Hello there! :) Housekeeping and such to follow:

Well, if you've come here from Follow On, welcome! I'm glad you're still around and don't want to leave, just like me. For those of you who are Poppy world noobs, welcome! (I use that term lovingly, I promise. It's an endearment in my family.) This will be a collection of one-shots in the universe of a behemoth of a story I've written in the Hobbit fandom, so if you'd like you should go check that out before continuing *spoilers ahem*. It's rather good I'm told, despite the intimidating length. It'll make for a lovely long weekend. Otherwise, if you're cool with jumping in with an OC, by all means continue on...

Okay, disclaimer time: I am not JRR Tolkien, woe unto me. I own nothing from his universe of Arda whatsoever and am making no claims that I do, nor am I making any money from this entirely enjoyment-driven piece.

And finally, the way I envision this working is mainly by requests. I'm going to shoot for putting up something new once a week or so. I'm making a foray into original works which is terrifying, so this can be a nice break for me. :) If you shoot me the idea, I'll dedicate it to you and everything. So, without further ado, here we go.

First Snow is for Fantasylover101, who wanted something long (4775 words!), to know what everyone was up to, and some happy things. I hope this will do! :)

S.R. 1342, December

"Tell him to go away. It's too early."

Smiling, Poppy merely pulled harder on the blanket Fili was valiantly trying to remain hidden beneath. All things considered, she couldn't blame him. The stone floor was terribly cold beneath her bare feet. Her husband a dwarf who never realized it was cold and more than warm enough to keep her comfortable, she never managed to wake up in the night to stoke the fire. It was always nearly spent when she woke to the shafts of sunlight coming through the frosty skylight above them.

It had yet to properly snow more than just a dusting that melted by noon, but the coldest bits of winter were surely on their way. If the last month or so—which had been her first of married life—was any indication, she had nothing but long, warm, all around lovely nights to look forward to. She'd gladly deal with cold mornings in exchange.

Wrapped up in the wonderfully soft, warm, burgundy robe that Balin had given her as a wedding present, she'd done her best to coax the embers back to life. They'd taken but only barely. That was around the time Kili had begun pounding loudly on their front door. Though she had nothing against staying in bed a while longer, she knew that they needed to start the day.

Smirk on her face, she'd started trying to rouse Fili from where he was hiding beneath their many covers.

He had a terrible lot of princely things to accomplish. Dáin and a group of dwarves from the Iron Hills were set to arrive that day in preparation for Yule, not to mention Tauriel was arriving back from Mirkwood—which, aside from his natural orneriness, explained Kili's excitement.

Tugging on the blanket again, she laughed at the sad keen of defeat that left him when his bare skin met the air, "Come along, the faster you get out of bed, the faster it's time to sleep again."

"Or we could just stay in bed. My shoulder hurts which means yours does, too. We can be invalids for a day."

Groaning pitifully a final time at her silence, he rolled onto his back and looked toward her at the end of the bed. Smirking from where she was perched beside his feet, she held his heated gaze until he whispered, "Hi."

Knowing the look he was giving her and having to momentarily fight against its power, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly. Turning about and presenting her large mass of hair, she replied cheerily, "Hi."

Fili sighed, "We're not going back to bed, are we?"

"Nope. We have work to do."

Muttering good-naturedly under his breath, her blonde dwarf sat up with a stretch. Seemingly ignoring the cold, he forewent grabbing a shirt and settled to her favorite part of their mornings. Just as he had promised her upon her return to Erebor earlier that fall, he dutifully braided her hair every day.

Because, also as he had promised, he took great pride in taking them out the nights before.

There was something incredibly soothing about having another brush and braid her hair, although that was only part of why she was so fond of the time. It had become something of an equivalent to their nights sitting watch. For a wonderful length of time every day, they could just sit near to one another with no one else about and nothing else they were required to do.

Beginning to run his fingers through her unruly curls, he asked as he usually did, "Which of your many jobs are you doing today?"

