Greetings from Budapest!

I came home to no electricity, due to a mishap with the electric company over our bill, so I had to take that taken care of. As a result, I was only able to start this chapter last night, so if it's late (I can't remember), I apologize.

kaia: Omg, I know, isn't she? Ara is an amalgamation of all the babies/children I've known, including my nephew, because I have no other experience with them. XD

girl43: Haha, you're right. But that's not till next chapter. ;)

Knight's Queen: No apology necessary. :) I'm glad this series makes you smile! Writing it constantly makes me smile, especially the simple, domestic, parenting scenes.

Queen of Erebor: *nods* Thorin is totally putty in Ara's little hands! And he knows it. XD

Jo: Yes, I believe a few people requested for Bilbo to come back, so he did. For one chapter. He has a little hobbit (Frodo) to take care of soon!

Phaanja: Yes, Thorin-Talaitha jesting moments are written solely to give them more personality and to make them seem more realistic. At this point, I can write such scenes with little difficult. :) I will actually not be writing an LotR fic, but I think someone is. It'd be interesting to see her befriend Aragorn, though!

LianaDare8: Updated! :)

Just4Me: Yes, Thorin's suspiciously progressive, for a dwarf, lol. But I think he might've been more progressive than either his father or grandfather, had he survived, simply because he'd interacted more with different races. Plus, he grew to appreciate Bilbo, who I think Thráin and Thrór would've scoffed at. And part of his evolution is Talaitha, but part of it is also how I imagine he would've been as proper king.

Skatingfaery: :D

Thank you, all! When I was without power, I sat in the local coffeeshop and re-read your reviews because I was a bit distressed. They helped. xoxo

Note: Aranyka means "little golden one" in Szila (Hungarian). For a picture of Ara and her pony, go to my profile. :)

Disclaimer: I only own Talaitha, Ara, and Aranyka.

Enjoy! :)

Part XVIII: The Princess and the Pony

Ara had grown into a precocious child, managing to charm even the old dwarves who had opposed her accession as heir to the throne. She was curious, constantly asking questions, and observant when her peers were not. Day after day, Thorin watches her with a proud gleam in his eyes, doting upon her every chance he can. He even indulges her fascination with the elves, allowing her to journey to Mirkwood with Talaitha. True, he listens to her ramblings about Legolas and Tauriel and the young elleths who fawn over her with less enthusiasm, but he listens, occasionally asking questions and poking fun at the elves. As long as he can hold her in his lap, Thorin is content to listen to anything. Ara, for her part, takes her father's dislike of the elves in stride, understanding vaguely that they had only recently begun cooperating.

"Daddy, you know that I love you more than the elves, right?" she'd said one day, looking up at him from his lap. Her blue eyes, so like his own, had held a hint of uncertainty.

"Of course I do, my princess," he'd assured and kissed her nose. The girl had smiled, evidently satisfied, and had begun regaling him with the adventure she'd gone on with Fíli and Kíli.

Now Thorin watches as Ara attempts to coax her pony out of the stall. The girl had inherited Talaitha's aptitude for animals, but this is her first time meeting her new pony. Thorin is glad she is being cautious.

"Here," he says, pouring a small portion of oats into her hand. "Offer your pony these, but be careful. Hold your hand outstretched with the palm flat so she cannot accidentally nip you."

Ara does, and the pony slowly approaches her. The girl holds absolutely still, not even breathing, to Thorin's amusement, while the pony sniffs the oats, then carefully eats them.

"I think you can try petting her," Thorin says. The pony looks content, eyes closed and ears alert.

His daughter glances at him, and he nods encouragingly, reaching out a hand to stroke the pony's forehead.

"Just like you pet Szélvész."

"But Szélvész is Momma's horse," Ara protests quietly.

"And this is your pony."

The little filly nickers softly and pushes her nose into Ara's hand to lick up the last of the oats.

Ara's eyes grow wide, and she grins. "She licked me!"

"See?" Thorin says, smiling at his daughter's excitement. "She likes you."

