A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so, so much for your wonderful response to Chapter Thirteen! Sorry for the delayed posting of this chapter, but I had my first teaching placement last week so I didn't really have a second to myself. I was supposed to be working with sixth graders, but because of a staffing mix-up I ended up teaching Reception (British kindergarten), and this may have inspired some of Chapter Fourteen. (And seriously, you have no idea how many times I had to do Gandalf-style counting!) So yes, all ye with weak ovaries be warned – this chapter involves Fíli and Kíli getting fussed over by some very cute and chubby dwarflings! But it's come to my attention that I still managed to make at least five readers cry with the last chapter, so I thought I owed you all a bit of fluff…

"And visiting the infirmary was his idea?" Estel asked, with an eager smile.

"Aye, and we ended up staying the whole evening – until Grefur threw us out," Kíli replied, unable to stop the smile creeping onto his own lips.

Estel's grin only widened as he turned to Arwen, and the smile was spread around the company's fireside. Although Fíli's visit to the infirmary had been several days ago, this was the first opportunity Kíli had found to sit and discuss it with Estel and the Rivendell party. Arwen was sitting at Estel's side, obviously as keen as he was to hear the full story. Elladan and Elrohir were not too far away, and were being shown how to properly peel potatoes by Bifur. With Bofur still busy putting the finishing touches on Regin's crutches, Arwen had volunteered her brothers to help with dinner. Kíli suspected she would do anything to stop them sulking over Tauriel's imminent departure.

"How did the patients react to your visit?" Estel continued, and the bright look in his grey eyes implied he had a host of further questions.

"Everyone in the tent was fairly stunned by our arrival," Kíli mused. "But once they got over their shock they were very welcoming. Fíli let the patients do most of the talking. I think he was just happy to listen."

Estel nodded, exchanging another jubilant glance with Arwen.

Kíli let his thoughts wander over their visit to the infirmary, but he once again found them snagging on one niggling detail. "Fíli didn't like the patients and healers calling him 'your majesty'," he murmured, biting his lip at the prospect of dampening Estel's mood.

"He said so?" Estel asked, furrowing his brow.

"No," Kíli conceded. "But he did ask them to call him 'Fíli'."

Estel rocked back in his seat, his hand reaching up to scratch at his dark stubble. "Fíli's acceptance of his new role was never going to happen overnight," he said finally. "It will happen in stages as he takes the time to adjust. Visiting the infirmary was a very big step and I think he only wished to make himself a little more comfortable."

Kíli smiled; Estel was right, of course. He was about to comment, when Estel added: "But he may have also been putting himself on a par with his subjects, and that is a very admirable attribute in a king."

Relieved, Kíli decided he would encourage the thought. Their attentions then turned to the more pressing matter: dinner. Bifur had begun reprimanding Elrohir in sharp gutturals because he had peeled his potato so thickly there was barely any potato left. Kíli, Estel, and Arwen turned to watch, all wearing the same amused smirk.

"Evening, brother!"

Kíli's eyes darted away from Bifur and Elrohir when he heard Dwalin's greeting. He looked to his right and found Balin entering the hall through the east archway. Dwalin usually waited until Balin had reached the fireside before beginning baiting his brother about his involvement in Dáin's council meetings, but he seemed especially eager that evening. Balin approached the company's fire with a noticeably fatigued step, and Kíli realised he had been gone all afternoon.

The white-haired dwarf was suddenly stopped in his tracks as a tiny wooden wagon rolled into his path off its own accord. It was then followed by an equally tiny, red-haired dwarfling who quickly waddled up to retrieve his toy. Balin smiled down good-naturedly at him, and the dwarfling stared back for a few moments before grabbing hold of the wagon and toddling off with it. The arrival of the women and children a few days ago had put the whole camp in a good mood, but as the dwarfling disappeared and Balin arrived at the fireside, a look caught somewhere between weariness and annoyance returned to his face.

"Evening all," Balin said, giving Arwen a gracious nod and pointedly ignoring his younger brother.

