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the captain of the guard was enjoying himself, truly. it isn’t every day that thorin is actually happy, that his cousin is able to swing his arms around the shoulders of his nephews with joy oozing from every pore.
peace is seldom found in the line of durin.
his eyes flit around the room, observing every shift of the light and tracking the positions of his family and friends. the boys are hanging off thorin with rosy cheeks, smiling wider than he’d seen in years. bofur is dancing on one of the massive tables, flute in hand, deftly avoiding plates and goblets while doing a jig to his own music. nori’s pulled ori into dancing along, the brothers almost tripping over each other in their laughter. balin and dori are watching said merriment from their seats at the royal table, casually drinking from their goblets with matching grins.
dwalin respects the duties of his station and would never stray from his responsibilities during a royal banquet or otherwise. it doesn’t matter how entranced he is with the way you’re going toe to toe against the others with the mead, the way errant drops of the beverage drip down your chin and neck. he’s not going to abandon his post and allow himself to sweep you to your feet, beckoning you into the energetic dances of celebrating dwarrow.
but he can damn sure wish to.
he doesn’t know how it started. all dwalin knows is that it happened, is still happening, and probably won’t stop happening anytime soon. he fell beard over boots for you many moons ago, the dam sent by dís to accompany them on the quest, your presence the only reason his dear cousin let her sons join the company.
it could have been the battle cry released from the pit of your soul when you downed a warg headed straight for him. or maybe it was the vicious glint in your eyes when you ripped the leg off a mirkwood spider with your bare hands, then promptly used it to skewer two others. it could even be the doting care you gave to every member of the company, your innate kindness off the battlefield a delightful contradiction to your ferocity on it.
those and many more were the reasons he, with some encouragement from his closest friends and family, found the courage to ask to court you while they were in laketown. it was why his eyes kept focusing on the courting bead in your hair that marked you as his , no matter how many other eyes followed you around the mountain.
mahal’s sweaty balls, dwalin was in deep .
even in the safety of the mountain, there were so many strangers that he couldn’t let his guard down. that was his excuse for not celebrating and he would stick to it like the honey in your beard when you ate the little honey cakes at the shifter’s cabin.
he spotted bofur taking your hand, pulling you onto the table to join him in whatever foolish drinking song that was being chorused around the table.
“ho, ro, the rattlin' bog
the bog down in the valley o
real bog, the rattlin' bog
the bog down in the valley o!”
an obnoxious cheer cut through yours and bofur’s song before you continued with wide smiles and mead dripping from your beards.
“in the nest, there was a bird
a rare bird, a rattlin’ bird
the bird in the nest
and the nest on the limb
and the limb on the branch
and the branch on the tree
and the tree in the hole
and the hole in the bog
and the bog down in the valley o!”
it was an absolutely foolish song, albeit rather catchy. while he would never lower himself to singing along, he caught himself tapping his boot to it. the faster you sang, the more every other dwarf struggled to keep up. even bofur was occasionally lowered to simply making syllabic noises that didn’t quite make sense, though his current inebriation could be partly to blame.
you jumped off the table in a hurry, headed straight for him. if he were a betting dwarf that needed the gold, he would bet that you were going to try and pull him into your cheerful little song and dance.
“come on, ya big oaf! you’ve got to join us!”
“oh no no, dearie, you know i don’t-”
“correction, you didn’t dance! now you do!”
dwalin’s long-suffering sigh meant nothing to you. you’ve known dwalin nearly your entire lives, there wasn’t a moment spent under this mountain or another where he could successfully said no to you.
your strength in pulling him into the growing crowd, no matter how close to inebriated you were, shouldn’t have surprised him. his feet weren’t cooperating with the rest of him as he stumbled after you, the way he’s done since you were both wee pebbles.
he’s just glad he wasn’t asked to join you and the miner in the singing.
once you succeeded in pulling dwalin to the edge of your impromptu stage, you jumped right back into the song with ease. your drunken crowd was stomping their feet and banging meaty fists on the table. one of dain’s men had a banjo and was playing along with the steadily increasing tempo of the song. the increase in speed seemed to not affect you in the slightest and dwalin was gobsmacked.
“the rash on the tick, on the tick on the louse,
on the louse on the hair, on the hair on the worm,
on the worm on the feather, on the feather on the bird,
on the bird in the egg, in the egg in the bird,
in the bird on the nest, on the nest on the limb,
on the limb on the branch, on the branch on the tree,
on the tree in the hole, in the hole in the bog,
in the bog down in the valley-o!”
you launched yourself off the table, still shouting the lyrics with a speed that rivaled the rabbits pulling the brown wizard’s sled. dwalin caught you with a wide grin. he almost didn’t catch you when you jumped into his arms, but his instincts were ahead of his brain.
with that one last line, ringed fingers tangled in the warrior’s beard, pulling him close so you could connect his lips with yours. it was a sloppy, rough kiss with just a little tenderness but overflowing with passion and impatience and devotion. hoots and hollers rang around you both, the loudest ones belonging to members of the company.
it was a very forward display of affection for two dwarrow who only recently started courting, but propriety could get shoved up the drake’s ass for all he (and you) cared.
he tempered your kisses, untangling your fingers from his beard before placating you with smaller pecks all across your face. “alright lass, it’s time for you to get to bed.” there was an affection in his voice that he couldn’t keep at bay when he was around you.
“rather forward tonight, are we?” you couldn’t help but tease your dear warrior. the sight of his cheeks wearing even the most faded tint of ruby was a reward that far surpassed the value of the treasure only a few rooms away.
dwalin rolled his eyes fondly at you. “not quite, kurdel,” maybe one day though. he wouldn’t even entertain the idea of doing anything untoward when you were giggly and rosy-cheeked from the spirits. “need to get you to sleep. ‘sides, it sounds like your voice is gettin’ hoarse.”
the resulting pout you gave him was very unconvincing.
a hiccup escaped your lips as your betrothed hoisted you into his shoulder, carrying you out of the grand hall like a very cherished sack of potatoes.
in the morning you were definitely going to regret the way you drank close to bombur’s weight in mead. it wasn’t a concern now, however, when drunk you had the best vantage point of your lover’s ass.
you could continue your singing after all, especially with the best hand drums this side of the misty mountains right there . deft hands began to tap an encore of your earlier performance. you were so distracted by this task you didn’t notice dwalin stop walking or his slight chuckle at your antics.
dwalin paused outside the door to your rooms, an impatient sigh falling from him. “are you quite finished, love?” just to spite him, you hum and give his buttocks a few more taps just because you could. “i’m done now,” you answer.
his grunt of acknowledgement made you giggle as he opened the door to your rooms, your intended making a beeline for your bed. he unloaded you with all the care a lover would give and once you were sobered up, you’d look upon the moment fondly. he was gingerly guiding your body as he removed your outerwear, leaving you in your pants and a loose tunic.
but that moment was not now, so you instead chose to grab up at him in a silent attempt to get him to lay with you. he should learn to say no to you eventually.
“if i lay down wi’ ye, there will be
no
funny business. understand?” he’s already ridding himself of his own boots and heavy armor, getting himself ready to crawl into bed with you. balin would definitely have his ass for this in the morning, but dwalin couldn’t find it in him to care when you were gazing at him with love in your eyes.