Myrrh closed her eyes as the old healer scuffled into the bedroom.

"Myrrh… this is your fifth…"

"I know… I… I just want to be sure before I tell him."

She came closer and touched Myrrh's forehead.

"Does he have any idea?"

A sob broke from her lips and she wept as the clanging from the smithy behind their house grew steadily louder.

"I'm sure he knows…"

The healer lifted the blankets entangled around Myrrh's legs slowly and grimaced.

"I'll prepare some water for a bath, m'lady-"

"Please… please don't tell him." Tears streamed down Myrrh's face as she reached for the healer's hand. "But can you tell me if I… if I could carry his child?"

The healer pulled a short stool to the bed and sat heavily.

"My sweet daughter… Each time you grow more than the first, but that does not bode well. The events will only grow worse."

"But I… I carried this one for nearly six months…"

The healer grasped her hands and looked brokenhearted.

"But not the nine, my daughter."

Thorin let the hammer drop and turned away from the anvil and red-hot horseshoe, bringing his hand to his forehead, caught between the need to sob and the urge to vomit. The side door to their house closed and he looked up anxiously at the healer, who was carrying an empty bucket.

"Please… how is she?"

The healer looked down and Thorin followed her gaze as the hot, salty tears came. She rubbed his shoulder gently before moving to the well. Soft, broken sobs came from their bedroom window and he went inside slowly.

"Myrrh…?"

She looked up at him for a heartbeat before turning her body away, weeping into the pillow.

"Myrrh, I-"

"Thorin… I'm so sorry…"

He came closer, but Fíli's footsteps approached and Myrrh looked over her shoulder, horrified. Thorin turned and led Fíli out before he could even come in.

"Uncle, is Aunta ill?"

"Where's Kíli?"

"Playing with his bow."

"Do you want to go hunting with me? Both of you?"

Fíli grinned and ran to get Kíli as Thorin came back into his bedroom, only to find the healer helping Myrrh into a tub, her legs covered in blood. Myrrh stared up at him as she held her empty womb, and Thorin wanted nothing more than to hold her.

"I'm taking the boys hunting."

She nodded slightly. He stepped closer and she shrank back against the healer. Thorin touched her cheek lightly and she wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing. He held her and realized how small she was against his body as he stroked her hair. His face was wet when he pulled away, and he didn't bother forcing a smile.

They knew this song and dance too well.

"I want you to rest, beloved." She nodded, more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her. "I love you." He held her hands gently and kissed them. "I love you, Myrrh."

Her voice was broken and hoarse, but she'd said the words enough for him to know them as her lips moved.

I love you, Thorin.

"Is Aunta sick?" Kíli's big eyes and still-clean face broke Thorin's silence and he turned away from the fallen log to face them both.

"Aunta is feeling very poorly, yes."

"Why?" Fíli's eyes were sharp and curious. "Is it the baby?"

Thorin felt his eyes grow moist, but didn't hide the tears.

"Yes. It's the baby."

"Is the baby well?"

He pulled them close as a sob broke free.

"No."

"When is the baby coming?" Kíli nestled into his uncle's arms. "It'll be better then."

Fíli leaned over to his brother and whispered, but Thorin could hear it as clearly as if he had shouted it.

"I don't think the baby's coming."

Kíli drew back, confused.

"Where did it go? Aunta has it."

Thorin held them close.

"Did Aunta ever tell you where your mother and father went?"

"To the Halls," Kíli answered promptly.

"Yes."

"Is… is that where the baby's gone?"

Thorin nodded, his throat dry.

"They always go without us." Kíli looked at Fíli. "You wouldn't go without me, would you?"

Fíli glanced at Thorin before answering.

"No. But I would go first. Just barely."

"But Aunta's not going with the baby," Kíli said, starting to look panicked. "She's staying. She's staying with us?"

Thorin nodded.

"She's staying with us."

Fíli looked up.

"Uncle?" Thorin shifted his gaze from the ground to the boy. "Will she get well?"

Thorin sighed heavily.

"Aunta has always wanted children. And… she has been told she must have a child."

"Because you are the king?" Kíli looked up at him.

"Yes."

"May we… call her matim?"

Thorin smiled and held them close, tears falling.

"I think she would love that."

"But I want to call Uncle papa." Kíli looked cross. "You promised you'd ask that, too." Fíli looked exasperated and a little embarrassed. Thorin smiled and cupped their faces.

"Oh, my sons." Their faces brightened a bit. "Matim cannot have a child. But she loves you more than anything. And she would be pleased to call you her sons, as would I."

Myrrh watched them walk out, tears in her eyes.

"They called me 'matim'…" Thorin nodded, closing the door, and getting into bed with her. "Did you tell them to…?"

"No. They wanted to. They call me 'papa' now."

Myrrh turned slightly towards him, wincing as she moved her hips.

"Thorin… I'm sorry I cannot give you an heir…"

He caressed her face gently, pulling himself closer to her.

"My beloved… you have weaned and raised two boys better than I ever could have alone." She smiled softly. "And you are my queen."

"But… you've not been coronated…"

Thorin smiled, running his hands along her body.

"I would rather be a pauper with your love than King Under the Mountain with all the gold in Middle Earth alone."

Myrrh kissed him softly, weak and worn.

"You'll never be without my love."

"I should pray not."

"Thorin… do you still want to love me…?"

"Oh my beloved…" Thorin kissed her lips deeply, holding her close. "There will never be a day I don't."