"Do you mind if I ask what Dáin's councillors have done now?" Kíli said, before Dwalin could launch into his scripted antagonism.

Balin sat down next to Bofur with a sigh. For a moment Kíli thought he was going to deny there was a problem, but then he answered: "Let's just say they have changed their tactics considerably."

Kíli gave Estel a concerned sideways glance, and all around the fireside turned to Balin, waiting for him to elaborate.

"It's always in the councillors' best interests to know which way the wind is blowing," Balin said quietly. "And now they've decided that if they can't be on the new king's council, they can at least become his in-laws."

Kíli raised an eyebrow, uncertain what Balin was implying, but Estel made a strange coughing noise at his side.

"I've received five different proposals of marriage for Fíli this afternoon," Balin explained, his brown eyes fixed on Kíli. "The councillors are going to start falling over each other trying to offer him their daughters and granddaughters."

"What?!" Kíli spluttered in disbelief, his eyes widening.

Marriage proposals? Now? The thought had never occurred to him. And he supposed this was because the thought of a wife had never really occurred to either him or Fíli. When some of their friends started courting a few years ago, they had been too focused on their training to follow suit. And then Kíli realised, for the first time, that it probably also had something to do with the fact that Thorin had never married. He was well aware of the fact that he and Fíli had been modelling themselves on their uncle… and that thought suddenly made his chest ache as the throb of grief returned.

"I don't want those councillors or their kin anywhere near Fíli," Kíli growled, his fingers curling into fists. The idea of Fíli marrying a relative of Agrór or Nordul made him feel physically sick. With anger burning in the pit of his stomach, Kíli's gaze moved back to Balin and he sensed the older dwarf hadn't yet told him everything.

"I, er, may have received a couple of proposals for you as well, lad," Balin said reluctantly.

Kíli froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He sincerely hoped this was a joke, but Balin's contrite expression told him otherwise. What was wrong with these councillors? And where in Durin's name did they find the nerve to make such proposals after all they had done?

Suddenly Dwalin, who had so far been silent, was on his feet. "Right, I'm off to kill them all," he said matter-of-factly, seizing his war-hammer.

"Dwalin, sit down!" Balin snapped.

When Dwalin didn't react, Kíli called to him across the fire: "Dwalin, please don't bother… They're not worth the effort it would take to kill them." His fingers were still bunched into fists.

With a grunt of acquiescence, Dwalin dropped back down onto his bench by the fire, though he kept hold of his war-hammer.

"I don't want Fíli knowing about this," Kíli said firmly, and he looked to Estel, as if for confirmation that this was the wisest decision. Estel nodded, but didn't comment. "Marriage is… the last thing on his mind at the moment."

There was a murmur of agreement and Balin lowered his head in assent. Kíli sat back in his seat, his mind reeling as he tried to process this development. Of course, he was angry for Fíli's sake, and it had taken a good deal of strength to talk Dwalin out of his massacre instead of joining him, but then something else occurred to him and he slowly unfurled his fingers.

"They've been so quick to abandon Dáin," Kíli said, surprised that he actually found himself feeling sorry for his cousin. "They've shown no loyalty at all."

"These councillors are fickle. They will go wherever they think the power lies," Estel observed quietly, and was met with more whispered words of agreement.

Kíli's sadness for Dáin, bordering on pity, remained… but he also couldn't help the sly smile that was tugging at one corner of his mouth. If Dáin's councillors really were jumping ship, this could only mean that the people's acceptance of Fíli as their king was complete. They would have no other King Under the Mountain, and surely that was something to smile about.

Unlike their visit to the infirmary, Fíli and Kíli thought it would be best to give the women and children some forewarning before they came to the nursery. Although Grefur the Grouch was indeed formidable, the brothers sensed that the dwarrowdams would be a force to be reckoned with if they showed up unannounced. Within days of their arrival, the women had thrown themselves into helping with the clearing and rebuilding effort. Their first port of call, however, had been scolding their men for the way they had been eating for the past few months. It transpired that the majority of Dáin's men did not possess Bofur's culinary talents, and so their wives quickly set about teaching them a thing or two about cooking with limited supplies. After this had been dealt with, their attentions turned to longer term prospects and they had established a fully-functioning nursery in one of the smaller, newly-cleared out halls to the east of the Entrance Hall.