Though prince came with a fairly straightforward if numerous set of responsibilities that had Fili at Thorin's side most days, they had all found that princess was much less restricted. Even if it hadn't been, Ori often joked, it wouldn't have mattered. She would've done what she thought important anyway.

"Toymaker. Bifur and I have been almost cleaned out. With Yule so close, we have to replenish our stores. I promised Tilda I'd ride out and we'd make sure the bees were warm enough. Bard's convinced it will snow within the next few days. With Dáin coming, Miri asked for an extra hand in the kitchens since I've fed them before. I think Ori had something he wanted to do in the library, too. And a few others things."

She'd said 'a few other things' enough in the past for both of them to know that she would drag herself to their family dinner with Thorin, Kili, and Dís late and likely fall asleep before dessert because of how very full her day had been.

Whatever complaints some of the more traditional, annoyingly outspoken Dwarves under the Mountain might have about their new princess, not a one had ever called her lazy. She presumed that much of that was from the heavy glares sent their way by Thorin, but part of her imagined it was simply because it was untruthful.

Sitting idle still did not agree with her.

They spoke of Fili's morning as he finished his task and they both ignored how Kili's knocking had started up again. Dressing quickly and pulling on the dark wool legwarmers that the always motherly Dori had given her once the temperature began to drop beneath her blue dress, she pressed a final kiss to her dwarf's lips.

Smiling at the way her eyes still slowly fluttered open, he squeezed her waist and said quietly, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Standing up on her toes, she kissed him quickly again before grabbing her coat and a biscuit on her way to the door. Stopping abruptly, her many-stranded braid swaying ahead of her, she turned back, "Oh, could you please ask Dwalin…"

"I'll ask, but we both know what he'll say." He watched with a growing grin as her blue eyes rolled and she muttered some unhappy things under her breath. And there was the independent, occasionally growly hobbit he loved. With a scowl, she grabbed a second biscuit. "Say hello to Orik for me."

He was answered only with more grumbling as she unlatched the door and started down their stairs. He faintly heard her voice after their front door squeaked open, "Yes, Kili, he's awake. Yes, he's clothed…mostly."

Whatever teasing Kili gave her for that was likely ignored and he quickly pulled on a pair of pants to make her honest. Mahal, he loved being married to her.

"Come along, Orik. We've lots to do today." Tossing the red-haired dwarf the biscuit she'd grabbed him, Poppy started down the walkway overlooking Erebor's main square. She still had trouble not seeing it as Smaug's treasure room on occasion, but it was home nonetheless.

Clomping down the stairs a step behind her, Orik remained silent as he ate his breakfast. Much to her displeasure, Dwalin had assigned him to her within her first week back. Why she needed a guard in what was supposed to be her home, she was still arguing with him about, but at least Orik was of a quiet persuasion. Apparently he'd been something of a hunter before returning to Erebor and joining the guard.

How he'd caught anything she would never know because like every other dwarf she'd ever met, compared to her his footsteps were ridiculously loud. It threw her off kilter more often than not. What Dwalin either didn't understand or just refused to acknowledge was that she'd lived alone for over a decade. Even if she'd gotten over the strongest of her hermetic traits, she still needed time alone. Life was exhausting otherwise.

Standing in her garden with a silent dwarf did not count as alone.

Smiling and saying good morning to those who greeted her on their way, she arrived first in the royal kitchens. Looking rather harried already—though likely from her own worrying rather than actual problems—Miri greeted her with a crushing hug and a plea for what Dáin most liked to eat.

Rolling her eyes and shrugging her braid over her shoulder, Poppy replied, "Food. You needn't concern yourself further than that. Dáin will eat anything. What do you need the most help with?"

They looked at one another for a short moment before both said in unison, "Bread."

Sighing lightly after the large woman had turned, the hobbit rolled her right shoulder a few times. The last winter she, Gandalf, Bilbo, and Bifur had been traveling through most of the cold months. Her wound had been mostly healed and she hadn't really been able to tell the difference between it and soreness from time spent on a pony. This winter she had the chance.

