The morning of the funeral found the girls sitting in the throne room as they waited for their family to join them. Thorin and Bilbo were the first to arrive, dressed in dwarvish robes of mourning. Embroidered onto the robes were funeral vows in Khuzdul, the gold thread standing out against the black garments.

The girls were sitting in Thorin and Bilbo's thrones, conversing quietly. Mithril sat in Thorin's, her legs dangling high above the floor, and Minriel sat in Bilbo's throne. Somewhere in the back of Bilbo's mind he was amused at the fact that she was already tall enough to sit comfortably in it. As the husbands entered the throne room the cousins turned to them, their eyes red rimmed.

"I don't understand," Minriel stated. "Why did Uncle Bard die?"

Bilbo sighed. It was a question she had been asking continuously over the past couple of days, and despite the number of times the company had explained things to her, the girl still didn't understand.

"He was old," Thorin answered. "He died of old age."

Bilbo frowned; his husband's tone was perhaps harsher than he would have liked, but he allowed Thorin to slip by. He knew that although Thorin would never admit it, he had grown fond of Bard over the years.

Minriel's frown grew deeper. "How?" she asked. "How do you die of that? How do you grow old? I don't understand!"

Bilbo wasn't sure how to answer. Minriel's family consisted primarily of elves and dwarves, both of which aged at a much slower rate than men and hobbits. With the exception of the men of Dale, the only man she knew was her father, who was of the Dúnedain and thus slow in aging. As a result, the girl simply couldn't grasp the concept of deterioration by age.

Bilbo doubted his own lifespan helped her at all. He knew that his lifespan was very similar to Bard's; it was something he worried about constantly, but for some reason his hair had not yet begun to grey, and no wrinkles coated his face. Though the suspension of his youth would only add to Minriel's confusion over the concept of old age, he couldn't say he objected to his vitality.

"It just happens," Mithril told her cousin. She shrugged nonchalantly, but there were tears in her eyes. "There's nothing you can do about it."

There was a certain bitter note to her voice at those last words, Bilbo noted. It was almost as if she were trying to convince herself of that fact. Bilbo knew his daughter was intensely protective of her family; she spent her days watching her cousins' every move like a hawk. Though Mithril knew she could not have prolonged Bard's life, Bilbo suspected that she still felt that she should have done something.

"How are you holding up?" asked Thorin. His question was phrased to both girls, but Bilbo noticed that Thorin unconsciously looked solely to Mithril as he spoke. It was something he did often, though the dwarf didn't seem aware of it.

"I'm fine," Minriel promised.

Thorin nodded, sensing that she spoke the truth; indeed, although she had been crying, and was both upset and confused over the loss of her uncle, she didn't hold that look in her eyes that spoke of the shock of one's first experience with death. Almost as though she was used to its bleak blackness. Thorin knew this was preposterous; what death had his niece experienced in her short life?

"Mithril?" he asked. His blue eyed gaze went to his daughter, and she nodded silently. Still, there were tears in her eyes, and Thorin could read her expression well enough to know that she wasn't telling the truth. He opened his arms and both girls, Minriel with the smallest hesitance, came to him for a hug.

Before he could say anything else the rest of the company began to enter the throne room, and Dis clapped her hands.

"Let's get a move on," she called.

Obediently her family began to file out of the castle.

The funeral was an emotional mess. All of Dale was there, its citizens crowded into the town square and lining the streets to say their last farewells to their king. They joined Mithril and Minriel in their tears, and grievous wails rose into the sky. Thranduil attended as well, and though the elven king remained as placid as ever, there was a hint of sorrow in his eyes.

Bard lay on a pyre at the center of the square, hair neatly combed and his bow and sword in his hands. He was dressed not in his finest attire, as was customary, but in pink dyed robes from the great prank war of the eastern lands. A few specks of glitter still stuck to the garments, and Bilbo couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

It was the first meeting of the three kingdoms after the great prank war. They met once a year to ensure that the old treaties and trade arrangements were still satisfactory for all involved. Of course if there was an issue an emergency meeting could be called in the interval, but as of yet none had ever been requested.

