Chapter Sixty-Eight: Onwards

"Why are your hands sticky?"

Emelia bent down and held up Hani's hand, turning it to the left and right in the morning firelight. Something sparkled and Emelia, now decades into parenthood and very much an expert on all things sticky and oozy, knew what she was looking at without needing an explanation.

"You've been dipping into the honeyed almonds before they were ready, haven't you?"

Hani looked for a moment like she might try to lie before she caught the look on Emelia's face and nodded her head. Emelia would take the sort of honesty over Hani's wretched attempts at lying. She was always horrible at it, although the dwarves in the Mountain did try and humor her on occasion, and never seemed to grasp that Emelia and Kili could see right through her.

Kili, who had been busy piling up four very large plates for their other children, looked up and smiled, dimples on full display. He handed their second oldest, Edi– a little blonde girl with eyes like diamonds and her father's dimples – a plate of nothing but fluffy eggs and cheese. She thanked him by popping up and the very tips of her toes and kissing him on the cheek, before she turned on her heel, plate balanced precariously in her small hands, and ran over to the large table to join Fili, Dis, and Dwalin. Dwalin pulled out the chair for her and took the plate before she could tip it over on herself, smiling as she thanked him in her little high pitched voice.

Edie was their little darling, sweet as the honeyed almonds her older sister was so found on stealing, and kind to her very core.

Their next, another girl, was quiet and kept to herself most of the time. Even now, surrounded by her family on all sides, Freri had her nose pressed into the spine of a book that was practically as large as she was. Her mop of wild red curls and brown eyes appeared only on occasion over the top of her book, but Emelia could see the corners pulling back as she tried to fight her smile at all that was around her. She only glanced up when Dis leaned over and started to cut her sausage for her, offering her grandmother a rare smile before she went back to her reading.

Their fourth and final girl, Joli - another little brunette with brown eyes - kept close to Fili. She always favored him from the moment she was old enough to have favorites, and hadn't shown any signs of changing her mind. Not that Fili minded. She was his little shadow, toddling along behind him all through the Mountain whenever she got the chance. She smiled up at Kili when she set her plate down in front of her before she immediately went back to regaling Fili with whatever thing she found interesting that morning.

Today, it was the shape of the newest hunting horn Clan Hyunen had given Hani the night before.

"Gamul Adad was with me," Hani said, pulling her hand away from Emelia. She shrugged at the look on Emelia's face and sidestepped her, eyeing the table full of breakfast. "In fact, it was his idea."

Emelia turned her gaze on Thorin, raising her eyes as he tried his absolute best to look as innocent as possible.

"You're such a terrible influence," Emelia said, hefting up the baby on her hip just a little bit higher.

Joli was supposed to be their last, but apparently the universe had different plans. Thor, a name that Emelia took a great deal of joy in being able to choose, came out of nowhere almost ten years after Joli. He was the spitting image of Thorin, with dark brown -almost black -hair and deep blue eyes. Even his mannerisms, from the way he already had a little crinkle in his brow from frowning so much, to the way his little hands always seemed to be clenched into fists, mirrored Thorin perfectly.

Thor reached out a hand and grasped the braid closest to him, pulling it into his mouth to chew on it until it was soaking wet.

"The usual?" Kili asked, holding up an empty plate.

"Just porridge for me," She said, stomach still a little squirrely from the rich food from the celebration the night before. Hani's birthday, or nameday as the dwarves preferred to call it, was always a big affair and involved just about type of food imaginable. In recent years, it had been harder and harder to stomach the rich food as she had been able to when she first arrived in Erebor.

Just one sign, of many, that she was getting older.

Not quite old enough to describe herself as old, but certainly no longer the naïve teenager she had once been. Her muscles ached more at night and her eyes had trouble focusing on fine print, but she still felt young. Even the little crow's feet by her eyes and the little threads of grey at her temples didn't bother as much as they might have in another life.

Perhaps it was because - despite the fact that when she looked in the mirror expecting to see a nearly seventy year old woman – she still looked and felt like she was in the prime of her life.

Kili came up behind her and took Thor from her arm, trading the baby for a steaming bowl of porridge. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek before he turned back and went to join the rest of their family at the large table. He pulled the chair next to him back and shifted Thor over so he could sit more fully on his lap. He immediately began to pull the little pieces of fruit on Kili's plate into his mouth, gumming at them until they turned to mush in his hands. Kili shifted him in place again, moving him back from the plate before he could make a total mess of his breakfast.