As October had turned into November and then December, she and Fili had felt the consequences of their battle scars. Though she couldn't say why Bard was convinced of snow, she was prone to agree with him by the stiffness in the joint. Aside Fili, she generally spoke of it to no one. Thorin didn't need to be reminded of old hurts, especially when he was so happy. Annoyed at politics more often than not, but happy.

"Shall we, Orik?" she asked, looking to her shadow with a preemptively tired smile.

Pulling off his gloves and move to wash his hands, he nodded bluntly, "Just tell me what to fetch."

"Flour, salt, and yeast first, please," she answered automatically while fetching a three-legged stool from beside the hearth. It was an old, slightly teetering thing, but she'd claimed it as hers weeks ago. It lived in its place of honor and no kitchen maid who giggled about their princess being a hobbit when Bombur was in hearing was a kitchen maid for long.

His wife being the baker of the couple, he would show up in a few hours with the bairns to get started on the cooking. He clumped everywhere he went these days, but was as jolly and round as ever—in fact, probably more so.

It was past dawn and therefore rather late for bakers, but a half a dozen or so more dwarf women appeared. Each smiled and curtseyed to Poppy upon seeing her, even covered in flour and wrist-deep in dough, then respectfully greeting her with her official title, "Princess Annori."

It still felt incredibly strange to her, but she'd learned to simply smile in acknowledgement of their respect and subsequently be grateful that they spoke with her normally after.

With her troops all present, Miri took on the role of general with a stronger iron fist than even Dáin could manage. And just as his soldiers chanted on the battlefield, their company of bakers had their own music. As steady as a heartbeat, they kept their work lively with songs and chants in Khuzdul that likely drove the old dwarves in the treasury down the hall half mad.

Though she couldn't say for certain, Poppy was convinced that her even partial fluency helped them accept her far quicker than if she'd been forced to stand quietly to the side, unable to understand. Instead, her voice was as strong as the others', booming out the strong sounds and stamping her feet along with the rest.

She honestly wasn't sure of what language she was speaking anymore. Her brain just took what it heard and replied accordingly. She spoke Westron with Tilda, Siggy, and all the other people of Dale. Tauriel ensured her Sindarin remained strong, though from what the Lady Galadriel had told her what felt like so long ago, she wasn't likely to forget it. And Khuzdul felt more natural every day. Again in the ancestral home of their people, the dwarves of Erebor took great pleasure in speaking their own language. All knew Westron and easily spoke with the Men who visited to trade, but Poppy could hear the pride in their voices when they switched back again.

She felt like she was witnessing an entire race find themselves again. There were complaints that she was going to taint the royal line of that race, but she didn't care to listen to that really and the longer she was there, the more she thought most others didn't either.

A baker woman had made a comment along those lines in whispered Khuzdul that she knew she wasn't supposed to understand, but had. Without hesitation, Miri had shouted her not only out of her kitchen but down the stairs, over a walkway, and through the square. She hadn't been back.

Though she hadn't been there, she still heard stories of when one of Thorin's new advisors had formally objected to her when Fili announced their engagement. She had never seen Fili truly, properly livid, but the tale went that he'd made the dwarf twice his age cry. What she had seen was the way his hands had shaken violently after riding across the valley to find her with Tilda and their bees. She'd felt the force of his feelings when he pulled her to him and kissed her in a way that said he'd murder any who tried to take her.

She'd been worried that the little worry line between his eyes would be permanent after seeing the scowl on his face, but it had eased as he helped them through their chores, wrapping up hives to make sure they stayed warm.

Aside from those first unsure moments, it had been a wonderful day. They'd ridden about the valley, hiding among the little stands of trees that were stubbornly beginning their new lives, making up for lost time, and reminding one another of time spent in barrels of fish.

She'd been cold but giddy when they finally returned to a mountain that thought they'd run away and eloped. They were married a mere week later.

