Dwarves are miners by nature. They were built for the earth with stout, strong bodies designed for resilience. Men and elves are taller, with varying degrees of fairness that is rendered useless to the race of dwarves; no amount of soft skin or flowing hair could protect you from the rocky caves below. Elves lived centuries without fading, dwelling in forests and valleys full of cheer and song- but in the deep underground tunnels filled with precious jewels and treasures, the dwarves were truly happy. Thranduil's dungeons were much different than what they were used to.

Their prisons were set along a winding path that snaked its way through the entire kingdom. The cells alone weren't so bad, and each "guest" was given adequate amounts of food and water for their part- except Rose, who was forced to conceal her growing figure underneath robes and hide her face in a hood. The guards passed by each day none the wiser of her condition, having not seen or heard of a pregnant dwarf in their long lifespans. They wished to feed their prisoners and be on their way- especially now that the feasts have begun.

"Here you are, my dear."

Oin offered her some food, hiding his plate so she couldn't see. Rose knew that he had been giving her some of his rations whenever the guard left. When she tried calling him out, he would remind her that the baby needs as much nutrients as possible and that was that. She sighed in exasperation. This whole pregnancy concept was grating on her nerves. Taking the plate from his hands, she thanked him and ate without argument. It would be useless at this point. Instead, she chose to make conversation.

"Oin?"

"Yes, my queen?"

"How much longer do you suppose we'll be in here?"

The old dwarf deliberated for a moment, shuffling through the vials in his pouch. It was a small miracle that the guards allowed him to keep it, but with such an extensive knowledge of healing tonics, they must have seen the contents and known that little harm could come from a few herbs and spices. "I'm not sure," he said at last. He gave her a worried look. "It's not that it's bad," Rose said to assure him, "I feel much better than I did a week ago." She lowered her voice. "But we're running out of time."

"I'll not lie to you, lass, things are...complicated. While it's true you've been healing remarkably well, I don't think it's a good idea for you to get too close to that mountain so long as the dragon lives. Thorin feels the same way."

Rose lifted her chin under her hood in defiance. "I'm not abandoning you lot that easily."

"Not even for your child?"

"Both I and my child will be safe- so long as we have Thorin."

"Primrose-"

"No. I will not talk anymore about it."

She went back to eating in silence. So much for avoiding confrontation. Oin abided, adding some herbs to her water and setting it to her side for her to drink. Even if she were mad, Rose had to admit his potions had done wonders for her strength. The elves didn't mistreat their guests too poorly, not even as prisoners. But the accommodations could have been better. When she had eaten the food and drank the herb-water, Rose leaned her head back on the wall and drifted off into a light sleep.

It wasn't until she heard quiet voices that she woke.

A soft tinkling sound made its way to each cell in turn, and at last it came to her and Oin's door. It opened with a loud creak, followed by some quiet curses about keeping it down. The old dwarf put a hand on her shoulder, and she knew it was time to go. The two of them slipped from the cell without hesitation, and Rose found herself face-to-face with the dwarf she had spent weeks worrying about. Thorin's eyes darted from her stomach to her face, looking for any sign of illness or discomfort. Rose took a moment to realize he was giving her the courtesy to make the first move. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to ask where he got off thinking he could just leave them in the woods and get himself captured, but when she said nothing he took her in his arms with such gentleness that the words dried up in her throat. She hugged his waist instead.

"We cannot linger here," said Thorin in her ear.

Rose understood. She stepped back and allowed him to lead her by the hand. The rest of the company followed suit. "When we get the chance," she said to her husband, "You are going to tell me everything that happened." He gave her a sideways look filled with amusement. "There's not much to tell. I was captured and, after a failed interrogation, was placed in their prisons."

"Do you always have to attract the wrong kind of attention?"

"Only when you aren't there to pull me in the other direction."

"Remind me never to let you out of my sight again."

Bilbo piped in. "Er, I don't think we should be talking. There are guards at every corner. This way."

He led them to a cellar that was empty except for three elves sitting at a table. Lying at a table was more accurate. Each of them held a large mug, filled with frothy brown liquid. Their hair was unkempt and wild, covering most of their faces. The sound of snoring filled the room. Leave it to the elves to not be able to hold their alcohol. Bilbo crept past as far from them as he could get with predator's stealth. He led the group to stacks of empty barrels, save for one which held mounds of straw. Everyone looked at him in confusion while Thorin turned to his wife. His eyes were urgent.

"We have to get you into this one," he said, indicating the barrel with straw. "It will help cushion you and the baby."

"Is there no other way?" asked Dwalin. Thorin shot him a look.

"Unless you want to fight the entire woodland realm with my pregnant wife left to do nothing but watch, this is what we have to do."

Bofur looked agitated. "We're supposed to be going out, not further in!"

Bilbo needed no more delay. "This will work, you just have to trust me. Get in."

