Thorin sits on his throne, his demeanor imposing despite the festive atmosphere of the newly reclaimed halls of Erebor. Baelin leads the preparations in delegating tasks to the others, every now and then glancing to Thorin with a knowing smile She will be here, Thorin...he says. Thorin shifts stubbornly, not wanting to admit that you've been weighing on his mind a great deal. He hasn't seen you in many years; since childhood. But a betrothal is a betrothal and he intends to make good on it
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