"Adad, Tophil invited me and Edi to their clan dinner next week," Hani started the moment Emelia sat down at the table. "Can we go?"

"Ask your Amad," Kili said, distracted as Thor began to squirm more in his lap.

"I did."

Emelia smirked as she spooned a bit of porridge into her mouth. Hani had asked her. Harangued her, more like, that morning before the sun had even begun to make an attempt at rising. She pounced the moment Emelia emerged from the bathroom, vibrating with energy, and practically pulled her down to her knees without how strong she griped her shoulders.

There was only one thing to do when Hani exuded that kind of energy so early in the morning: direct it towards someone else.

Apparently she took a detour through Thorin before joining them all for breakfast.

"Tophil? Of Clan Yrsin?" Dwalin asked, eyeing Hani with a look of suspicion. "The one with the full beard already?"

Dis and Dwalin shared a look.

"Yes," Hani said, very much attempting to hide something once again.

Tophil was, if Emelia remembered correctly, a particularly handsome young dwarf only a few years older than Hani. Although she was already approaching fifty – a fact which astounded and disturbed both Emelia and Kili in equal measure – she had only recently begun to show any real interest in speaking to the opposite sex.

"Edi," Fili called, a conspiratorial look on his face that screamed opportunity. "What was it you and Freri told me last feast about Tophil?"

"He kept saying something about Hani's eyes."

"Liar!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Girls, girls," Thorin started, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth as he watched his granddaughters squabble back and forth. "You are princesses of Erebor."

"Never seemed to stop Fili and Kili from trying to kill each other," Dwalin said, snorting.

"Will his mother and father be present?" Dis asked, ever the sensible one of the lot.

"Of course. He is my friend." Hani blushed a deep crimson at the very implication that he might, now or in the future, be otherwise.

Emelia watched her oldest's face, reading the minute changes and expressions as only a parent could. She imagined Kili would be doing the same if he wasn't so preoccupied with keeping their son from having a meltdown. Hani, so young and so old all at the same time, experienced the same stages of life as other dwarf children in fits and spurts. She aged slower than a human, but faster than a dwarf at first, baffling them all until she finally seemed to have settled into a comfortable rate of change.

Which was to say, it seemed like Emelia had a little girl – all smiles and freckles and a bit of chin stubble – only a few years ago. And now, morphing right before her very eyes, it seemed like they had a young girl who was now teetering on the edge of becoming a young woman, fully grown beard and all.

Emelia felt older than ever all at once.

But she also felt oddly satisfied that she was so embarrassed about the whole thing.

If she was really past the point of no return, so to speak, Emelia doubted she would even ask permission.

And, despite the inevitable that was quickly approaching, there was always the fact that her daughter was still young enough to enjoy stealing honeyed almonds with her grandfather in the early morning.

Emelia would hold onto that little blessing as long as she could.

"You can go," Emelia said, smiling at the look of joy that sparked on Hani's face. "If you take Edi and Freri with you."

"I was going to go to the library with Ori," Freri said, finally closing her book and giving her attention to her family only when she was drawn into the conversation by force.

"And you can go after."

"I don't need my baby sisters to chaperone me," Hani said, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

"Then you can't go."

"Adad, reason with her," Hani implored Kili, very much unaware that he was likely to the stricter of the two when it came to the merest hint of her spending time with a dwarf the gossip mongers of the mountain were fond off calling 'impishly handsome'. "I am old enough to go to a clan feast by myself."

"Maybe," Kili said, making a face at Thor as he held him up in front of him, the little boy covered practically head to two in fruit slime. "But then again, maybe your mother and I should attend. It has been a while since we had a night out." He spoke to Emelia now, giving her a subtle wink. They shared a knowing look, Emelia blushing at the wink he threw at her like a school girl. The color to her cheeks delighted him and he smiled even wider, holding her gaze with a heat that was probably just a touch inappropriate given the company, before he finally looked away.

"That sou..."

"Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesty," The messenger said, appearing just inside the door. "A pair of travelers have arrived at the gate asking after the Lady Emelia."

"That'll be the elf," Dwalin said, making his displeasure known at the fact that Emelia had maintained a strong friendship with Legolas for as long as she had.

"And the man without a name," Fili finished, standing up. He walked back over to the serviette and began to load up a second plate full of food. Emelia eyed the sweet bun that he added on top. Just as she suspected, when he passed by he dropped it onto her plate and planted a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Perhaps we should invite him to supper."

"He must be an old man by now," Dis said, leaning over to look at Freri's book with her.

"He's my age." Emelia took a big bite of the sweet roll.