If that weren't enough to satisfy the dwarves, which it wasn't, Thorin added "Do as he says" for good measure while he helped Rose into her barrel. He stuffed more straw in to make sure she wouldn't be thrown about too roughly, and it wasn't until Rose had assured him she was fine that he spared a thought to find a barrel for himself. "If we live through this," she said, "remind me to thank you, Bilbo."

"Don't thank me just yet," he said under his breath. He was still standing on the platform, next to a wood lever that was taller than him. "Everyone ready?"

"What do we do now?" said Bofur. His head popped out of the barrel.

"Hold your breath."

"Hold my- what?"

The little hobbit put his full weight into pushing down the lever. Rose may have laughed, had she not been falling through the gap that was now opened in the ground. She suppressed the urge to scream as her barrel made contact with the water below, the current carrying her and the rest of the company down and out of Mirkwood. On any other day that she wasn't pregnant and in need to get out of sight from arrow-wielding elves, Rose would have had the time of her life. The water whipped her here and there, passing the others and being passed by them a short while later. She thought she heard screams a distance off, but it was drowned out by the roaring water that carried her on. To her left she saw a flash of red hair, followed by blonde. The elves vanished behind a thicket, and forgotten by the time the company came to a bend in the path where the water slowed.

Rose scanned over heads of waterlogged dwarves and the hobbit clinging to the side of Dwalin's barrel until she found Thorin. He was further along than she was, but he met her eyes with a questioning look. Had she not been so angry with him for leaving, she would have thought it was almost adorable. Rose nodded to assure him she was alright, and he relaxed. Then the currents picked up tenfold.

All around her Rose heard screams of both terror and pleasure- she was more than certain Kili was in the later group- and she gripped the barrel with so much force her knuckles turned white. Water sprayed everywhere, soaking the straw and getting into her airways. She sank further in to avoid her head snapping this way and that, and she prayed to Mahal that it would all be over soon. The whole ordeal lasted about fifteen or twenty minutes, but it could have been hours for all they knew. When the currents did slow, and the company was safe and stable on a pile of rocks that jutted out from the shore, Thorin tumbled out of his barrel in a not-so-kingly fashion and made it to his wife before she landed on solid ground. As he helped her out, he turned his head to address their medic.

"Oin, the vial."

The old dwarf was prepared for everything. He pulled out a glass vial of gold liquid and presented it to Rose. "You must drink this, my lady."

She looked from Oin to Thorin, dripping wet and more than a little put off. "Why? What does it do?"

"It will help the baby," said Thorin.

She didn't mean for anyone to hear her huffing, but given that she had just been tossed about like a rag doll, she had already had it up to her ears with people for one day. Especially when they started telling her what to do for her own baby. Thorin had learned to read his wife's actions better than most throughout the years, and he gave her a tender look. "Just one drink, I promise. Then we'll get you dried off so you can rest."

With a sigh, Rose relented. She took the glass and put it to her lips, tasting honey and some type of flower she couldn't put a finger on. In an instant she felt better. The soreness in her muscles dissipated, and with a soft "Oh!" she could feel something stirring. Thorin mistook her surprise for alarm.

"What is it?" he asked. Rose looked at him through teary eyes. He stroked the hair from her face. "Rose, what's happened?"

"The baby," she said. "It's moving."

Taking his hand in hers, she guided him to the place where she felt the kick. As if it were in reaction, another kick reverberated through her womb. It was harder this time. Thorin's eyes widened. He sank to a knee and pressed his head against her stomach, much like he had at Beorn's hut, and took a deep breath. Rose felt all the tension melt away. Her anger was replaced with joy and wonder as she felt her baby kick over and over. "She knows her papa," she breathed.

Her husband's head snapped up. "You know the gender?"

Rose blushed. "Not exactly. I've wanted a girl for some time, that's all." Thorin smiled and turned his attention back to the baby.

"She's a fighter, this one." he said.

"Aunt Prim, are you alright?"

"What's-?"

Her nephews stood every bit as soaking wet as she was, gaping at her and Thorin with scandalized expressions. It made Rose laugh. She beckoned them forward and placed their hands on her stomach, just in time to feel another kick. Kili's eyes lit with fascination while his brother paled. "What's wrong, Fili," said Rose, "haven't you been educated in the subject of birth?" Thorin's voice tickled her stomach.

"He was too young when Fror was born," he said. By now the others had heard the excitement and wished to glimpse it for themselves. A few, like Bombur and Gloin, who have wives and children, laughed at Fili's obvious discomfort. They made a comment or other about explaining it to the lad, which sent a bout of laughter through the group. "It will have to wait," came a voice from above. Balin, ever the diligent scout, looked down at the gathering dwarves and one hobbit. Poor Bilbo looked like a stiff wind might blow him over. Thorin rose from his knee and stood in front of his wife like a shield.

In an instant, a tall figure sprang forward. His arrow hit Dwalin's sword, knocking it clean out of his hands. Another fired right into Gloin's ax, and another was fixed on Thorin. The rock Kili held fell out of his hand. The strange figure sent a chilling look to the young dwarf. "Do it again," he said in a raspy voice, "and you're dead."