Frerin nudged his brother. "You're breathing like a tired dog," he whispered.

"This is not quite the wedding I had planned to give her," Thorin whispered back.

The dwarves had mustered what little they had to decorate for the prince's wedding. Two large fires burned and between them stood King Thror, Thorin, Thrain and Frerin.

The dwarven men of Erebor were seated on the ground, bundled up and huddled close together, their noses and ears red but smiling nonetheless.

"Don't worry," Frerin whispered, "Marryn cares not for riches. You've said so yourself."

Thorin gulped, sighed and nodded.

Suddenly a hush came over the crowd as the first notes of a traditional wedding march sung by women's voices rang through the air.

The dwarf women surrounded the bride as they normally would, breaking away two by two to join the crowd until only Dís and Marryn remained. The princess led the human up to stand across from Thorin on the other side of the king.

The bride was draped in all the white clothes and linens that the women had left, some of it faintly stained with mud or ash. She wore no jewelry or flowers, but her silvery hair was run through with several thick braids and a crown of dried orange leaves sat upon her head.

Thror coughed slightly and said, "We've, er, never performed a marriage ceremony in the common tongue before. Never had to."

The assembly chuckled quietly. Thorin smiled at Marryn with a twinkle in his eye.

"And I know we're all eager to get the formalities out of the way," Thror said, winking "Each for our own reasons."

A roar rose from the crowd and Thorin and Marryn blushed slightly, but smiled and laughed along with the crowd of the dwarves.

"Therefore, I will have to translate as best as I can," Thror said, "The rings, please, Frerin."

Frerin pretended for a moment that he'd lost them, earning him a light-hearted punch from his brother when he finally produced them.

Thorin's moon pebble had been ground and polished into a luminous band, while Marryn's had been mounted like a diamond on an intricately woven band of metal by one of the master jewelers among the dwarves of Erebor.

"May your days be bright as these gems, er, pebbles from the earth," Thror recited, "May your union be as strong as the foundations of our world. May the trials of your life refine and strengthen you as precious things in a forge."

He handed Thorin Marryn's ring, saying, "Thorin, as you place this ring upon Marryn's finger, will you vow to love her as she is and as she will become? To protect her and be strong where she is weak? To choose her and only her as long as you both shall live? And, will you vow to take her at your side and weather what the world will throw at you, never losing sight of this promise?"

"I will," Thorin replied, placing the ring on Marryn's finger.

Thror gave Marryn Thorin's ring, "And will you, Marryn, as you place this ring upon Thorin's finger, vow to love him as he is and as he will become? To protect him and be strong where he is weak? To choose him and only him as long as you both shall live? And, will you vow to take him at your side and weather what the world will throw at you, never losing sight of this promise?"

"I will," Marryn grinned down at Thorin, placing the ring on his finger.

"Before Ilúvatar, Aulë, and before the dwarves of Erebor, I pronounce Thorin and Marryn husband and wife," Thror concluded.

The dwarves cheered raucously as Thorin kissed his bride. There was no feasting or dancing, for the night was cold and no food could be spared. The dwarves could only send the new couple off with songs and blessings.

They retreated to a ramshackle shed made of wood and shrubs. Inside, it was warm and full of humble gifts.

Thorin took Marryn's hands in his and kissed them softly.

"What would you ask of me, love?" he whispered.

"Make me yours," she whispered in reply.

Thorin smiled and explored her with shaking hands, kissing her softly.