Dis stared at her, the familiar look of discomfort flashing across her face for the briefest of moments before she remembered to school her expression in front of the kids.

But Emelia, who knew he as well as a person could know someone after fifty years, knew exactly what was bothering her. Because it bothered Emelia as well. More and more, with each year that passed and with each subsequent birth later in her life, she began to wonder why she wasn't the old woman that she should have been.

At night, as her and Kili lay awake with a fussing Thor, she had begun to wonder if she would ever age.

Or would she simply drop dead when the time came – no sign of anything amiss until it was too late to do anything about it.

Would her family get some sort of warning, or would she simply cease to be.

But she pushed those dark thoughts aside as she stood up and wiped her hands. She walked around the table and kissed each dwarf on the top of the head, smirking as Dwalin made a good show of his displeasure, before she continued. She paused the longest at Kili and Thor, taking special care to shower her baby with a mess of kisses before she waved to them all and went on her way.

"Well, Skipper, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Emelia strolled out of the main gates with a very large smile on her face. Strider and Legolas stood with their backs to her, leaned close together and speaking in what could only be described as a conspiratorial tone.

Legolas did not bother turning around at the sound of her voice, not that she expected him to. It hadn't been nearly as long – about a year, in fact – since she had seen him and she found he didn't start to muster anything that could even come close to enthusiasm until at least five years had passed since they spent time together.

But Strider was an entirely different story.

He had kept his word and always answered her letters and she found herself forming a strong bond from across the entirety of Middle Earth. But, he had grown up in their time apart, and Emelia found herself trying to find the young man she met all those years ago in the face of the much older one standing in front of her.

He had lines next to his eyes, more from stress than joy it seemed, and his hair, like hers, was just beginning to show the first signs of dulling. He filled out, growing a few inches taller to match his much larger frame. But amongst all the changes, she could see the familiar signs as well, and she walked just a little bit faster to greet them both.

"Where is your brood?" Legolas asked, finally turning around to look at her, a sour look on his face when he saw the Mountain backdropped behind her. She was impressed he even came this close to Erebor at all. He wasn't exactly welcome – not by her choice, of course – and returned the favor in kind with a certain frostiness that she didn't think would ever truly thaw. "I assume you are well enough after the recent birth."

"Well enough? Legolas, there is no need for such an overt display of care and affection," She said, smiling at the look he gave her as he bent down ever so slightly to touch her shoulder.

"So?" Strider asked.

"A boy," Emelia said, pulling the coat in her arms over her shoulders. "We named him Thor. Neither of you will ever be able to understand how happy that makes me, but here we are."

"Congratulations."

Strider inclined his head as she came to stand next to the pair of them. Legolas had offered her enough congratulations over the years for each of her children, but he still managed a small smile. "Strider and I were on our way to the Withered Heath. Do you still wish to accompany us? The weather seems to have taken a turn."

"It's been too long. Last time we saw each other, you still had pimples." Emelia smirked at the look on Strider's face, knowing full well that she had been no wonder of teenage hotness herself.

"And you have not seemed to age a day."

"Tell that to my saggy backside. Anyway, I've already packed a bag."

"Of course," Strider said, eyeing her carefully as she started to turn back into the Mountain.

"Let me get stuff!" She called, practically bouncing with excitement at the idea of a little bit of adventure, if even only for a few days. When Strider mentioned it in his last letter, Emelia had hoped that might be a possibility and had prepared accordingly. She had a bag packed, a spear leaning by the door, and her best pair of traveling boots all lined up and ready to go. Even Kili, who was normally quite hesitant to see her go, was rather encouraging.

As always.

He did not like Legolas – and he certainly did not know Strider well enough to make such judgments – but he trusted them enough to keep her alive.

And that was really all that mattered as far as she was concerned, so she gleefully grabbed her bag from their room and threw on her most comfortable traveling clothes before she rejoined them outside the Mountain.

"I have to be back by the end of the week," She said. "You know, responsibilities of motherhood and all that."

"Sounds miserable."

"You're going to be a father one day and it's going to be the best thing that's ever happened to you."

Legolas shrugged his shoulders at the look Emelia and Strider threw in his direction and started to walk away from the Mountain. If Emelia did not know him better, she would have thought he was being incredibly rude. But she did know him better, and she saw the slight twinkle in his eye and the minute quirk to his lips, and took it as a sign that he was happy for her in his own quiet way.

She moved faster to stand between the two of them as they walked towards the Withering Heath, thoughts of parental responsibility melting away for at least the next few days.

