XXXVII.

Kíli's hand rested firmly on Tauriel's belly, his fingers spread wide apart.

"There is nothing to feel yet. It is too early." She put her hand on top of his.

"Aye, there is." He hooked his fingers around hers but let his hand rest on her abdomen. "There is a bulge. Right here."

She smiled. "That is Bombur's food. He is determined to fatten me."

"He is determined to fatten everyone, himself most of all. He nearly doubled his size since our quest. But…" He started to kiss her neck. "He wants you to be healthy and strong. You are much too thin."

She turned to look at him. "You used to like that."

"I still like it. But you need to eat for two now."

"Will you stop mothering me?"

"No."

She sighed. "Please, Kíli. Everyone is handling me with kid gloves. They bring me food all the time. They force me to sit down. They don't let me do anything! Only yesterday Bofur refused my help when he cleaned out the last debris."

"I would have punched his nose if he hadn't. You cannot carry stones, you are pregnant."

"It was merely sweeping the corridors and carrying buckets of rubble. I wasn't going to overexert myself. "

"You need to take care of yourself and the baby."

"I do. But doing nothing apart from letting Bombur stuff me with cakes and cream and cheese while everybody else is working is driving me up the trees."

"We haven't been doing nothing." He nibbled at her ear and felt her shiver. "And we can do it again. Maybe that will wear you out enough to stop you attempting to rebuild half of Erebor single-handedly."

She chuckled lightly and relaxed against his frame. "I wasn't going to. I just wanted to help. To do something."

"You have done more than enough. You rescued us, the whole bunch. Without you Fíli would have died."

"It wasn't me." Her hand pressed on her belly tenderly.

"It was the both of you. And Bombur is right to stuff you. You need to gain your strength. The High Pass will already be covered in snow. The journey to Rivendell will be strenuous. And very likely dangerous. Loads of goblins are still lurking in the Misty Mountains."

There was a definite smirk on her face. "Don't worry, I will protect you."

He hooked his leg around hers while grabbing her tighter around the waist and dragging her down with him. She struggled but couldn't help being pinned down in the cushions with Kíli on top.

He grinned. "I am not as defenceless as you might think, my smug elf."

She crossed her legs around his hips and her hand wandered over his chest and to the back of his neck. Readily he followed the pressure of her fingers and bent down to kiss her. His loose hair brushed over her naked breasts, and she sucked in a delighted breath that made his smile grow wider. And then, suddenly, her grip in his neck became a push, and she rolled him over to sit on his pelvis and smile teasingly.

"Are you sure?"

He laughed and let his limbs go limp so that he lay sprawled-out under her.

"I am your prisoner once again. Do with me as you please. I'm entirely at your service."

Her sensuous mouth twitched. "Don't worry, my cheeky dwarf. I will. We have a lot of time until the feast begins."

–––––––

"You are late." The Lady Dís frowned at her youngest son. "It is the last Durin's Day we are going to celebrate together and you missed Fíli's speech."

He kissed her on the cheek. "It will not be the last. We will be visiting. Stop wreaking your ill humour on me." He grabbed two tankards of ale from a tray and offered one to her. "And I arrived right on time for the drinking."

She clapped him on the back of his head.

"Ow. One has to set priorities. Your very words, Mother!"

Her gaze wandered to Tauriel and the elf's unusually flushed cheeks.

"Priorities," she huffed. "You should feed her instead of exhausting her. She is nothing but a bag of bones. Get her some stuffed boar and sausages, venison with gravy, extra fat cheese, potatoes with butter, honey cookies, and those sweet cakes that look like a mountain made of whipped cream."

Tauriel groaned.

"If I wanted her to look like Bombur I would have married him."

Dís opened her mouth to reprimand him, but Tauriel took the wind out of the dwarrowdam's sails.

"I am indeed a little hungry. I'll take some of the green food. Salad maybe, or vegetables. Pickles. No butter."

Kíli raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"One of the cream thingies."

Kíli grinned at his mother. "See? We're fine."

Dís looked at him, then at Tauriel and back to him. "Yes," she said. "I guess you are."

And then she did something that made Kíli choke on his beer. She patted Tauriel's arm, before she took her tankard and vanished into the crowd of singing and dancing dwarves.

"Shall I call Estel for assistance?" Tauriel's voice sounded only mildly concerned when Kíli was coughing so hard that ale came out of his nose. "He is right over there, with the Lady Undómiel."