Ara tentatively rests her hand on the pony's forehead, atop the white blaze. When the pony doesn't object, Ara begins to stroke the soft fur, giggling in delight as the filly nuzzles her shoulder.

"I like this better than when Szélvész nuzzles my hair," Ara says. Her confidence grows, and she wraps her arms around the pony's neck, hugging her. "I think she chews on my hair."

Thorin tries not to laugh. "Your hair is the only part of you that Szélvész can reach."

Ara sighs. "I know." She lets go of the pony and gets another handful of oats. "I like Szélvész, but she's too big for me. Aranyka is the perfect size."

"You named her already?" Thorin asks, surprised.

"Yes." Ara begins braiding Aranyka's mane. The pony stands patiently, chomping on the last mouthful of oats. "I think it's a good name, because she's golden."

"Aye, a very fitting name," Thorin smiles. He sees Ara struggling to tie off the end of the braid and helps her. "You do the next one."

Her little fingers are still clumsy, but she manages to secure the second braid.

"I did it!"

"Excellent!" Thorin bends down to kiss her forehead. Aranyka snorts, less appreciative of Ara's achievement. "Now you can braid all of Aranyka's mane and tail, if you want to."

"No, Daddy," she says critically. "That would be too much. I want her hair to fly in the wind like Szélvész's."

"I thought I heard a little horsewoman's voice."

Talaitha enters the stables, and Ara runs to her.

"Momma! Look at what I did to Aranyka."

Talaitha shares an amused glance with Thorin but marvels at the two braids in the pony's mane.

"Did you do them all by yourself?"

"Almost," she says proudly. "Daddy helped with the first one, because I couldn't tie it."

"But she did the second one," Thorin adds.

"Well, it's my lucky day, then," says Talaitha, scooping Ara into her arms. "I spent so much time in the greenhouses with the plants that some of my braids came undone. I thought I would have to ask Daddy to fix them, but his hands are so big."

Thorin's lips twitch.

"I can do it!" Ara cries, reaching for her mother's hair. Talaitha winces at the pull.

"Perhaps we should wait until we're inside and seated. Less jostling that way."

"Okay."

When they reach their chambers, Talaitha takes Ara's shoes off and sets her down on the bed. She sits on the edge, with the little girl standing behind her. While Ara braids her hair, she tells Thorin about her day.

"The Easterlings agreed to our terms regarding the healing plants," she says. "They'll begin transporting them next week."

One of the recent additions to Erebor is a series of massive greenhouses, where food plants and medicinal plants grow. Talaitha hadn't liked the fact that the dwarves were reliant upon other races for fruits and vegetables, so she'd convinced Thorin to build greenhouses. And since they were already growing food plants, she thought Erebor would benefit from trade of medicinal plants, as well.

Truthfully, Thorin hadn't put up much of a fight. He realized by now that Talaitha's ideas were generally good and usually went along with them. This one, too, had paid off, for the Easterlings are the third people to sign a trade agreement for the healing plants.

"I wonder if we can get the elvenking to trade, as well," Thorin murmurs, only half in jest. Talaitha laughs.

"His name is Thranduil, Daddy," Ara scolds. "You wouldn't like it if he called you the dwarfen king either."

"Dwarven king, darling," Talaitha corrects. "Daddy and Thranduil have an understanding."

"So will Thranduil call me dwarven princess?"

"No," says Thorin, holding back a smile. "For you are only half dwarf. But he may call you dwarven-szelemér princess."

Ara scrunches up her face. "I don't like that."

"Dwarven-fairy princess, then?"

"No."

"What about dwairy princess?"

Ara giggles. "That's even worse."

Talaitha cocks an eyebrow at Thorin. "Daddy's kidding. Thranduil and everyone else will call you by your name."

"Or precious princess," Ara remarks. "I like it when Daddy calls me that."

Thorin picks up Ara and nuzzles her cheek. "As you wish, my precious princess."

Ara giggles, rubbing her face against Thorin's scratchy beard. "Can I call Thranduil Thrandy?"

Her parents' eyes widen in alarm.

"No!"