A/N: Merry almost-Christmas to everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful December. So, I got a great response to the last chapter and the muse sort of descended. That one, this one, and probably one more all go together. I'll put little numerals in the chapter names so it's a little clearer that they're a set.
On that note, A Little Secret is for TheEarthSong who wanted to see Bifur, Bofur, and some Fili (may her knee surgery treat her well!) and Fantasylover101 who wanted Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin being bros. :)
No matter how many times he asked or how subtly he attempted to phrase the question, Thorin had yet to get the name Poppy and Fili had planned for their child were it a son. They'd already stopped by the couriers and the somewhat joking but really entirely serious proclamations going to the overbearing Company members were away. Anticipating something of a stampede of his friends bursting into his office, Thorin had made the executive decision to simply be done for the day.
Part of his kingly duty was spending time with the other members of his house and Poppy could use the company.
Besides, he could always just get the few truly pressing things finished during dinner that night. No matter how stern his sister was, Dís was not allowed to forbid him from doing his paperwork at his dinner table. He still held onto that much of his independence.
"Is it a secret from all the others or are you just being mean to me in particular?"
Poppy laughed, "If you'd like someone to blame, look at your nephew. Fili is the one who wanted it to be a surprise if it's a boy. I just haven't argued the point. Oh, but Kili has no idea if that makes you feel any better. Though, that's me being mean to him. For one, he couldn't keep the secret, and for two, I just enjoy getting back at his orneriness."
They walked a ways farther in amiable silence, neither one of them really leading but both somehow knowing where they were going.
They weren't alone—Orik and two of his personal guards followed along behind—because Mahal forbid there not be a guard about. Dwalin and his cursed job efficiency. Regardless, the pathways above the main market hall were good ones to walk.
With roughly three years to rebuild and a populace of very determined dwarves, the halls about them were back to their original splendor. There was just enough different for Thorin to notice as he'd grown up amongst the originals, but somehow he preferred the new. They were brighter, prouder, but not because they held more gold.
His people had done this. They had risen from the ashes and rubble and remade that which was taken from them. And, somehow he'd managed to lead them through it. Despite his less than stellar start as king, this he could and would always be proud of. Those years ago in Bree when he'd met Gandalf and the wizard had shared his desire to retake Erebor, he honestly never thought he'd end up where he was.
A little corner of his mind had always believed he'd die before the end, that he'd never quite make it home, let alone be a king and a friend and a great-uncle who got to feel a babe's first big kick. He supposed he had two hobbits to thank for proving all his fears false.
"You've your Gandalf face on. What are you thinking about so hard?" The fond smile on her face narrowed into a momentary glare as she added, "And don't you dare say nothing."
After the whole Ent water, Old Forest, extended life business that the wizard had seen fit to keep to himself, Poppy didn't really take to evasive answers well. She was a bit quicker to anger in the past months, but replying with 'oh nothing' or 'you needn't concern yourself, princess' was a sure way to get verbally beaten about the head by multiple languages. In all honesty, it made her rather invaluable in meetings with any reticent participants. She found being his secret meeting weapon rather amusing.
Answering before her temper could catch, he shrugged, "Just that we've come a long way from invading Bilbo's pantry and speaking of dragons and burglars around his poor, overburdened dining table."
She might've said something in response to that, but a loud voice they both knew well shattered the low, comforting hum of activity in the space.
"Oi! What is this?!"
As a dirt-covered, out-of-breath Bofur with a large, official-looking parchment in his hand stomped toward them, the tips of his hat bouncing with each step, Thorin leaned down and whispered, "Do you want to take this or should I?"
Bifur was following behind his cousin, laughing in his silent way so hard that he had to lean against the wall for support. It appeared Bofur had received his directive.
Perfectly mischievous smile on her face, Poppy replied, "Oh, I will."
Stepping forward with her arms crossed over her belly, she greeted, "Bofur, friend, what can Thorin and I do for you today?"
"What is this?!"
"That, I believe," she said with effortless aplomb, "is an official directive requiring you to stop being an overbearing pissant where your pregnant but not invalid friend is concerned. I imagine the language is quite easy to understand. Thorin is good at those sorts of things."