Kíli stopped her with a wave of his hand, gasped for air, and rubbed his watering eyes.

"Let me just choke to death. He's done enough for the Line of Durin. The healers said, without him Fíli would not have fully recovered. He has a way with Athelas apparently, just like the elves."

She shook her head. "Better. He healed my injuries a lot quicker than any elven healer could have done."

"Aye," Helge agreed. The Gondorian, who approached them with a full tankard in one hand and meat on the bone in the other, tilted his head in greeting. "He tended to my wound after the fight against that orc army from the Grey Mountains. The very instant his hands touched my skin, I felt the healing set in. It was a wonder."

He looked at Strider who stood close to the raven-haired she-elf and now shyly took her hand. "It isn't called Kingsfoil for nothing," Helge murmured, a frown on his face. "Do you think that… maybe…There was something about him when he healed me… Something noble…even majestic…"

"And now you think he is of royal blood?" Kíli laughed. "Forget it, Helge. You have listened to too many stories about Thorin Oakenshield tonight."

Helge grinned with embarrassment. "I think you're right, Commander. To my credit: They are truly intriguing, those stories about the dwarven blacksmith who in truth was an exiled king."

"Yeah, I know." Kíli smiled. "Wait until the party is in full swing, the kind of stories they are going to tell then is even better."

Helge stared at the crowd that was bawling out drinking songs and hopping wildly around, shoving and head-butting each other.

"What do you mean? They are brawling already! Or is it a dance?"

Kíli chuckled. "Hard to say. A bit of both, I think. But they are only warming up, the best is yet to come. For those who can still stand, of course."

Helge shook his head perplexedly. "To think that among men, dwarves have a reputation for being restrained and grumpy all the time."

"This is the best feast I've ever been to!" Ruyak put a hand on Kíli's shoulder and the other on Helge's, spilling half of his tankard over him. "Dwarves really know how to party! I love it!"

He gave them a happy punch and spilled the rest of his tankard on Helge's tunic, before he dived into the mass of dancers again.

"He certainly feels at home." Helge lifted the soaked part of his tunic that was dripping with ale. "I wouldn't be surprised if he offered his service to Erebor."

"I think Dwalin likes him well enough to take him into our forces. They are head-butting."

Helge tried to wring out his tunic. "Ruyak may fit in here, but the rest of us? Are you sure you don't want us to accompany you to Rivendell, Commander? We could ensure your safety on your journey."

"We can look out for ourselves," Tauriel said mildly. "Besides, we will be travelling with Strider and the Lady Undómiel, that should be safe enough. But thank you again for your offer."

"Hasn't King Bain asked you to join his forces?"

Helge sighed and gave up on his ruined shirt. "He has indeed. To be part of Dales' army would be a great honour for me and the men. It is a good army, he is paying well; and Dale is a beautiful city to live in. We just thought that, maybe, we could stay with you a little longer. At least travel with you one last time."

Kíli shook his head. "Our journey together is over. I intend to lead a peaceful life from now on. No more fighting and orc hunting, if I can help it. The scariest thing I am planning to do in the future will be the changing of diapers. You are good soldiers, Helge, and Bain is a good king. You will both benefit from that arrangement."

"Yes, Commander." Helge's voice sounded strangely raw. "Thank you. For everything. May the sacred tree blossom for you."

"No, thank you. It was an honour to fight at your side. May the stone under your feet remain steady at all times."

They gripped each other's forearms and embraced quickly, before Helge walked away, tugging clumsily at his wet shirt again in an ill-covered attempt to hide how shaken he was.

Kíli sighed. "Damn. The farewells have started. I had hoped we could celebrate tonight, and be sad at heart tomorrow."

"Do you regret your decision?" Tauriel's eyes were dark with concern. "We don't have to leave. Everybody is trying to be really nice to me. I can manage here."

"We are leaving for Rivendell tomorrow, just as we planned to. I want you to be among elves until the baby is born. Just in case."

"Everything will be fine. You know what the Lady Undómiel said."

He nodded and interlaced their fingers. "I know. And I know we have to do this. We travel to Rivendell first and then we are going to find a place that is just for us. A new beginning."

"You are leaving a lot behind. Family, friends."

"Which gives me a lot of reasons to visit. And…" He gestured to the little dwarfling who was running up to them now, black braids flying. "The same is true for you. The little one is totally infatuated with you."