Losing herself in her thoughts, Poppy didn't hear her name being called until Orik gently nudged her in the side, a tiny smile on his usually stoic face. Blinking, she saw the others all staring at her with smirks on their faces. "Umm, yes?"

Rolling her eyes teasingly, a mahogany-haired Dwarrowdam named Sig who had taken to walking home with Poppy when they were both in the kitchens late muttered loudly, "Ugh, newlyweds."

Poppy scrunched up her face at her as the others laughed before turning to see what Miri had actually wanted.

Ten rising loaves and a screaming shoulder later, she took her leave to a chorus of farewells.

"Where to now, my lady," Orik asked as they headed toward the square.

"You know I think it's strange when you call me that." Yawning, she replied, "To Ori in the library, Bifur and Bofur at the toyshop, Oin for something about this shoulder, to Thorin to find out when I have to be flour-less for Dáin, and Dwalin to see about getting you a more useful job. Not necessarily in that order."

"I'll never be bored with you, will I, my lady."

"Thorin said something along those lines once and no, you won't. But it's Poppy or Anna. My lady makes me feel important."

Pulling out a pipe and lighting it as they walked, he snickered, "I think it's a bit late to worry about that, my lady."

He caught a few words said under her breath that he would never say in front of his mother before she muttered, "I swear you've been friends with Kili. So irritating."

"I'm going to the washroom. I'll be back shortly."

Moving toward the door of Bifur's toyshop where they, Bombur, and Orik had been either carving or painting new wares since before lunch, she caught her old friend's eye through the smoky air. Silently chuckling, he smirked at her and gave a nod. Just as he always had, he didn't need her to say anything to know what she was really up to.

There was a reason they were still best friends.

Snagging Bifur's heavy hide and fur coat from a hook by the door, she silently crept out into the street, leaving her minder and friends behind.

As planned, she'd seen nearly all her old Company-mates during the course of the morning.

She and Ori had rearranged a new section of books he had decided upon. The library in Erebor now had a shelf all about Elves. Kili had immediately borrowed almost half of them and when they brought the idea up in weeks previous Gloin hadn't stopped grumbling. The master of the library subject to no one but Thorin, Ori hadn't cared. Though his sleeves were still too long and his manner quiet, he had found his voice. None but Dori could shush him these days.

Said brother had taken up the mantle of trader. He ran the shop and Nori went out into the world to acquire their wares—likely somewhat dubiously, she imagined.

In his healing houses full of dwarves with colds, sneezing and hacking into their beards, Oin had said there was little to do for her and Fili's aches aside just waiting them out. He also suggested what she'd come to realize was his cure-all: peppermint tea and honey. With amusement in his eye, he'd also mentioned making Fili rub it for her.

Her trip to see Thorin had also brought her to her husband, Kili, Balin, and Gloin who all slaved away at administering the mountain. She envied them in no way, shape, or form. From the looks they always gave the redhead, they felt much the same way about Orik's task.

Along with getting a kiss from Fili, she learned that she had until roughly sundown before Dáin arrived. That had been hours ago and she was going to take advantage of the time she had.

Pulling on Bifur's coat and the knitted hat he kept in the pocket for her, she scampered as quickly and quietly as she could toward the main gate. If she'd kept proper track, Dwalin should have been at his late lunch that he took with Dís once every week. That meant he wasn't standing up on the battlements with his eagle eyes, just waiting for her to make a break for it without Orik.

As hoped, she found Gimli in charge of the gate. He handed her a light short sword to keep on her saddle as customary by then.

She was fond of Gloin's son and had found a surprising ally in the usually rule-loving dwarf. As he'd said it one day she'd successfully lost Orik and he was about to let her pass unhindered, "Master Dwalin is the Captain of the Guard, but you're Princess of Erebor, wife of Prince Fili, and the Dragon-rider. Who am I to stop you?"

