Fool for u

The long-overdue celebration where everyone got drunk

Quick note: Bombur's wife and children's names are completely made-up. Just saying... now enjoy the chapter!

Six months later…

It took Thorin, Fili and Kili a week before they woke up, another for their wounds to heal further, and a third before they could slowly start walking without tearing their stitches open. Exactly a month later, the three royals were moving about as if the battle never happened.
And, yes, it was good having them back and the Company back to its full number… but it was safe to say that everyone liked Thorin better unconscious. Especially Oin. As if he wasn’t a difficult patient while asleep, it was almost impossible for Oin to treat his wounds while he was awake. He was fussy about everything; the ointments smelled funny, that salve irritated his skin, that made him itch, that made his eyes water, that made him sneeze, the bandage was too tight, no, he didn’t need stitches - rephrase, he didn’t want stitches.
The others would find Oin at in the kitchen downing ale as if it was his last day alive. He would curse and complain about their leader and his fussiness, and how Fili was probably his favourite patient. Ever.
Apparently, Kili wasn’t any easier than his uncle. The young prince was so surprised when he woke up to the sight of Tauriel holding his hand., in fact, he was so surprised, he fainted yet again and didn’t wake for another three hours. After that, there was no working with him for Oin. Kili would not stop talking about the she-elf as the healer checked up on his wounds. He would blabber on and on and miss Oin’s orders for him to lift his arms so he could wrap the bandages around him. Kili was completely uncooperative while stricken with love, and Oin finally gave up after the young prince’s latest habit; staring off into the distance for hours on end with the most dreamy look in those puppy eyes. While in that state, the healer might as well set Kili on fire and he wouldn’t even notice.
“That’s why I turned to drinkin’!” The healer exclaimed after explaining to the others the reason for his moodiness, “Ye can’t work with ‘em sober. Bofur, pass me another barrel. Bofur? Bofur!”
Bofur blinked when he heard his name being called, snapping him out of his dreamy staring at Periwinkle across the room, “Sorry, what?”
“Ah, yer no better than Kili!” Oin nagged and reached over the table to fetch his own ale.
Periwinkle kept Bilbo up to date on Thorin and the princes’ progress. She bid farewell to her hobbit friend a week after the battle. He stayed only long enough for the two of them to explore the mountain together before he claimed he missed his home. His departure was heartbreaking, but he promised to write regularly and visit as soon as he could. At least Periwinkle could watch him leave with a smile, knowing that he finally grew to enjoy travelling as much as she did.
A month after the battle has passed, Balin sent word to their kin in the Blue Mountains; Erebor has been reclaimed and they could return home. As soon as the message has been sent, the Company could begin their next task - rebuilding the bridge to the gates of Erebor to welcome their kin the day they would arrive. After that, they could begin restoring the mountain piece by piece.
Periwinkle and Bofur were mostly partnered up at the beginning of the restorations until they were caught by Dwalin snogging behind a shelf when they were supposed to clean up the library. And it wasn’t just Dwalin who were unfortunate enough to stumble upon them. Balin, Oin, Gloin and Dori all walked in on random halls and rooms to find the couple either kissing, joking around or napping and finally decided to pair them up with other dwarves instead. As long as they were together, they would get nothing done. So Bofur was paired up with Bifur in restoring the forge, while Periwinkle with Bombur in the kitchen.
When Thorin, Fili and Kili were able to join them at last, they immediately started planning a feast for when their kin would arrive. It would be the biggest celebration in the history of Middle Earth and, as Thorin stated, would last weeks on end. It was music to Periwinkle’s ears. Just think; food, music, dancing, laughing, celebrating… she could remember the last time she had been at a party.
In the few months they were busy restoring the mountain, trade had reopened between Dale and Erebor. Thorin stayed true to his word and gave Laketown their share of the wealth to rebuild their lives - in fact, he even gave them double for the inconvenience he caused. Their favourite royal tree-shagger also got what he wanted, and perhaps it was safe to assume there was peace between Erebor and Mirkwood for now.
Periwinkle was astonished at how fast a group of thirteen dwarves could restore almost an entire kingdom. It took them only a few days to clean and fix the Hall of the Kings, which was huge, considering that’s where the celebration would take place. It took them even less time to fix up the rest of the main halls and rooms of the mountain. By the end of five months, they could proudly walk through the Hall of the Kings, the kitchens, the dining halls, the library and the forge without seeing a single sign of a dragon inhabiting the mountain.
But something else happened after they completed their restorations; Bofur would start disappearing during the early mornings and would show his face until supper. At first, Periwinkle didn’t let it bother her as much, but after the same routine repeated for two weeks, she decided to ask Bombur.