Visiting the nursery had also been Fíli's idea. Kíli had told him all about the dwarrowdams' wondrous arrival and how very little had been able to tarnish the camp's mood since. Fíli knew this was most likely due to the unexpected but most welcome addition of the dwarflings who had travelled with their mothers. He couldn't deny that he was eager to meet them; dwarf children were a real rarity and having so many in one place was almost unheard of. But Estel had offered a few words of caution, urging Fíli to recognise that his visit to the nursery wouldn't quite be the same as his visit to the infirmary. His audience was going to be very different: "Remember the naivety of innocence. These children will be curious and they will speak their minds. They will ask questions and you must be ready to answer them."

Fíli knew Estel was right to be wary, and he had spent the night before their visit playing out several ominous situations of confrontation in his head, and had therefore slept fitfully. But he was also no stranger to dealing with dwarflings. Back in the Blue Mountains, Fíli had always been the oldest child in their circle of family and friends, and had frequently found himself in charge of Kíli and Ori, and then Gimli too. He was sure nothing could match the terror of that trio - though he was soon to find out.

Arriving at the doors of the nursery, the sound of laughter, shrieking, and some wails filtered out into the corridor, and Fíli came to a stop, his fingers flexing around the hand-grips of his crutches. His palms were sweaty again and his stomach kept twisting in on itself. He swallowed to try and relieve his dry throat, then looked to Kíli, standing at his side. Kíli gave an encouraging nod then grinned, unable to mask his excitement. He had been giddy all morning. Dwalin, as usual, was standing at his other side, but this time they were also joined by Estel and Arwen. Having missed the dwarrowdams' arrival and Fíli's visit to the infirmary, they weren't going to miss this.

Dwalin and Estel carefully pushed the scarred wooden doors open, and Fíli slowly made his way into the hall. A hush immediately fell over the inhabitants and Fíli paused; this was the first time he had been confronted with a crowd of people since Thorin's funeral, and his heart began a frantic drumming against his ribs. The only sound was the crackle of the fires that burned at each end of the hall, and Fíli couldn't believe the silence of the children before him. He was met by two slightly untidy rows of dwarflings, standing before the cluster of dwarrowdams. The dwarflings all stared up at him with wide eyes, and there were many tiny mouths hanging open. Fíli could see that there were also other children, peering out at him shyly from behind their mothers' skirts, and those who were too young to stand were being balanced on hips.

And then, as with Thorin's funeral, a silent cue was given and the women all bowed, most bending their knees in a form of curtsy as they lowered their heads. The dwarflings, turning to look behind them, then followed their mothers' example. Their bows were far from synchronised, but they were done with great care that suggested a fair amount of practice had gone into them. Some dwarflings bowed more than once until they were satisfied that they had done it perfectly and others were showing their less confident brothers and sisters and friends how it should be done. Fíli wasn't surprised when he found himself grinning. The warmth that he had felt by the company's fire and in the infirmary was now magnified, radiating out of his chest to his entire body. He turned to Kíli, and Kíli grinned gleefully back at him. Dwalin, however, seemed thoroughly unnerved by this more than adorable display. Unsure of how to react, he clearly needed to go and kill something in the near future to make up for what he had just witnessed. But he would have to wait to collect his weapons; Fíli had told him quite sternly that under no circumstances should he come to the nursery armed.

After several minutes, the children finally exhausted themselves and Fíli moved to the chair already put out for him by the fire at one end of the hall. The two rows were dispersed as children returned to their mothers or followed Fíli to his chair. The dwarrowdams' eyes followed Fíli as he moved down the room, but it wasn't lost on anyone that their gazes also kept flitting to Estel and Arwen. The children gave these two visitors a noticeably wide berth, gawking at them with both interest and confusion. The women, however, were looking over with scrutiny and suspicion. They had been told, of course, that Thorin Oakenshield's heirs were entertaining a strange group of elves and a man in the Mountain, but most were yet to decide exactly how they felt about that.