Waving to him, she quickly grabbed one of the ponies on shift to stay harnessed in case of emergency. The white creature had a sweet temperament and loved a good gallop. Kili had named her Moira after Fili's pony from the first leg of their journey. She took her whenever she could.

Pulling herself up into the saddle, she smiled as she patted the pony's neck, "Are you feeling up to a nice run today, Moira?"

She was answered with a happy whicker and they were off. Turning back, she called, "Thank you, Gimli!"

Hands up in the air and the cold wind buffeting her face as Moira galloped as she wished, she thought she could hear the dwarf laughing behind her. Reveling in the open air, she let the pony run for as long as she liked. Only when she'd slowed, shaking her mane happily, did Poppy turn them purposefully toward Dale.

Feeling the chill deep in her toes, she looked up to the grey sky and agreed with Bard all the more. Snow was on its way, a good, strong snow.

They trotted happily into town, she found Tilda with little trouble. Nearly everyone she passed guessed at her purpose and pointed her in the right direction. Even if Bard was still unsure of being King Bard, he and his children were undoubtedly adored by their people.

The girl hugged her as soon as she slipped down from Moira's back. A smirk on her face, she asked, "Where's Orik?"

"Oh, behind…somewhere. So, tell me of this new man of Siggy's."

Liking nothing so much as to gossip about her big sister, Tilda launched into the details of the older girl's new admirer. If he remained serious, Poppy couldn't help but feel a tad bit sorry for the lad. Bard was intimidating enough all on his own, but Thorin and Dwalin had both grown fond of the bowman's eldest daughter also. So was Gimli for that matter. The boy was going to have an inordinate amount of people to prove his worth to.

They spent a lovely few hours looking after their drowsy winter bees. Both were constantly fascinated by the low hum that came from the hives. According to Beorn's notes, bees fluttered their wings to keep warm through the cold months, huddling together in a great cluster. Neither of them had gotten the courage to open the hives and look, but they were always pressing their ears to the sides to listen.

The sun was beginning to set behind the thick cloud cover when Poppy finally took her leave of Tilda and her father who'd come to talk about the upcoming Yule. With a warm mug of cider to warm her, she felt much better about braving the falling snowflakes outside. They were already piling up on rooves and walls, adding a blanket of white to the town.

Knowing that she'd likely already missed Dáin's arrival, she took her time riding back, spreading her arms and smiling at the snow. Even when she'd had to wait out blizzards in her little badger hole in the Old Forest, she'd always loved snow. It made everything beautiful.

Following a wide track through the snow that was likely as high as Poppy's knees, she and Moira drew up to the gate gratefully. Slipping off the pony, Poppy led her over the narrow moat, "Come on, we'll get you some lovely oats and all will be well."

"Well now, lass, do travelers get accorded the same courtesy?"

Poppy would recognize that booming voice anywhere. Smiling, she found Dáin and his entourage just arrived, too. She must have been but ten minutes behind them and unable to see them through the falling snow. Returning his tight embrace, she nodded, "But of course. I wouldn't have spent my morning making bread if not, you know."

"Nonsense, lass. You hobbits are always baking if I remember correctly. What are ye doing out in the cold on such a day."

Rolling her eyes, she replied as she led Moira to her stall and relieved her of her tack, "Escaping Dwalin's ever-watchful eye."

The volume of his laugh startled a surprised whicker out of Moira and when Poppy turned back to him, he was grinning broadly. "He gave you a bodyguard, didn't he?"

The flat look she gave answered him as well as her exasperated reply, "Aye."

"Aye, that sounds just like Dwalin, the bugger. Now, how would ye like to escort us all to the main hall in proper fashion, oh princess of the mountain."

"If it will keep me out of trouble for running away for the afternoon, gladly." Making to take his arm, she asked with a smile, "Shall we?"

Instead of answering, he merely grabbed her about the waist and swung her up onto his shoulders as he'd done before. "I said proper, lass. For the two of us, this is proper. Come along, lads! We've got their princess; they have no choice but to welcome us now."

