very soft.

When had he come to stand so close, Aire wondered? She felt the railing come up behind her. There was nowhere to retreat to. Those stormy blue eyes stared into hers. A grey shirt with would bring those eyes out very nicely.

Without her consent, her gaze fell to his chest. Perhaps she would take his measurements herself! Her cheeks flushed and her eyes jumped back to his.

"Something like this?" he asked. She had no idea what he was talking about. Then his hands were on her waist, spanning it from front to back, pulling her closer. She didn't think there was any more space left between them.

"Except with measuring tape," she corrected.

His mouth curved and his eyes turned tender. "Are you finding fault with my technique?"

"If measurements are your purpose, your technique is deplorable." She bit her lip but couldn't suppress a laugh. He smiled back at her, his eyes roaming over her laughing face.

"No," he whispered, suddenly serious once more. "No, I have a very different purpose in mind."

...

Kili and Tauriel walked out of the banquet hall, their hands clasped together. Tauriel was still laughing over the hog-dance that Dain Ironfoot had just finished demonstrating with Dwalin. Being both more than a little inebriated, they had required some occasional propping up from their audience.

"That was spectacular," Kili laughed. "There should be songs written about it! It's too bad Fili wasn't around for it. Or maybe it's a good thing. He might have cracked a rib laughing."

"How am I going to look Dwalin in the eye in the morning?" Tauriel bemoaned.

"Simple! Good morning, Captain! I was much impressed by your footwork last night."

Tauriel laughed. "He'll take me off Dale patrol and have me assigned to the mines. I won't see daylight in months."

"Perhaps you could get him to teach it to you?"

"I did not think it was possible to move quite like that."

"I thought elves were lithe," Kili said with a wink. "What, Thranduil couldn't do the hog dance?"

Tauriel's eyes widened with horror. Kili waggled his eyebrows at her, and she finally burst into guilty laughter. "Is nothing sacred to you?"

"The hog dance, certainly!"

He pulled her close and kissed her smiling lips.

"This," he spoke against her lips, suddenly serious. "This is sacred to me." He rested his forehead on hers and heard her contented sigh. "Let's go home!" She nodded.

They came to a turn and Tauriel suddenly stopped.

"Shh," she cautioned, pulling Kili back. "See there! A pair of lovers kissing on the bridge. Let us not disturb them."

But Kili was staring with his mouth hanging open.

"By Mahal, isn't that my uncle?"

"And Mistress Aire!"

"I didn't know uncle could do that!"

Tauriel covered her mouth to muffle her giggles. "This night has revealed many of your kin's hidden talents."

"Fili's going to kick himself for missing this!"

"Shh," she whispered urgently. "Not so loud. Let us go around. I do not want your uncle yelling at us tonight."

AN: And we've come to the end! I think Thorin can handle things from now on, don't you? He seems to be on the right track. And if he gets into trouble again, I'm sure Aire will point him in the right direction.

As for Kili and Tauriel, I imagine they both fight in the Northern Theatre of the War of the Ring almost eighty years later, alongside the Dwarves of Erebor and Iron Hills, the Men of Dale, and the Elves of Mirkwood. And I read this in someone else's story and loved the idea (can't remember whose, but all the credit goes to them) – that they sail together to the Undying Lands with Legolas and Gimli after the death of Aragorn, and so are never parted.

Thank you everyone for your awesome reviews and comments. Loved every one of them! I did the hog dance every time a review, favourite or follow came in! (What is the hog dance, you ask? You'll just have to ask Dwalin to show you.)