Fíli had only just handed his crutches to Kíli when a rather chubby dwarfling with a mop of dark brown hair suddenly rushed up to him and started trying to climb into his lap. The child could have been little more than two years old, and this was most likely an instinctive reaction to seeing an adult sitting down; knees were meant to be sat on, no matter whose knee it was. Momentarily stunned, Fíli regained himself just in time to catch hold of the dwarfling before he fell back to the floor. Kíli dropped Fíli's crutches and grabbed one of the child's pudgy arms, helping him onto Fíli's knee.

"Tobi!"

A young, dark-haired dwarrowdam appeared from the back of the crowd of mothers and hurried forward looking flushed and flustered. A few strands of brown-black hair came loose from her braids and fell into her face. She hastily tried to tuck them behind her ears, but the strands kept getting caught in her silver piercings, and so she gave up and arrived in front of Fíli looking slightly bedraggled.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty!" she cried, and reached out to retrieve the escaped Tobi.

Tobi let out an angry squeal as her hand closed around his arm and recoiled into Fíli's chest, one plump fist grasping the fur of his coat.

"Oh, he's all right," Fíli said, smiling up at the frustrated dwarrowdam. "You can leave him be for a while."

The dwarrowdam studied Fíli with an expression he couldn't place for a few moments, but then, after a nod of consent, she reluctantly retreated back into the crowd of women. Fíli noted that the look in her eyes as she fixed Tobi with a hard stare told the little dwarfling just how much trouble he was going to be in later. Tobi, however, appeared unfazed and stared up at Fíli, transfixed, with enormous brown eyes. He then began swatting at one of Fíli's moustache braids like a cat enchanted by a piece of string, and Fíli realised what had made Tobi's eyes so wide. But he quickly lost interest and then, jamming a thumb in his mouth, snuggled into the fur of Fíli's coat.

Keeping Tobi balanced on his knee with an arm wrapped around his back, Fíli turned to Kíli, expecting to receive another wide grin, but instead found his brother facing a similar conundrum. An impossibly small dwarfling with tiny curls of red hair bouncing about her face was standing in front of Kíli with her arms raised above her head, desperate to be picked up. She rocked up onto her tiptoes and reached for Kíli. Kíli scanned the crowd of dwarrowdams, waiting for a mother to protest, but when no protest came, he eagerly scooped the dwarfling up into his arms, balancing her on his hip. He turned to Fíli then and the expected grin appeared. The little red-haired child leant her head against Kíli's chest and her fingers curled around the edge of his coat. She studied Fíli with bright blue eyes, barely blinking.

"And what's your name?" Kíli asked, peering down at her.

"Elís."

The answer didn't come from Elís herself, but from the crowd of women. Fíli turned away from Kíli to see that a young dwarrowdam had stepped forward, shadowed by two others who wore expressions of concern. She was undoubtedly Elís' mother; she had her daughter's fiery red hair and blue eyes. Fíli wondered why she hadn't come forward before, and then he realised she was wearing black. Her face was worryingly pale and one of the dwarrowdams at her side had put a hand on her shoulder.

"You look a little like her father," she said quietly to Kíli, her voice cracking.

Kíli stared at her and Fíli saw the moment when realisation dawned on his face. Elís had not been able to run to her father like the other children when she arrived in Erebor. Kíli held her a little tighter, screwing up his eyes as he rested his chin on her soft, red hair. Fíli knew what was going through his brother's mind and it made a lump rise in his throat. Just like Kíli, Elís would never remember her father.

Fíli tore his eyes away from Kíli and turned to Elís' mother. He found himself looking at a mirror for his grief and his heart ached for her. The pain of losing Thorin flared up in his chest, but he fought through the burning and the sickness in his stomach to meet this young dwarrowdam's gaze. Their blue eyes locked onto each other for a moment, and Fíli hoped he managed to communicate just how sorry he was for her loss. He then scanned the group of women and their children, knowing he should say something to them. As they had been united in Erebor, they were also united in grief and mourning… and they needed their king.

