The fire crackles low, throwing long shadows across the clearing. We had fought hard today — harder than expected — and Gandalf allowed us all an extra measure of the dwarven spirits Balin carried in his pack.
It was… too much. Or perhaps I was not careful enough.
The warmth hits me behind the ribs first, loosening the places I keep locked. I sit with my boots stretched toward the fire, cloak open, shoulders heavy but easier than usual.
Fíli and Kíli are bickering about something trivial — whose turn it is to keep watch. Bofur hums a tune. Ori scribbles his notes. Even Dwalin seems almost relaxed.
And then the thought slips out of me like a stone rolling loose from a cliff.
“I cannot wait to see my wife.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Then—
Fíli: “Your… what?”
Kíli: “UNCLE?! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”
I blink. The fire blurs for a moment, then steadies. The Company stares at me as though I have grown a second head.
Dwalin sits up straighter, squinting at me. Balin’s eyebrows rise so high they nearly leave his head. Bofur’s hat tilts forward as he leans in. Oin cups his ear trumpet like it will help. Gloin mutters, “No… he didn’t—did he?”
Bilbo squeaks, “You’re married?!”
I exhale slowly. The drink has loosened my tongue and tightened my chest all at once.
“...Aye,” I admit.
Chaos.
Fíli nearly falls backward into the fire. Kíli grabs my shoulders, shaking me gently like a man who thinks I have kept a treasure from him. Bofur lets out a low whistle. Ori drops his quill. Nori grins like he’s heard the greatest secret in Middle-earth.
Dwalin just stares. Long. Hard. “Thorin,” he rumbles, “is this the drink? Or is this truth?”
“It is truth,” I say. “All of it.”
Gandalf lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Ah. Finally,” he mutters. “I was wondering when you would stop pretending your heart was your own.”
Bilbo chokes. “You KNEW?!”
“I suspect many things,” Gandalf replies coolly. “Most of them turn out to be correct.”
Fíli sits directly in front of me, eyes wide. “Uncle,” he says slowly, “you are married. And none of us knew.”
Kíli adds, “To who? Who is she? Is she alive? Does she know about us? Does she know about this quest? DOES SHE KNOW YOU’RE DRINKING YOURSELF SIDEWAYS IN THE WILDERNESS—”
“She knows,” I snap, though without heat. “She knows everything.”
They all lean in.
I take a breath that hurts more than I expect.
“My wife is Eärwa-Fäe Singollo” I say “High Queen of the Teleri. Sovereign of Taur Im Duinath”
Every dwarf inhales sharply.
Ori drops his quill again. Gloin whispers, “The Teleri?!” Dori looks like he might faint. Balin’s eyes soften with recognition the only one here who truly understands.
Kíli’s voice rises an octave. “You married an Elf Queen?!”
Fíli elbows him but cannot hide the shock in his own voice. “Uncle… why in Mahal’s name did you hide this from us?”
I look at the fire.
“Because I feared you would not understand,” I admit. “Because I feared what my people would say. Because I feared for her safety. Because love between our kind is… complicated.”
Balin murmurs, “You feared we would judge you.”
“Yes,” I answer quietly. “And I feared you would judge her.”
There is a long, heavy silence.
Then Dwalin grunts. “Thorin. We are your kin. If she is your wife, then she is ours.”
Fíli nods fiercely. “If you love her, we stand with her.”
Kíli practically glows. “She’s my aunt. I want to meet her right now. Why didn’t you TELL us?!”
Bofur laughs. “An Elven Queen married to the King Under the Mountain? We’re gonna make history without even tryin’.”
Bilbo smiles softly. “I think it’s rather beautiful, actually.”
Gandalf taps his pipe. “You have hidden from your fate long enough, Thorin. Perhaps it is time the Mountain stops pretending it is not touched by the River.”
A breath escapes me — slow, unsteady.
And for the first time in years, I do not feel ashamed of the truth.
Fíli finally speaks again, quieter this time.
“Uncle… when do we meet her?”
I look at Gandalf “Do you have any way,” I ask, “to reach her.. to reach… my wife?"
“Yes,” he says simply...then he disappears.