The meeting took place, as always, in Dale. Situated between Erebor and Mirkwood, the city of men was neutral for both dwarves and elves, and Bilbo doubted that the meetings would ever be held anywhere else. He and Thorin had already been led to the chambers in which the meeting was to take place; a wide room with stained glass windows that did odd things to the light that shone on the stone table within. There Thranduil was already seated, and he exchanged respectful nods with Thorin and Bilbo as they took their seats.

Bilbo set to trying to quiet the impatient tapping of Thorin's fingers, but it was clear that wasn't going to happen. To the side one of Thranduil's eyebrows twitched slightly in amusement, but the elven king wisely chose not to comment.

Bilbo all but sighed in relief as the doors opened. The tension in the room was palpable, and he didn't see Thorin and Thranduil sitting in silence for much longer. Bard strode into the room, and Bilbo's mouth dropped open.

Accentuated by his shit-eating grin, the lord of Dale was clothed in the pink dyed robes that Sigrid and Tilda had sabotaged during the great prank war. Bilbo knew Bard had access to other garments; new attire would have been arranged for him immediately after the prank. Yet Bard had chosen to wear those clothes, which were still covered in Gandalf's glittering substance. He looked like- what he looked like Bilbo had no idea.

Bard didn't so much as pause at the flabbergasted looks on his guests'faces. He took his seat at the table, set down the files he had brought with him, and laced his fingers together, shoving the smirk off his face and replacing it with a look of intense seriousness.

"Pleasant day,"he commented airily. "Now, shall we start with-"

Bilbo couldn't help it; he burst into laughter. Doubled over in his seat, his guffaws had only deepened as he'd looked again at Bard. The king somehow managed to maintain his serious expression, and soon Thorin was roaring as well. Even Thranduil descended into snickers, and at last Bard allowed himself to break into laughter.

For once, the meeting between the eastern kingdoms had been almost pleasant.

Bilbo rubbed tears from his eyes and backed away from the pyre, taking Thorin's hand in his. Thorin squeezed comfortingly, and Bilbo allowed himself to lean ever so slightly against his husband. In front of the pair, Minriel and Mithril were standing side by side, their hands clenched into the others' as tears streamed silently down their faces. As Bard's son Bain, the new king of Dale, began his father's eulogy Mithril burst into sobs. Bilbo's heart clenched, but he held back from drawing her to him in a hug as he watched Minriel do just that. The girls clasped the other to them, and Bilbo studied them curiously. Despite her tears Mithril was still doing her best to part comfort with her hug, but Bilbo sensed that Minriel didn't need it quite so much. Minriel was crying as well, but not with the ferocity with which Mithril was. She too sought to give her older cousin comfort with her embrace, and Bilbo sighed.

The feast after the funeral was a somber affair, devoid of laughter. The only sound in the great dining hall of Dale's castle was the clinking of silverware and the occasional sob. Bilbo knew Bard wouldn't have wanted that, and to his relief Bofur seemed to have realized this too. The goofy dwarf was soon belting out an improvised song from atop a table, and soon many of the assembled mourners were stamping along to the tune.

Mithril and Minriel seized the hands of Brand, Bain's little son, and the trio skipped and twirled through the dining hall. The child, who had spent the day pale faced with uncertainty at the somber occasion, descended into lighthearted giggles, content in his cousins' arms. Soon the men and women of Dale were taking to the floor to dance, and Kili and Tauriel were the first of the company to join. With a sigh Thorin allowed Bilbo to drag him to his feet, imagining Bard laughing at him from Valinor.

It was late by the time the company returned to Erebor, and no one commented as Mithril and Minriel slipped into Mithril's room. They knew that on this occasion, the girls required the presence of the other beside them.

In the following weeks Bilbo could tell something was on Minriel's mind. He didn't press her though, and soon enough she came to him, a nervous look on her face.