Tobi had fallen asleep in his lap, and Fíli shifted him a little closer to his chest, being careful not to wake him. He then turned back to the crowd. Opening his mouth, he barely had time to finish his first word before another, slightly shrill voice cut across him: "What's wrong with your leg?"

Fíli's attentions moved away from the dwarrowdams to the collection of dwarflings that had assembled before his chair. They were sitting in front of him with their legs crossed, all staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes. Fíli wasn't sure which child had asked the question, and so his eyes moved over all of them as he managed a smile, trying to push his black thoughts away.

"I broke it," he answered softly. "That's why I've got all these bandages. They're going to help it get better."

"I broked my arm last year!" a tawny-haired dwarfling shouted out, rising onto his knees and beaming at Fíli.

"Oh no, how did you break your arm?" Fíli asked, pretending to look shocked.

"I climbed onto the table to steal a scone when Mama wasn't looking and I fell off!" the dwarfling replied. "But that's a secret!"

"In that case, I promise I won't tell anyone," Fíli grinned, and there was a titter from the dwarrowdams.

Fíli stole a glance at Kíli. He was gently rocking Elís and murmuring something into her hair. She had relaxed her grip on his coat and, although her blue eyes were still open, they were clouded and sleepy. Fíli knew he and Kíli would have a few things to talk about when they returned to their room.

"Mister King!"

Fíli's eyes darted away from Kíli as his heart jolted. Mister King. It wasn't exactly an official title… But it was the first time he had been addressed with 'King', and his stomach clenched in protest. His gaze moved to Estel, who had clearly expected his anxiety and met him with a smile of encouragement. Sucking in a deep breath, Fíli searched out the source of the call, and realised it had come from the tiniest dwarfling of the group who was sitting almost at his boots. He leaned forward to see him, careful to keep a firm hold of the sleeping Tobi and stop him slipping from his knee.

Before Fíli could respond, the child sitting behind the miniscule dwarfling gave his shoulder a bump. She was clearly the oldest child of the group and there were the dark beginnings of a beard appearing at her temples. "What did I tell you, Hàri? It's 'your majesty', not 'Mister King'!"

Hàri's lip began to tremble and he looked up at Fíli with watery eyes, obviously terrified of the wrath his mistake would incur. But Fíli inhaled deeply and smiled down at him. "It's all right, Hàri," he whispered. "I also answer to 'Mister King'… What can I do for you?"

"How… How did…" Hàri struggled with his words, his brow furrowed in concentration. "How did… you hurted your leg?"

Fíli froze. He knew this question was coming. He had lain awake in the early hours of that morning, endlessly going over scenarios involving such a question… but he still wasn't sure how to answer.

"My da says you fought the Pale Orc!" came a shout from a black-haired dwarfling.

"Mikil!" A dwarrowdam stepped forward to admonish her son with a stern glare.

Mikil only stared down his mother, then turned back to Fíli. "Is it true? …Is it true you killed him?"

Fíli's heart was rampaging against his ribs and he fought to keep his mind in the room, away from the battlefield, but he could feel himself beginning to sweat. And then Kíli moved to his side. Keeping hold of Elís with one hand, he placed the other on Fíli's shoulder, just as he had done in the infirmary. Feeling his body slowly relax under his brother's hand, Fíli turned his attention to Mikil, who was studying him with nothing more than innocent curiosity. Mikil was too young to think that war was anything but a game to be played, like any other. And so Fíli, after swallowing to prevent his voice from cracking, answered him honestly: "Your da is right… and it is true."

Mikil's eyes lit up. He turned to the dwarfling sitting at his side and the two began to whisper excitedly.

"You killed the Pale Orc even though you broked your leg?" the tawny dwarfling who had broken his arm asked eagerly.

Fíli nodded, giving the dwarfling a small smile.

"Then you're a hero!" the dwarfling proclaimed assuredly. "Mama says it's heroes who keep fighting even when they're hurt!"