Amongst the laughter of Dáin's men and the guards near enough to hear, they started forward.

"So, lass, how's being married…?" His tone clearly said he was asking about one aspect in particular.

Not letting him hear her giggling or see the red of her face, she reached out and rapped harshly on his forehead, "Shut up, Dáin."

His laughter preceded them into the hall.

Only just keeping his voice as something passable for a whisper, Dwalin demanded, "But where is she?!"

From his uncle's other side where they were waiting to receive Dáin and his men, Fili couldn't help but laugh into his embroidered sleeve. Poppy had been losing Orik at random for weeks and nothing bad ever befell her. He never worried. Not only could she take care of herself, it was in her nature to seek solitude. Though Dwalin didn't, he understood that his wife just needed time to herself on occasion.

Leaning over and whispering lightly in Sindarin, Tauriel noted, "One would think he was the Meduianna's husband instead of you."

"She'd drive him to madness even faster," he replied with a laugh.

The others all looked at them with a measure of confusion—they still weren't used to him speaking the Elves' tongue around them—but soon went back to the assumed disaster at hand.

Gone back to muttering and gesturing angrily in Orik's face in turn, Dwalin quietly raged for a few more moments until Balin said with a smirk, "She's here."

They followed his gaze to see the hobbit in her old position atop Dáin's shoulders, her elbow resting on the top of his head, chin in hand, and the dwarf laughing loudly. By the blush on her face, Fili ventured to guess that his cousin was making some rather bawdy comments. If he knew what was good for him, he'd put them to rest before Dís heard him.

Before anyone could say another word, Dáin reached them and greeted boomingly with open arms, "Cousin!"

After embracing Thorin, he turned to Fili and winked, "Fili, lad, I think you misplaced something."

"Dáin, if you refer to me as a 'thing' one more time, I'm giving Kili your Yule present."

Much to Fili's amusement, the redhead paused before placing her back on the ground and nodding gravely, "Lovely wife, you've got, Fili, lad. Smart of you, marrying all the war heroines."

"Yes, I like to think so. Good to see you, Dáin."

As all the other greetings were exchanged, he whispered in her pointed ear, "You lost him for a whole afternoon. Well done."

"I've been planning for days." Rocking up onto her toes, she kissed him on the cheek before asking with a wide smile, "Can we go out and watch the snow later?"

He'd been waiting for that question ever since they'd been told earlier in the day that the snow was starting to come down. Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he grinned and replied, "Of course."

A few hours later found Fili up on the topmost battlements, huddled beside a blazing brazier and beneath a heavy wool blanket. Leaning back against his chest, his hobbit was tucked beneath his chin, smiling with almost childlike wonder as they watched the snowflakes come down in the lantern light.

Pressing a kiss to her neck after the guard on his rounds had passed them by, he said quietly, "I used to daydream about this, you know. When we were in Thranduil's prison and I was bored out of my mind, I used to dream about doing this."

Blue eyes flickering in the firelight, she smiled when she looked over her shoulder at him, "Me making you sit out in the snow with me?"

"Aye," he nodded, burying his nose in her hair and tightening his hold on her waist after freeing her braid. "I know you. You love being outside, even during the first true snow of winter."

She gave a happy sort of hum as she settled further back into him. Curling her fingers about one of his forearms, she whispered into the night, "Fili, you make me happy."

Something in his chest that felt decidedly like the lion that was always purring and roaring around her immediately decided that was his greatest accomplishment to date. After a little over a month of marriage in the middle of their first snow, he knew that despite all that she suddenly had to take on, the mountain of people she had to accept as her own, and the titles and responsibilities and sheer amount of culture unfamiliar to her, despite all of that, she was happy.

A worry he hadn't actually acknowledged having suddenly left him. She was happy.

Shifting her head to look at him, she then asked with an unashamed grin in her voice, "What else did you daydream about?"

Mahal above, he really did love being married to her.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoyed! Thanks again Fantasylover101. :D