Tauriel scooped Freya up in her arms. The dwarfling snuggled into the mass of hair immediately and giggled delightedly while whispering something into the elf's ear. The usually so alert elleth, always prepared to fight, always controlled, softened visibly when the dwarfling wrapped her little arms around her neck. He had never seen her like this, not even around him. There was a glow on her face and a smile on her lips that made him ridiculously happy. And he would do anything to keep it that way.

Kíli rounded the wild mass of dancers, grabbed another tankard from a servant's tray and looked around in the Main Hall that Bofur had rebuilt in record time. The Throne Hall was a different matter, but eventually Erebor would be her old self again. The dancers were swaying in a wild rhythm and occasionally tugging at each other's beards affectionally. Tankards – and quite a few heads – were slammed against each other. Stories about great deeds in battle were exchanged, songs were sung, and lengthy jokes were told. Bifur was talking rapidly and gesturing wildly, and Gandalf, who seemed to listen intently, laughed heartily. Bofur had climbed the shoulders of a giant statue, waved his hat about and sang his favourite song about the man in the moon, to which Bombur clapped the rhythm whenever he was not stuffing sausages into his mouth. Ruyak, Kíli realised with a grin, was dancing with a dwarrowdam in a way that most likely would have to lead to a marriage. Berenor stood at the other side of the hall and lifted his ale in salute when his eyes met Kíli's. The Mirkwood smith's gaze drifted over to Tauriel, who still was cradling Freya, and he smiled. Kíli returned the smile and his heart clenched. Another friend he was going to miss. But he knew with absolute certainty that they had to leave. As much as Erebor meant to him, as happy as he was to see her full of life and laughter again; the Lonely Mountain was not his home. And Tauriel's even less. Their home was the roads and rivers, the plains and marshes, the woods and mountains; it was all the places they ever wanted to see; it was as large as Middle Earth and as small as the rune stone in his pocket. Their home was with each other.

Kíli looked at the party crowd again and felt happiness dissipate the wistfulness. Dwarves drinking and celebrating this heavily with men and elves? That had not happened since the Second Age. He thought about Katla all of a sudden. She had been one of his closest friends. Would things have turned out differently if she had joined Thorin's company? If she had been fighting alongside men and elves at the Battle of the Lonely Mountain? His uncle had turned her down, just as he had turned down Gimli. Both of them had been far too young for such a dangerous journey. In consequence they had both grown up in the relative secludedness of the Blue Mountains. Ered Luin had dealings with men, but the dwarves mostly kept to their own. There was no mingling with other races, not like it was common in Erebor now. As much as he liked Gimli, Kíli could not imagine his cousin becoming friends with elves.

This, he thought happily, while he looked at the party crowd where a food fight was in full swing, was so much better. Dwarves, men and elves were celebrating together, although the wounds were still healing and trust had to be regained.

Berenor threw one of the cream cakes with the accurateness of an elf and hit Dwalin right in the face, just when the old warrior, face flushed with ale and dancing, had been about to put his arm around the Lady Dís' waist. Now Dwalin was wiping whipped cream from his moustache, and roaring with anger, and going after a shrieking Dori while Berenor was watching, his face a mask of indifference. Bofur nearly toppled off the statue's shoulders in a laughing fit. Everybody had a good time tonight.

Only one was missing.

Kíli put his tankard down and left the hall.

The air was cold and smelled of rain, when he stepped out on the rock-hewn parapet high above the Main Gate. Solitary yellow leaves danced on the wind before sweeping over grey stone and coming to rest on the giant sculptures that were guarding Erebor's walls. Kíli pulled the fur coat tighter around his shoulders and walked along the parapet until he detected the lone figure looking at the horizon.

His brother didn't turn around when he stepped at his side.

"You remember the last time we were out here together?" Fíli asked. "It was long after the Battle, but we were still wrapped in so many bandages that we looked like parcels. I feel like one now." He tugged at his tunic under which the dressing covering his chest and back could be seen. „Do we always have to battle and bleed for what is ours?"

Kíli shrugged. "Tradition. All our forefathers are praised for their deeds and lost limbs in battle. You remember the song about Bairic Betteraxe who chopped off thirty-two orcs' heads with his iron hand and put them on a pile only to bowl them with a troll's head?"

Fíli grinned. "We used to like that one."

"Yeah."

"Before."

"Yeah."

Fíli looked at the Grey Mountains that were partly hidden by dark clouds.