Fíli had no idea how to reply. His eyes began to sting and he had to blink back the tears as the dwarflings before him all cried out their agreement and nodded vigorously. They were staring at him with even more reverence than before and the warmth Fíli had felt in his chest on entering the nursery returned. Peering around at the children, he beamed. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to thank them enough.

The children were permitted another twenty minutes of questions before their mothers intervened and sent them off to other tasks. Fíli wondered if it was simply maternal intuition, but they seemed to sense when he was beginning to tire. Of course, he would have happily braved another few hours of questioning, for as long as the dwarflings remained curious, but he couldn't deny he was slightly relieved when the tiny crowd before him was dispersed. His voice had grown hoarse from talking and there was a tell-tale throbbing just above his right eye which foreshadowed a headache that only sleep could cure. Yet, this couldn't dampen his spirits and he now found himself partaking in the camp's general good mood created by the dwarrowdams and their children.

With Tobi still asleep in his lap, Fíli turned to see Kíli carefully transferring Elís to her mother's waiting arms. The little dwarfling stirred as her head met her mother's shoulder, but didn't wake. Kíli began murmuring to the red-haired dwarrowdam, his dark brow furrowed, and he was speaking so softly that Fíli could barely make out his words. It was then that Fíli realised just how proud of his little brother he was… and how much Kíli had grown up since they left the Blue Mountains. Although it earned him a painful throb in his chest, at that moment Fíli still wished that Thorin could see Kíli now. His gaze moved away to Estel and Arwen, who had also been watching Kíli. Estel caught his eye and gave him a knowing smile.

Fíli turned back to face the group of women and almost jumped out of his skin. The young, dark-haired dwarrowdam who had unsuccessfully tried to retrieve Tobi earlier was standing right in front of him. On seeing Fíli's surprise, her face coloured considerably, darkening the brown freckles on her cheeks. Fíli regained himself and smiled up at her, gently rubbing Tobi's shoulder to rouse him. The tubby dwarfling wriggled in Fíli's lap and gave a soft yawn. He peered up at Fíli with a sleepy smile, but as soon as he felt someone else begin to reach for him he let out a shriek.

"No!"

"That's the only word he knows," the dwarrowdam sighed, trying to grab Tobi's hands so he couldn't latch onto Fíli's coat.

"Come now, Tobi. Be a good lad and go with your mother," Fíli said, ruffling Tobi's mop of dark brown hair. Tobi stopped struggling and blinked up at Fíli. Fíli hadn't been aware until that moment that a two-year-old could raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm not his mother," the dwarrowdam explained, seizing this moment of Tobi's distraction to heave him into her arms. "He's my nephew. And my sister's going to have my beard!"

"I think you were very well-behaved, weren't you, Tobi?" Fíli said, winking at the chubby dwarfling.

"Don't you encourage him!" the dwarrowdam grinned.

But then she froze, her cheeks going even redder, and Fíli realised she thought she had spoken out of turn. He hated the idea that anyone would be afraid to speak to him normally – as an equal – but he wasn't sure what to say to rectify this new and unnerving situation.

"Right, I need to get you back to your ma and da in the infirmary, don't I?" the dwarrowdam spoke to Tobi, avoiding Fíli's eye. "Wave goodbye, Tobi."

Tobi barely had time to raise a hand before the dwarrowdam set off back down the hall to the door, as if she couldn't wait to get away. Fíli stared after her, only wishing he could have thought of something to say to ease her embarrassment. A few moments after she and Tobi had disappeared from the room, he turned to find Kíli grinning slyly at him. It was a look he hadn't seen in a long time.

"What?" Fíli sighed.

Kíli raised a suggestive eyebrow. Fíli was about snap back with a less-than-witty retort when two dwarrowdams approached his chair, one of them holding a large wicker basket.

"Excuse me, you majesty," the taller of the two murmured. "We just wanted to give you this." She indicated the basket her companion was holding. "It's not much… Just a few things we've managed to cobble together between us all."

"For you and your company," the dwarrowdam holding the basket explained, looking from Fíli to Kíli, who had come to his side. "There's herbs and spices, some food for your fire, blankets, cloth, and good needles and thread too."