“I don’t know where he goes, he never tells me.” She rambled while the ginger dwarf occupied himself in the kitchen, baking rolls and pies, “And no matter how much I nag and beg him to tell me, he always replies with the same words; I was runnin’ a few errands, lass. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” She plopped down a chair with a frustrated groan, “I’m clueless, Bombur. I was hoping you knew and could enlighten me.”
Bombur caressed a roll of dough in his hands as he listened to her rambling sympathetically. After the battle, he opened up to her surprisingly a lot. He was still as shy as always, but eventually talked to her the more she helped him in the kitchen, “Sorry to hear that, lass. But I’m afraid I never knew much of what goes on in that head of his. But I also know Bofur never could keep a secret for too long. He’s too blunt for that.”
Periwinkle snorted, “That sounds about right.” She sighed in defeat and reluctantly accepted that her silly dwarf would tell her eventually. Her eyes smiled at Bombur as she joined him at the table, “Let me help you. I’ve been craving pies for a while now.”
What Periwinkle also didn’t know was that Bofur wasn’t disappearing alone the last week before the celebration. Thorin was going with him most days and they would hold secret meetings throughout the day. They’ve come to an agreement the day before the dwarves of the Blue Mountains arrived, something Bofur couldn’t contain his excitement for.
The reunion was spectacular, almost like something from a book. Everywhere one looked they could see dwarves, dwarves and more dwarves. Gloin was reunited with his wife and son, Fili and Kili with their mother and Bombur with his wife and… small army of children. Periwinkle’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull at the sight of them. When Bofur told her he had many children, he failed to add the word ‘abundance’.
“By my beard!” Bofur exclaimed when he ran to greet his sister-in-law and nieces and nephews, “Did ye multiply when we were gone?!”
“Uncle Bofur!” The little ones all yelled at once and swarmed him.
Bofur yelped when they jumped him. Periwinkle watched her silly dwarf being buried alive underneath ten… eleven… twelve… thirteen… fourteen small dwarves! All she could make out of him was the occasional arm or foot that shot out from underneath the pile.
“Periwinkle.” She turned towards Bombur, eyes still wide of what she just beheld. The ginger dwarf had a gentle hold on a female dwarf who was almost just as round as him - although she remembered some of the dwarves telling her their dwarrowdams were a bit on the beefy side. “’Tis here is my wife Mór.”
“So nice to meet you.” Periwinkle managed to form words. She offered the dwarrowdam a friendly nod and smile.
But Mór only grabbed her by the arms and embraced her in a bone-crushing hug, “Why so formal? Yer my brother-in-law’s One, we’re practically family!” She spoke with an accent almost similar to Bofur’s. Once Mór eased her grip on Periwinkle, she briefly pressed their foreheads together before saying excitedly, “I can’t wait for you to meet the children.”
“Sorry, what…?” Periwinkle chocked for air when she was interrupted by the dam’s voice as she called the little ones.
“Oi, let yer uncle be and come meet yer new aunt!”
“Oh, I’m not… we’re not…” Periwinkle stammered but was yet again cut off when she was jumped from behind. She yelped as she fell to her knees and was instantly surrounded by fourteen little round-faced dwarf tots.
Bombur chortled at the sight and named his children as they skipped around her excitedly, “’Tis is Ram, Tam, Frang, Teá, Terfel, Tudur, Griff, Mórgaine, Dewi, Bedo, Hywel, Nudd, Bedwyr, and my youngest, Ina.”
Periwinkle had given in and was sitting flat on the ground for the tots to do with her as they pleased. The three girls were either on her lap or at her back, admiring her hair, while the boys clung to her arms and legs, playing tug-of-war with their new ‘aunt’. Most of them had the same ginger hair and beards as Bombur, while Mórgaine, Nudd and Bedwyr took to their mother with light auburn locks and sideburns.
“Where’s your beard?” One asked curiously.
Remembering the dwarven females had beards, Periwinkle quickly made up a story to entertain them with, “It got burned off while we were battling a dragon.” The tots gasped in awe and the youngest one, Ina, ran her hands over the smooth skin on Periwinkle’s cheeks, “We managed to slay it, but I lost my beard in the battle. It will never grow back again.”
“But you have enough hair to make up for it!” One of the others exclaimed and grabbed a handful of her locks, holding it to her mouth and chin to act as a beard.
“Yes, I suppose I do.” Periwinkle nodded sagely and squeezed a strand of hair between her nose and upper lip, “I bet I have even a better moustache than your uncle Bofur.”
“We’ll just have to see ‘bout that.” Bofur grinned. He watched her lovingly as she interacted with Bombur’s kids. He half-expected her to be running for the hills after seeing how many there were, but she instantly proved him wrong. Bofur chuckled and scooped one of his nephews in his arms, “Alright, give your aunt Periwinkle some space. Go say hello to yer uncle Bifur. He can talk again!”
In a flash, the children scampered off to find Bifur. Periwinkle felt sorry for the former mute dwarf, he had no idea what’s coming for him.