She wasn't planned, but she was very welcome, their little princess. Svenja. The name meant female warrior, and a warrior she was, from the moment she came into being. Their little princess (or warrior) had been born two weeks early and the birth itself hadn't been without complications.
Sigrid would often claim that it had been her fault because she hadn't taken care of herself properly since she hadn't known about her pregnancy in the beginning. Fíli would have none of it. He would always say that Sigrid had done everything she could to keep their daughter safe while not knowing about her condition (that is being pregnant).
However, after twelve hours of labour Fíli had been sent out of the delivery room because the doctors needed to perform a caesarean section. And so he had sat with Kíli, Tauriel, Dís, Thorin and Bard in the waiting area; they had not been talking to each other. The only comfort he had gotten was Kíli holding his hand and Tauriel somehow managing to wrap her arms around the two of them. And then she was there, this bundle of joy. His little princess. Their little princess.
Fíli would never forget what it had felt like to hold her for the very first time, his daughter: 47 centimetres and 2710 grams of life.
After five days, his girls - Sigrid and Svenja - could come home with him. It would be the best days of his life. Fíli used every opportunity to take pictures of Svenja, sleeping in her crib, being breastfed by Sigrid, being bathed by her auntie Tauriel, having her diapers changed by her uncle Kíli, being held by her grandma, her grandpa, and great-uncle, smiling because Bain and Tilda were making funny faces.
But then, one morning, ten days after her birth, Sigrid noticed that something was wrong with their baby girl. She wasn't drinking properly and running a fever. Fíli, still in his grey sleeping pants and a well-worn olive-green t-shirt rushed his girlfriend (still in leggings, top and flip-flops) and their daughter to the paediatrician, only taking some time to put on his trainers (later he noticed that they had been Kíli's).
Then, at the doctor's, they had to wait for almost one and a half hours before the paediatrician examined their daughter, sending them immediately to the hospital because something was wrong with her lungs.
There they had to wait again.
Fíli watched helplessly as Sigrid clutched their tiny daughter to her chest, wrapped in her yellow-and-pink crotched blanket, a gift from Dís for the little girl's birth, humming a lullaby. He tried to ignore the judging stares of the other people in the waiting area.
Of course they would judge them, not being properly dressed and oh-so-young (Sigrid was only nineteen, Fíli twenty-four), in the eyes of the others they must be bad parents. But they weren't. They would do anything for their daughter. Anything.
And then the devastating news: Svenja had to stay in the hospital because she had trouble breathing due to pneumonia and they even had to use ECMO on her!
Since Sigrid refused to leave her daughter's side, it was Fíli who called their family in order to tell them what was wrong with their little princess. Half an hour later, they were all there at the hospital: Kíli and Tauriel, Bard, Tilda and Bain, Dís and Thorin. Fíli didn't even try to hide his tears.
"The doctor advised us to say our goodbyes - she might not last the night!" he sobbed.
It was Kíli who took him into his arms, trying to offer some comfort while crying himself, Thorin punched the nearest wall, Dís collapsed into one of the chairs in the waiting area, Bard pulled Bain and Tilda close, Tauriel pressed a hand to her mouth, blinking away tears.
Svenja was definitely well loved.