"Thak might already be back in Ered Mithrin by now. It was a good thing that you persuaded me not to kill Dwoss. Bring the traitor back to the Grey Mountains, expose the Elders and their dealings with Sauron, that is way better. Do you think Thak will succeed and free his colony?"

"With the aid of Erebor's soldiers that are accompanying him, yes. He had a lot of followers back home who didn't want to be ruled by orcs any longer. That was the reason they put him in the dungeons."

"I always thought those wicked dwarves in league with Morgoth were nothing but a myth. A scare story for little dwarflings."

"They still are."

"I don't know. Sometimes I fear there is too much evil in this world."

"There will always be those who make a stand. Like Thak. Like you."

"There are many who despise the way I lead our people."

"You brought peace to these lands. Not even the traitor Dwoss could change that. They trust you. And that goes not only for the dwarves of Erebor. Bain never forgot what you did back in Laketown, how you defended his sisters against orcs. How you provided him with everything that was needed to rebuilt Dale. He came to our aid immediately. Even Thranduil remained loyal to you."

Fíli shrugged. "We need each other if we want to live in peace."

"The Darkness is not defeated yet. Sauron will rise again."

"We will be ready."

They stood in silence for a while. The wind played with their hair and made the beads in Fíli's blond mane jingle.

"How am I going to do this without you?" He suddenly asked. "How shall I rule Erebor without you?"

"Easily, I imagine. No one will call you an ass in public any more."

The braided beard twitched under Fíli's involuntary grin.

"Maybe someone should. I need you to help me find my way."

"Nah. You are the one with the visions and the smart mind."

"Don't know about that. Without you I would probably still be hiding. I am not always sure what to do. I want the best for Erebor, but not every decision I make is a good one. How can I be a good king when I am so full of flaws?"

"You couldn't be a good king if you weren't." Kíli put his arm around his brother. "Only Mithril is perfect, brother, we have to strive and struggle."

Fíli's smile was warm. "When did you grow up?"

Kíli grinned. "Had to happen some time."

"You are doing the right thing, leaving Erebor for a life of your own. But promise me you will take care of yourself? Of Tauriel? Of your child?"

"Three times yes."

"You will come back to visit us?"

"Of course I will."

"Good. The thought of being separated from you is making me edgy."

"We will never be separated, nadad."

Fíli looked up, a warm light in his eyes. "You are right. We won't." He put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "You promise to think before you plunge head-deep into some dangerous adventure? No harebrained schemes, no reckle…" Fíli stopped in mid-sentence and grinned suddenly. "Ah, sod it. Just promise me to be happy."

"Can do that. Easily."

His brother closed his arms around him and hugged him tight.

"By Durin's fucking beard, I will miss you."

Kíli buried his face in his brother's hair and returned the embrace with so much force that his arms ached. Not to mention his heart.

"Miss you too, nadad."

He sniffed and wiped away some tears. And when he saw Fíli rub his eyes with the back of his hand, he laughed. Dwarves just loved to cry.

"Everything will be fine, trust me."

Fíli smiled. "Always."

With a croak a shiny, black bird landed next to them on the parapet. It shook its almost blue feathers and eyed them inquisitively. Then the bird hopped closer to Fíli and bobbed its head in a bow.

"The ravens are returning to Erebor," Kíli said softly.

The End

A/N: It is done! I am overjoyed and sad at the same time. It was a hell of a journey, and you made it worthwhile. Thank you everybody for going on this quest with me. Loyalty, honour, a willing heart, and the generosity to ignore misspellings… What else did I need?

A special thanks first of all to my beta who was always reading my story and encouraging me to write, when she was drowning in writing and translating academic papers, not to mention working on her own novel.

And special thanks to all those who stayed with the story, took part in our heroes' fates and reviewed so much. Your reflections, ideas and hints really helped me going: Sorrelkaren, Celebrisilweth, syeern, deviant84, kasmira36, yshxf, helciakuras, ValarenofGondor, enchantedstarlight, Aranel Mereneth, guest44, Jpezcandy, salwyn77, ck, TaurielKili1976, MiyonzMae, ForeverJelly, reach4theskye, Lumiya1989, briongloid fiodoir, donnajoy, Margaritasc, Rattusrex, Filisgirl, miss-helia, Blue, Kloklo, TMI Fairy, Paula, guest reader, Hobbyt, Legbiter, butterbum and the many guest reviewers. You rock.

And because it is so hard to let go – there will be an epilogue.

:)