They made camp at the edge of the wilds, huddled together by a small fire as the chill of the night settled over them.

Emelia was surprised she felt only a moderate amount of guilt from being away from home and took it in stride, relishing in the lack of things to do, if even for only a few nights. She turned the field hare on the spigot, leaning closer to get a good sniff before she leaned back and turned her attention back on Strider as he continued his story.

"And then, just when we thought the wolf was dead, it popped right back up," He said, a small smile on his face.

Strider was simultaneously more open than she remembered and more reserved. But he seemed to relax more the further they got from any sort of population center. When they were well and truly back into the wilds, neither she nor Legolas could hardly seem to shut him up.

"Ghost wolf," Emelia said, smiling back at him. The field hare began to sizzle, but Strider had made it very clear that he liked it a little more well-done, so she let it sit for just a little bit longer before she pulled it off the fire and began to slice it up. She handed Legolas the hind end, smirking at the look her gave her, before she tucked in her own cut of meat. It wasn't much, but she had managed to shoot her it herself – which was a marked improvement from the last time her and Legolas traveled north- and they supplemented it with bread. "So, tell me the juicy stuff you left out of all your letters."

"I do not think I have left anything out," Strider said, although he shared a look with Legolas.

"Bullshit. You never told me what happened with Thengel."

"That was years ago."

"And," She prompted, wiping a bit of juice off her chin.

"His son now sits on the throne." Strider set aside his finished meat and folded his legs underneath him, a thoughtful look on his face. "Theoden. He seems to be a good man, but he has grown troubled by skirmishes at the border."

"Orcs?"

"It seems to be. Thengel experienced much the same."

"Theoden." Emelia mused over the name, wracking her brain to remember it in all their correspondence. The dwarves had very little to do with the dramas of the kingdoms of men, but she – for obvious reasons- maintained a special interest. She managed to convince Kili to take a trip to Gondor a few years after Hani was born, too interested in seeing the largest city of men to resist the urge for any longer, and found herself greeted by a cacophony of different things. Most of all, she found herself supremely disappointed by the wannabe king, Denethor.

She left with a bitter taste in her mouth and had had very little desire to engage with men since.

Rohan, and all its troubles, hardly even made it into their scouting reports.

It was an oversight, or a dwarvish arrogance perhaps, to be sure, but she still could not change the fact that she knew about as much about the horse people as they were likely to know about her.

Which was to say, nothing at all.

"He has been on the throne for nearly thirty years."

"Ugh, we're old," Emelia said, alarmed by how much she seemed to be reminded of that fact as of late.

When she said it, Legolas, who had been content to sit and listen to them catch up for much of the evening, shared a look with Strider that raised her suspicions once again.

She was not blind, nor was she dumb, as much as some of the people of Middle Earth might like to pretend otherwise, and she had noticed the looks passed between people every time her age was even remotely interested. She mostly ignored it – content to live in her happy ignorance more than anything else – but she couldn't bite her tongue any longer.

"What?"

"What?" Legolas mimicked, feigning innocence and failing miserably.

"What, what? You know what. What's with the face?"

"It is nothing," Legolas tried, sharing a look with Strider once again.

"That!" Emelia gestured between the two of them. "That look!"

"It is a thought I had after your last letter," Strider said, striking a much more calming tone than Legolas. "Of course, there is no way of knowing and I am still not convinced I entirely believe that you truly come from another…"

"World. Realm. Reality. Any word would suffice, really."

"Yes, realm. But, regardless of my feelings on the mater, I have had a thought." He paused, thinking over what he would say. She felt a flush of anxiety bloom in her chest and the longer he paused, the larger it grew to the point that she could hardly stand it. "Perhaps you are Dunedain."

He said it with a significance that hinted the word should spark something in her.

But he realized quickly from the silence that followed that Emelia had no idea what he meant by that.

"It is a race of men gifted with long life."

"Long life like…"

"Such as being able to give birth well into their sixties," Legolas said, scooting forward to stoke the fire. He continued to do so, oblivious – or impervious – to the way she was openly gaping at him. When he moved to grab another log, she threw out her hand and gripped his forearm tight, squeezing it hard enough to get him to drop the log and give her his full attention.

"You can't just say something like that and not explain."

"It is a natural assumption, Emelia. You claim to have appeared in the North, the ancestral land of the Dunedain, it should be noted, and have proceeded to age in much the same way. Either you are Dunedain, or you are something else entirely. I think that is a far more concerning prospect."

"But why?"