Smirking inwardly when he heard a laugh from one of their guards quickly turned into a cough, he added helpfully, "I believe I used the word friend not pissant, but yes, that's the gist of it."
Apparently she was rather fond of that word today.
Bofur's eyes had gone wide with what was likely a mixture of confused hurt and amusement because his sense of humor couldn't ignore what was happening to him.
Seeing Balin weaving his way through the market below on a path toward his house, Thorin decided it was likely time to bow out. Bofur didn't need an audience of friends when dealing with Poppy's grievances, let alone one with a few guards he'd never said more than a hello and perhaps told a story to—with Bofur that was over half the mountain and probably most of Dale. He was popular with the children of Dale, Tilda foremost among them.
"I shall take my leave. Poppy, I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you…for today." He stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Sidling over to Bofur, he muttered quietly, "Instead of hiding the stool to keep her from working, just grab her the wood, get her whittling knife back from Oin, and help her when she asks. Trust me."
He nodded and gave a smirk to a still huffing Bifur before starting down the stairs. He hadn't visited Balin at home in a while.
As Thorin disappeared down the stairs, his guards following after him, Bofur gaped at Poppy, for once without words. Her arms had risen from resting on her belly to crossed angrily over her chest the longer he stared. Rolling her eyes, she demanded, "Well don't just stare at me like a simpleton! Say something!"
He blinked at her a few more times before noting simply, "You're angry at me."
"Of course I'm angry at you! I've been angry at you for weeks."
"But—"
Throwing her hands in the air, she let out a noise of frustration. "No! No buts. I'm pregnant, not helpless and, so help me Mahal, you're all going to realize it! Do I make myself clear?"
Bofur's voice finally returned to him, his humor tagging right along with it. He'd never been the type to be around anger for long, whether it was coming from him or directed at him. Besides, he supposed the lass did have a point. Without Thorin, he wouldn't have had a clue as to what she was shouting about, but with some context, he had been a bit of a…overbearing pissant.
"Alright, lass. I'm sorry." Cracking a grin, he asked, "Will I be needing to pen up an official letter of apology now?"
There were a few moments of pause before she shook her head. What he realized was the first genuine smile she'd shined his way in weeks blazed up at him before she laughed, "No, but you're welcome to convince Kili to write one."
Stepping forward and taking her arm at the same time Bifur did, knowing she wouldn't mind if he got a little dirt on her, Bofur smirked, "Oh, he got one too, did he?"
"Almost all of you did," she deadpanned back. "You're all bordering on impossible."
"You've known that from the beginning, lass. There's no reason for us to change our ways now. Have you eaten supper yet? I'm starving. Oh, do you want to hear about the best thing that happened down in the mines today? It's wonderful. You have to hear it."
As he started in on his tale, Poppy and Bifur exchanged smiles. One down, most of a Company to go, she supposed.
They'd reached the bottom of the stairs and were turning toward the royal kitchens where Bombur and Miri would feed them without question when Poppy felt it again.
Grabbing both the arms twined with hers, she quickly pressed her friends' hands to her belly. "She's very excited today. She kicked for Thorin earlier. I wonder if she'll like running or something."
Much as Thorin had, the two dwarves stared at her stomach with wide eyes, neither daring to so much as breathe until the sensation beneath their fingers ended.
Laughing at Bofur's expression, Poppy noted wryly, "See, she's not some fragile egg. She's not going to just shatter at any moment that I'm not in a chair."
His voice fled for the second time in less than an hour, Bofur couldn't come up with words. He was just caught looking from his hand to her stomach and back. She wondered if she could convince the babe to do this for each of these fights she was bound to have… Given her father was Fili, she doubted her child would mind being a bit of a diplomat.
He was due back that either that evening or the next morning. She couldn't wait for him to feel his son or daughter move.
Bright, warm smile on his face, Bifur wrapped his hobbit in a hug. Pressing a kiss to the side of her head, he started them on their way again. Arm still about her shoulder, he grinned again, "The babe is half you and half Fili. She doesn't have it in her blood to be anything but stubborn."
Line
It was late, far too late to go back to his office and finish the paperwork looming over his crowned head, but Thorin couldn't find it in him to care. All of that could be gotten to in the morning. He had no doubt that the few steins of ale and the cloud of pipe smoke had something to do with that, but he didn't mind.
