A/N: Okay so I got the idea for Thorin being the one to give Dain the pig from poplitealqueen's story Those That Are Left Behind and the rest is (as with the rest of my Hobbit stories) loosely inspired by Determamfidd's Sansukh.

When Dáin first receives the tiny baby pig from Thorin he thinks that his cousin is playing a trick on him.

It has been nearly twenty years since Azanulbizar and Dáin is still settling into his role as Lord of the Iron Hills, whilst his cousin has finally come of age and is ruling their people in the Blue Mountains.

The pig comes to him with a note that Dáin forgets about for roughly two weeks, distracted by paperwork and important tasks that no Dwarrow of 52 should have to think about yet. He had sent the pig to the stables to be looked after until it was old enough to be killed for food and promptly forgotten about it.

Now, two weeks later, he is sorting out the paperwork from the last month and he comes across Thorin's missive. He frowns at it in confusion for a few moments, trying to recall when he had received a message from Thorin and not read it, it could've been important and Dáin nearly starts berating himself until he notices what exactly is written in Thorin's messy scrawl.

Cousin,

(Fuck the Lords who think I should address you as Lord Dáin, I mean what, have you stopped being my cousin because I'm a King and you're a Lord? It's not like they are going to read this anyway.)

Anyway, I know it must be terribly boring for you stuck in the Iron Hills all alone with those stuffy old nobles and I was thinking of sending Dís to you (seriously she's at the worst age right now. Do you want her?) but then I realised that you might not appreciate being sent a whiny Dwarrowdam.

Wow… it's a good thing Dís isn't reading this. Sometimes I think she should be King and have to deal with all the crap that comes with it. A

nyway, so I decided sending you my sister was probably a bad idea. So here's a pig? Piglet? Who knows? A baby pig then. It reminded me of you.

And come visit soon cousin, I can't stand these suck ups who think they get to be my friend now that I'm King.

Your elder and better,

Thorin II Oakenshield

(and all the other crap that comes with it)

Dáin found himself laughing at the letter until tears streamed down his face.

It had been years since Thorin had had any cause to make jokes or be happy so the pig was the best thing he could have sent to him.

When he had finally composed himself he rushed down the halls towards the animal enclosures and rescued the – slightly bigger now – pig from being fed anymore for eating. He didn't bother to explain the pig to his advisors when they asked him why the hell he was raising a pig instead of providing it as food for the Iron Hills.

When asked why he was commissioning armour for it from Thira, the blacksmith who had forged his iron foot from which he had earned his name, he responded, with a completely straight face, that he was planning on having a Battlepig squadron in the Iron Hills army, and then refused to say anything more on the subject.

When Thorin found out about Dáin's Battlepig squadron a rare smile lit up his face, the first that Dáin had seen since Frerin's death and Dáin no longer cared what the rude, old Dwarves trying to take the Iron Hills from him thought, if Thorin, his cousin and his King was happy then he was too.