The shorter dwarrowdam held the basket out for Kíli and he took it with a grateful smile. The two brothers were stunned into silence for a moment, but then Fíli said: "Thank you… that's very kind of you all. Please make sure you thank everyone who has spared what they can."

"We will… But it's us who should be thanking you," one dwarrowdam said quietly, with a smile.

"This is the least we could do to say thank you for all you've done," the other agreed. "To say thank you for bringing us here… For letting us come home."

Fíli gritted his teeth to stop them from chattering as the cold wind whipped at his face, making the beads of his moustache braids bump against his chin. Thranduil was late. Fíli supposed that after the Elvenking's dramatically tardy arrival at Thorin's funeral, he shouldn't have expected anything else. They were all gathered outside the Front Gate, waiting to farewell the elves of Mirkwood and hand over their requested payment. There had been much dispute over how much gold should be paid in total and Thranduil, despite his endless complaining about the delays, rejected the dwarves' compromises several times. Eventually Bard intervened and offered Thranduil the emeralds of Girion on top of the proposed amount of gold, and the matter was settled.

Fíli was at the centre of the assembled party, a thick, grey fur overcoat wrapped around his shoulders. He was flanked by Kíli on one side and Dwalin and Balin on the other. Dàin stood off to his left, speaking quietly to the two dwarves who were holding Thranduil's chest of gold. This was the first time Fíli had seen his cousin since Thorin's funeral, and although Dàin was pleasant enough to him, he still carried a strange air of disappointment… but Fíli guessed he understood why. What he really couldn't fathom was the bizarre behaviour of the councillors who were standing behind Dàin. They kept looking over at him eagerly... almost expectantly. What was worse was that they kept smiling – an action which clearly didn't suit their usually dour faces and made their expressions beyond unnerving. They were obviously up to something. He would have to ask Kíli and Balin about it.

Gandalf, Bilbo, and the rest of the company were standing to Fíli's right. Gandalf also kept smiling over at him, but it was a warm, good-natured smile which Fíli knew to be completely genuine. The wizard's blue eyes were alight with a knowing twinkle and Fíli realised he couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to Gandalf. Something he would have to rectify in the near future. Standing behind the company were Estel, Arwen, Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas. Legolas had appeared in the Entrance Hall that morning, having already said his farewells. Fíli gathered that the Elven prince's early arrival had something to do with another argument with his father, and a threat that if he didn't leave at that instant he would either be entirely disowned or tied to a horse and dragged back to Mirkwood. Legolas and Estel were now sharing another room on the guard corridor which Estel, Kíli, and the twins had been clearing out all week in preparation for the arrival of Erebor's latest Elven lodger.

"Are you all right?" Kíli murmured, glancing across at Fíli.

After this prolonged period of waiting, Fíli's arms were beginning to ache and the cold meant he could no longer feel his fingers wrapped around the hand-grips of his crutches. At least it's not snowing, Fíli thought as he looked back at Kíli. "I'm fine," he whispered.

"I could get you a chair?" Kíli offered.

Fíli shook his head. He was determined to farewell Thranduil standing on his own two feet, albeit with the support of his crutches. Maybe it was the memory of all those wretched days he had spent consumed with grief and confined to his bed that had made him self-conscious, but Fíli knew part of him really didn't want to show any weakness in front of Dàin, his councillors, or the Elvenking himself. With this thought, he turned his eyes back to the colourless horizon and his heart jolted. His gaze had been wandering around those gathered at the Front Gate for so long that he hadn't realised the tents of Thranduil's camp across the river had vanished, leaving only a few black wisps of smoke rising from extinguished fires. The Elvenking was finally on the move, and Fíli could just make out the brown and green blur of his army moving along the river, towards the Front Gate.