"I want to visit Great-Grandmother Galadriel again," she told him. "I know we just got back, but-"

Bilbo nodded. "I know," he answered her. "I understand. I'll make the arrangements."

He was rewarded with a hug that was teary eyed from joy and relief, and Bilbo happily returned it.

Thorin was spending his morning with Mithril, sitting on her bed and combing her curly hair. Suddenly Minriel bounded in and gave her cousin a single nod that caused Mithril to grin. Thorin's eyes narrowed.

"Bilbo!" he called.

"Yes dear?"

Bilbo leaned casually in the doorway, smirking at his husband's raised eyebrow. Thorin glowered at him, pointing with one finger to the girls who were now whispering a few feet away.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

Bilbo sighed. "Minriel would like to visit her great-grandmother again," he stated.

Thorin frowned. "She just got back from visiting her!"

"And was greeted by the death of her uncle," Bilbo reminded him. "I think it's a perfectly reasonable request."

Thorin ground his teeth. "Fine," he growled. "But Mithril stays in Erebor."

He was met with a chorus of "No!"

Thorin threw up his hands as he stood. "I've barely seen my daughter at all over the past year," he yelled. "You are hogging her! Share her! Give me my daughter back!" As he spoke he grabbed Mithril and held her to him in a still slightly playful gesture, and Mithril squealed.

"I'm going with Miny!" she objected. To the side Minriel nodded, and Bilbo aimed one of his deadliest glares at his husband.

"Do you really think she'll stay?" he asked. "She'll just sneak out after us."

Thorin scowled. "No, she won't," he asserted.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "That girl can sneak past anything," he stated. "And I don't think they should be parted right now."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "They need to learn how to function separately," he retorted. "This shall be their first practice. I need my daughter here, with me."

Bilbo sighed, taking note of the pleading look in Thorin's eyes. Bard's death had reminded Thorin of the mortality of his husband, and Bilbo had felt Thorin's eyes on him over the past weeks.

The concerns in the dwarf's mind had also brought up the question of Mithril's mortality. She was half dwarf and half hobbit, the first of her kind. No one knew which race's lifespan she would adopt, and Thorin was beginning to realize that he might in fact outlive his daughter. Combined with the hardly safe journey to Lothlórien and Rivendell, he feared their final parting might come sooner than he expected. No, Bilbo was surprised Thorin had even let Mithril out of his sight over the past weeks.

"Fine," he acquiesced.

"Da!"

"Uncle!"

Bilbo didn't allow himself to meet the heartbreaking gazes of the girls as he responded. "He has a point," he admitted. "You need to learn how to get along without the other, and Thorin does have a right to spend time with you." The last words were aimed primarily at Mithril.

"Then he can come with us," objected Mithril.

Her papa snorted in her ear, ignoring Bilbo's glare. The husbands put up with over an hour of objections from the girls, and then fled to their office, for once eager to do some paperwork. By the time dinner had come around the entire company had heard, and Thorin and Bilbo shifted under the intensity of the many glares aimed at them throughout the meal.

A month later Bilbo, Minriel, and Tauriel departed for Lothlórien, accompanied by a small entourage of dwarven guards. While Bilbo knew that they would- as always- refuse to enter the golden forest, Thorin still demanded he bring them.

Mithril attempted to sneak out of the castle and meet the company at the entrance to the mountain, but had been caught by the guards outside the castle gate. She had then been confined to her room, and somehow, the next anyone saw of her she was halfway through Erebor.

A guard was placed outside her door, but she still managed to break loose. As she was brought back to the castle for the third time around midday Thorin sighed and brought her into his office with her. He sat her in Bilbo's chair while he worked, but when he glanced up a few minutes later to check on her he found that she had disappeared.

He cursed and left the room quickly. He found Mithril making her way through the halls, a bag filled with traveling supplies slung over her shoulder. Thorin frowned, knowing that someone had helped her to pack-who that was he would work out later. Several more times he brought her back to his office, and even tried locking the door while he worked. However, each time he turned his attention to his papers Mithril would slip away on silent feet, and Thorin would have to chase her through the castle.