Spending some time with Balin and Dwalin—his guards sitting out on the front step with their own pipes—with no crowns, no official business, and no advisors was worth it. He was the king. He was allowed to occasionally shirk his work and spend time with his friends. At some point before the morning, he'd come up with a convincing reason for why before Dís found him.
Dwalin had arrived not long after he had and an impromptu evening not at all like one of their much younger days had ensued. No pubs were visited. No songs were sung. No women were smiled at. Instead, they simply sat about the fire with each other, drinking and smoking and laughing at stories of when they had done all those things.
Dwalin's letter of warning concerning his behavior toward Poppy had also come up. Balin had laughed himself breathless for a good five minutes at the story and beamed proudly that he hadn't gotten one. They were past the topic but Poppy, Fili, and what he'd felt that day was still floating about in his ale-calmed mind when he heard himself ask.
"Do either of you know what Fili and Poppy are naming their babe if it's a boy?"
Glancing up out of his ale, Thorin knew the answer to that, but the look his two oldest friends exchanged confirmed it even further. Dwalin kept his face mostly impassive but Balin couldn't withhold a sparkling grin.
"Aye," the elder brother answered, "but we can't say. We've been promised to secrecy."
Thorin raised an eyebrow, "Even from your king?"
"I'm more afraid of Poppy than you, Thorin," Dwalin snorted. Immediately afterward, he added, "Don't mention that to her, though. The lass will finally convince me to reassign Orik."
"Does it have something to do with me? The name, I mean. If it does, you need to convince them to change their minds." When both Balin and Dwalin stared at him with confused, somewhat disbelieving eyes, he pressed, "It shouldn't have to do with me. Their babe deserves a name without so much history tied to it. Besides, Fili is the father. He should pass on his own name. And Poppy has no reason to want mine."
"Of course she does," Dwalin interrupted rather harshly, releasing an angry puff of smoke ceiling-ward. "She's every reason and every right if she wants to. You're not the father she got, but you're the father and friend that she found when she needed it. She can name her babe after you if she damn well pleases."
Balin didn't add anything to that, but he did sort of nod in agreement.
Thorin was still in the midst of coming up with reasons why that was false, when Balin's front door banged loudly open. All three of them were instinctively on their feet before they properly saw who it was. Frowning, Thorin demanded once he recognized the head of blonde hair in the doorway, "Fili, what by Mahal are you doing here? Why aren't you with Poppy?"
Panting as if he'd just run straight from Mirkwood, Fili closed the space and promptly hugged his uncle. Stepping back at arms' length he veritably shouted, "I was just there. Anna said you felt it-him-her kick! You felt my baby kick!"
The darker haired dwarf blinked a few times. Fili was animated, but was panting too hard to tell precisely how he felt about that… Unsure, he nodded, "Aye, I'm sorry. Poppy was hiding in my office and she just grabbed my hand and there it was. I'm sorry you didn't—"
"No, I'm not angry that you felt it first." A wide grin had spread over Fili's face and what had to be excited tears were starting to gather in his eyes. "Just…Just tell me what it was like. Anna tried, but it's different because she feels it all the time. It's in her. But you felt it."
He pulled his uncle into another hug and whispered, "Uncle, you felt my child move."
There was an awe in his voice that clearly said he couldn't believe it and repeating it was the only way to convince himself it was true. Smiling in return, Thorin decided he wouldn't mind a bit of convincing himself. As it happened, he was the one who'd have to give it.
"Do you remember when you and Kili would catch butterflies and crickets and fireflies when you were little? They would jump and flutter against the inside of your hands trying to get out. It felt like that, like a butterfly trying to escape."
Mahal save him, he was becoming poetic.
"You felt my child move. I'm going to be a father…" The awe had turned into something closer to shock.
"Balin, I think we need another ale." Holding in the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape as Dwalin snorted in the background and Balin coughed suspiciously, Thorin settled on only a gentle smile as he handed his nephew his nearly empty cup to hold him over. "Yes. Yes, you are, my sister-son. And you're going to be wonderful at it."
A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if you wish, and I hope you enjoyed! More before Christmas if I'm industrious, but more before New Year's Eve I promise! Lovely holidays to everyone.