An age seemed to pass, but finally Thranduil came into view, sitting astride his enormous elk whilst his men marched on foot behind him. His army came to a stop and the Elvenking let his elk take a few graceful strides closer to the group assembled before the Gate. Fíli wondered if he was going to dismount, but Thraduil stayed put, his intense green gaze moving slowly over every member of the farewell party… until his eyes came to rest on Legolas and his gaze hardened into a glare. Fíli dared to look behind him to watch for Legolas's reaction. The prince was standing a little behind Estel, as if for protection, but he still stared back at his father without flinching. It was then that Dwalin let out an impatient cough.

Thranduil's eyes snapped back to the dwarves directly in front of him. "You have the payment I requested?" he asked, his voice deep and cold.

Fíli and Dàin nodded simultaneously to the two dwarves holding the chest and they reluctantly brought it forward. Without signal from Thranduil, two elves broke from the ranks behind him and collected the chest, carrying it between them.

Fíli then took a step forward and straightened up, meeting Thranduil's gaze. Inhaling deeply and feeling his heart pounding in his chest, he spoke clearly and loudly over the wind: "We hope this is a worthy token of our appreciation for the help offered by the forces of Mirkwood in our time of need. My kin and I are eternally grateful for your support and your part in the reclaiming of our homeland."

Fíli paused to take a breath, attempting to ignore Thranduil's look of suspicion. He had been rehearsing this speech all morning, reciting it to both Kíli and Estel, and was now trying to remember all the suggested changes… but his mind threatened to draw a blank.

"We wish you all a safe return journey to your own lands," Fíli continued, managing a smile, which only seemed to confuse Thranduil more. "And should you ever need our help, we will always be willing to return the favour. From this day forward, I hope we can maintain a fruitful and prosperous alliance between Erebor and the Woodland Realm."

Fíli finished, sucking in a deep breath, beyond relieved that he hadn't stumbled over his words. Despite the cold, he could feel beads of sweat forming at his temples. His blue eyes were fixed on Thranduil for his reaction, and his heart continued its manic gallop inside his chest.

Thranduil tilted his head to the side as he studied Fíli, and when he spoke his voice was softer, almost amused: "You are a very strange dwarf, Fíli Oakenshield."

Fíli's heart dropped into his stomach. Fíli Oakenshield? He stared at Thranduil with wide eyes, and all he could hear was wind roaring in his ears… and then Thorin's voice came to him: "The shield… Don't let them bury me with it… It's yours now…" Fíli dragged his mind away from the battlefield, back to the present, and the tension hit him like a collapsing mine-shaft. Kíli and Dwalin were glaring at Thranduil, and Fíli had never seen his brother so livid. This sparked the realisation that although this was the first time Fíli had heard his epithet, it wasn't new to Kíli. Fighting to keep his thoughts from growing dark, Fíli still found his mind retreating back into the Mountain, to Thrór's bedchamber, where Thorin's oak shield lay on a piece of folded cloth in the corner of the room. Gritting his teeth, Fíli once again tore his attentions back to the present and peered up at Thranduil, trying to relax his expression. The Elvenking was clearly aware of his faux-pas, but his face remained stoical. Fíli did note, however, that his eyes were not as cold as before.

"I shall look forward to your envoys," Thranduil said, and, surprisingly, if there was any irony in his voice, Fíli couldn't detect it.

Barely daring to breathe, he waited to see if Thranduil would continue, but after one long moment, the Elvenking simply turned away, pulling on his elk's reins to steer it towards the western trail. Everyone gathered before the Front Gate watched in silence as Thranduil and his army slowly disappeared over the brow of the slope to the right of the Mountain. Fíli stared after them, knowing it was Kíli's hand that had come to rest on his shoulder, and he heard only two words resounding in his head… Fíli Oakenshield.

As the elves of Mirkwood began their journey home, passing swiftly through the snow-covered, but still scorched lands of Smaug's desolation, they remained unaware that they were being watched from a clump of blackened trees. Four ponies waited there, and they belonged to Bombur, Nori, Glóin, and Dís, daughter of Thràin.

A/N: This chapter just refused to end… sorry about that! Now, Dís is a new character for me and as I know so many of you are excited for her arrival, I don't want to disappoint. So please do send me your Dís headcanons and let me know if there's anyone in particular you'd like her to interact with apart from her boys!