At last he gave up on his work. Retreating to his office with her, he put away his papers and resorted to staring at her. Mithril glared back, her arms crossed and lips pouted, and Thorin knew that if he glanced away for so much as a second she would be gone. So, when Dis came to collect them for dinner several hours later, she found the father and daughter having a silent glaring contest.

Mithril skipped dinner, retiring to her room. At this point even she had to acknowledge that Minriel was too far away for her to chase after, and she decided to make her displeasure at being left behind quite clear. She locked the door behind her and flung herself into bed, ignoring each member of her family as they pleaded with her to come to dinner from the other side of the door.

"Mithril," called Thorin. "It's Papa; open up."

Mithril scowled at the wall. "No!" she shouted. "Go away!"

"Mithril please," Thorin pleaded. "At least eat supper. Bombur's made your favorite meal."

"I'm not hungry," came the angry retort.

Thorin sighed and retreated, knowing that when a hobbit- even a half hobbit- refused food that it was best to leave them alone. He returned often, but each time Mithril refused to see him. The only one she would allow into her room was Bifur, the old dwarf bringing her a tray laden with all her favorite food. When Bifur finally left her, Thorin was relieved to see the tray bare.

"This is not how I was planning this to go," he commented grumpily. "We were supposed to be having father-daughter time."

Bifur rolled his eyes. "Did you really think keeping her from Minriel would end well for you? That girl would take on an army of orcs singlehandedly to get to her cousin."

Thorin ground his teeth, but didn't respond. He knew what Bifur said was true, and it only aggravated the worries that had been growing in him as of late.

It was a week before Mithril finally emerged from her room. She stomped down to breakfast and planted herself at the table, sitting as far away from her father as she could. Dis and Bifur neatly arranged themselves on either side of her, Fili and Kili on either side of them.

Fili sighed. He knew well how Mithril felt; he shared the same protective instincts for Kili that Mithril held for Minriel. In many ways he felt that the girl strongly resembled himself, albeit with larger, hairier feet, and of course there was the whole gender thing.

No one dared comment, and there was a distinct tension in the air as the assembled family began to eat. Bombur and his wife Heathrey exchanged glances, but the dwarf woman merely shook her head for him to keep quiet. The tension in the air only grew as Mithril turned to glare at Thorin.

Thorin sighed. "Mithril," he began. "What can I do to make you forgive me? I wanted us to spend time together, but I've not seen you all week. How do I make this right?"

Mithril's scowl deepened, and for a minute it seemed that she would either not respond or respond cruelly. Finally she decided on something better, for a gleam that Thorin had come to fear shone in her eyes.

"A tea party," she demanded. "I want a tea party."

Thorin nodded reluctantly. While he had never been a fan of sitting around sipping at cups of tea while making small talk, he was desperate to get back on his daughter's good graces. He would have done a song and dance for Thranduil at that point if she had asked.

Beside Mithril, Dis nodded approvingly. She had been one of the strongest advocators for the girls in the days leading up to Minriel's departure from the mountain, and her glare over the past week had caused Thorin to cower away and hide in his chambers.

"You will all be there," Dis added. "Every single one of you. And the usual rules apply.

"What rules are those?" asked Oin.

Dis smiled cruelly. "Dresses are mandatory."

They were instantly met with a steam of objections, and Mithril giggled. The two exchanged grins, and Dis was happy to see some glee returning to her niece's eyes.

She glanced around the table. The majority of the company was protesting vehemently, and several members were turning rather unappealing colors in the faces. The only ones not objecting were Thorin, Bifur, and Dwalin. Thorin's face had taken on a pained expression, but with reluctance he gave his daughter a short nod, knowing that it was the only thing that would please her. Bifur, having sat through a great deal of tea parties over the past twenty-two years, no longer cared about the dress code.

Dwalin let out a nonchalant shrug. "Alright," he agreed. "I don't care. What sizes have you got lass?"

An hour later all members of the royal family reported to the family room for the tea party. There were of course many family rooms, but over the years they had found themselves more often than not inhabiting the red and yellow room where Bilbo had spent his first days in Erebor. His first days unhindered by a mad king, of course.

Each wore dresses that Dis and Heathrey had supplied them, doing their best to work out the best way to move in the flowing garments. The majority of them seemed to be trying to hide behind someone else, not wanting to be seen should someone come through the door. Dori seemed to have decided that if they were all going to be in dresses, they might as well look good, and was giving the company fashion advice.

"No Bofur. That's not an appealing color on you. You must pick something else."

Bofur sighed as he glanced down at the pale green dress he'd chosen. Relatively easy to hike up should he need to run, it had seemed the best choice.

"I don't really think that matters much," he stated. "No dress is appealing on me, but I'm still wearing one."

Dori scowled, but continued making his way around the room. As he reached his two brothers he all but screeched. Nori had decided to see if dresses could be used to his advantage in thievery, and Ori had become his unfortunate guinea pig. Sitting at the head of the little table set up in the center of the room, Mithril giggled.

A moment later Dis entered, shoving before her a very sour faced Thorin. Clad in a pink dress complete with little frills, the mountain king had been given no chose in his attire of the most obnoxious dress in Erebor. His cheeks reddened a touch as the door closed behind him, but he simply raised his chin and took his place beside his daughter at the table, forcing a pleasant smile to his face.

"Pass the tea please," he asked her.

Mithril did so, making no attempt to hide her giggles, and the rest of the company filed into their chairs. The ladies were very amused to see their men fidget throughout the tea party. The only ones who seemed at ease were Bifur and Dwalin; Bifur by now being used to such attire, and Dwalin simply not caring. He could, he decided, wear a dress without fear of losing his status as a dwarven warrior. Anyone who objected would get his axe in their ass.

Reluctantly the company settled down for the tea party, having accepted their gowns. Mithril seemed to forgive Thorin for separating her and Minriel, for soon she had crawled into his lap and was giggling with as much cheer as always. Thorin decided that however much he despised the dress Dis had forced him into, it was worth wearing ten times over to make his daughter happy.

Elrond was surprised to hear the loud stomping of the dwarven caravan through the streets of Rivendell. He knew that it could only be an escort from Erebor, and while he was overjoyed to see his granddaughter again so soon, he wondered what had prompted her to return.

Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir were already waiting on the steps of his house when he arrived. They exchanged confused but happy looks as they waited for the group to near, and Elrond sighed as Arwen automatically shifted closer to the twins. Though he and his daughter had made peace following Aragorn's banishment, he knew Arwen would never truly forgive him, and they would never have quite the same relationship as they had once had.

He wiped such thoughts from his mind as Bilbo appeared, Minriel striding along beside him. As the girl caught sight of her family her face split into a wide grin, and she had to visibly restrain herself from launching at them.

The second thing Elrond noticed apart from his granddaughter was who was not there. Mithril, Minriel's ever protective shadow, was for once absent, and Elrond felt a note of worry rise within him. Had something happened to her? What could be so bad as to keep the girl away from her beloved cousin?

The four elves exchanged worried and confused looks.

Elrond parted a formal greeting, and then drew Bilbo, Tauriel, and Minriel to his study. There Minriel sat in her mother's lap, her uncles on either side of her. Elrond sat behind his desk, and seats were brought in for Bilbo and Tauriel. It was a bit crowded, but they really didn't care.

"Why have you returned so soon?" Elrond asked. He then winced mentally; perhaps that wasn't the best way to greet Minriel. He tried again.

"I am glad to see you," he assured her. "But you would have barely been back at Erebor for two months before returning; I am confused as to why. Also as to where your cousin is."

Minriel's eyes dimmed slightly. "Uncle Bard died," she told them. She didn't mention her confusion on the subject of old age. Though she was still upset over the inconceivable concept, she did not want to discuss it at this time. Besides, her great grandparents had done a well enough job of explaining things to quiet her questions for some time.

Arwen's hand came up to stroke through Minriel's hair, and her mother leaned forward to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I'm so sorry baby," she whispered.

Minriel shrugged. Although her uncle's demise had upset her greatly, she was by now used to death. Plagued by visions of death for as long as she could remember- and none of them pretty- she liked to think that she and death had something of an intimate relationship.

"And Mithril?" asked Elladan. "Why hasn't she come?"

Bilbo scowled from by the door. "Thorin is hogging her," he stated sourly.

"I'm pretty sure that's what he said about you," Tauriel commented. Everyone assembled burst into laughter but Bilbo and Minriel, Bilbo's scowl deepening. Minriel simply glanced around her sadly, looking lost.

Her family attempted to keep her spirits up during her stay in Rivendell. They kept her occupied learning one craft or another. Her uncles and mother worked on her weapons training, and Elrond began to teach her the art of elven healing. This Minriel seemed to excel at, her normally klutzy hands skillfully binding injuries and applying salves. Still, they could tell that Minriel was disheartened by Mithril's absence. She had never been more than a few feet away from her cousin for the majority of her life, and found that she didn't quite know how to function without her. Often when Elladan or Elrohir would crack a joke Minriel would glance over amidst her laughter to see Mithril's face, and then abruptly fall silent as she remembered that her cousin was not there.

To Minriel's relief, she wasn't the only one who was disconcerted by Mithril's absence. While Frodo, Sam, and Merry certainly missed their eldest cousin, they simply upped the volume of their own laughter to fill the void left. And though Minriel felt a bit ill at ease, knowing that she wasn't actually related to them and feeling that as a result she didn't quite deserve to visit them, she followed along.

Pippin, however, was just as lost as Minriel. Though he had only met Mithril once, he had spent that brief period following her around like a puppy. As the doting younger cousin, Pippin had thought of his older cousin from the distant mountain as something akin to a goddess.

As a result, when the company finally returned to Erebor Minriel all but ran into the castle, sprinting first to Mithril's room. It was empty though, and she began to make her way to all the places where Mithril might be. Eventually she found her way to the courtyard, where Mithril and Thorin were practicing their fighting together, Thorin using dulled swords to teach his daughter. While Bilbo positively squeaked at the sight of the metal blade in his daughter's hands, Minriel shrieked and ran forward.

"Mith!" she screamed.

Immediately Mithril whirled, and a huge grin broke upon her face as she caught sight of Minriel bounding across the courtyard to her.

"Min!" she returned.

Mithril dropped her sword and sprinted forward to meet Minriel halfway across the pavilion, and as the half elven child stumbled Mithril caught her safely in her arms. They squealed and bounced up and down, places in their hearts that had ached over the past months finally making themselves whole again.

Thorin sighed; Bilbo was already ripping into him for not using wooden sticks to train Mithril. Stepping forward, he cut off his husband's objections by drawing him into a long kiss.

"Hello to you too," he murmured when they finally parted.

Bilbo scowled. "Hello," he greeted. He cast a glance towards Mithril. "How was your time together?"

Thorin scowled. "She wouldn't speak to me for a week after you left; she locked herself in her room. The day you left she tried to sneak after you every time I took my eyes off her. And I'm not exaggerating!"

Bilbo chuckled. "That sounds like her," he commented. "So, what got her to finally forgive you?"

It was then that Tauriel and Kili joined them, the rest of the company trailing behind the couple.

"A tea party," Kili stated. "I had to wear a dress."

"We all did," Gloin added.

"Oh!" Pulling herself out of Dis's embrace, Minriel's eyes lit up. "I want a tea party!"

"No!"

The girl was taken aback slightly as the gathered company all screamed the word at the same time, looking horrified at the prospect. From the sides the women, Bifur, and Bilbo chuckled.

"Meh," Dwalin agreed. "Why not?"