"Who can even know," Legolas said and Emelia could tell that he did not wish to linger on the subject for much longer. To be honest, she felt the same, but she had a few lingering questions that she had to ask.

Just to get it off her chest.

To settle her mind.

And, most of all, to put it to rest so she could never give it a thought again.

"How long?" She asked, keeping her hand on Legolas' arm as she turned to address Strider. "Hypothetically speaking, if I was, how long could I live?"

"The typical lifespan is double that of the average man."

Double.

Twice as long.

She could have years and years and years to see her children grow – from little nubbins to fully grown dwarves with little nubbins of their own. She could have twice as long with Kili and he could have twice as long with her. Every panicked thought she had melted away from her in that moment and she nearly relaxed into nothing more than a relieved pile of goo.

She could have years and years and years.

She supposed that was all there was to be said.

It wasn't like she could do a DNA test and know for sure. All she could do was trust in their intuition, something she always did despite Legolas' thorny nature and the fact that she still didn't know Strider's real name, and hope that they were right in the end. Everything else would just cause undue stress.

Legolas put his hand over hers and gave it a slight squeeze.

He pulled back and went back to stoking the fire, a far more comfortable silence settling over them.

Emelia pulled her coat over her neck just a little bit tighter and scooted closer to the fire.

"Now that we've settled that, let's get back to the real issue."

"Which is?" Strider asked, scooting closer to the fire as well.

"I've already made it to the P's and I still don't know your name."

"He told me years ago," Legolas said, smugness overtaking him once again.

"Percival?"

"No."

"Peter?"

"No."

"Panchet. Paul. Pietro…"

They buried Bard on the shores of the lake.

The service was peaceful, just as the last years of his life had been, and when it was over Emelia found herself overcome with a deep relief at the thought that there was no suffering.

It was really all anyone could ask for, in the end.

His children, all well into the meat of their lives with children and grandchildren of their own, dressed for the occasion. Hiron, who now lived his life without his brother Galon after a sudden stroke took him three years before, stayed close to Emelia and Kili. It had been years since he was the little boy she rescued, but he still gravitated towards her.

But he was now an old man, with a wife, and then another wife when the first one passed away, and several children, and even more grandchildren than Emelia could count, and the time had long since passed since she could take any credit for the sort of person he became. And by accounts, he was a very good person. As were Tilda, Sigrid, and Bain.

Their quality was clear even in the littlest of ways – in the ways they always thought of others first and always called on Bard even when they were too busy- and Emelia was quite proud of them and all they had become.

"Are you hungry?" Emelia asked, putting her arm around Hiron as they walked away from the shores. His wife and children and grandchildren walked behind them, the youngest of the group already moving on from the sadness and onto happier things, like flinging mud at their parents and pushing their siblings into the dirt. They ducked out from behind them and sprinted away, throwing mud and rocks at each other despite the protests from their elders.

"No," Hiron said, taking his time as they crested the hill.

Dale was somber today as most of the people mourned the passing. Although it had been years since Bard ruled in any capacity, he still loomed large in almost every aspect of life. The longer she was around remarkable people, the clearer it became that they remained remarkable even in death.

Part of her hoped she would be thought of the same.

But she felt simultaneously on the cusp of needing to think of that and years away – young and old, May and December all rolled into one.

The feeling was only made worse when she wrapped her arms around the man who still should be a little boy and she realized she was now likely to outlive them all. "Is your stomach still bothering you?"

"I do not seem to have much of an appetite lately," Hiron admitted, drawing in just a little bit closer as they approached Tauriel and Bard's kids.

Tilda, who had seamlessly taken over Bard's roll as the Master, smiled as she accepted a world of condolences. She shook their hands and kissed their cheeks and nodded her head along with them as they recounted their favorite memories of Bard. But Emelia could see that the feeling did not reach her eyes.

"Perhaps a little bit of soup, just to get something on your stomach."

"I have told him the exact same thing," Hiron's wife, Jilyn, said. She came to stand beside them and wrapped her arm around Hiron's other side, giving Emelia a warm smile. "Come, love, let's get you home and out of this cold."

Emelia tried not to let the pain show on her face when Jilyn said that, but she felt it course through her all the same.

Hiron was old and time was undefeated.

Emelia watched them as they moved away from the crowd, a deep sadness settling in her stomach.

She knew it was coming.

Time passed.

People died.

She had seen firsthand that it was inevitable, but she hated how much it seemed to have accelerated as of late. She wanted to gather them all in close, Hiron and Tilda, Sigrid and Bain, and all their ever growing families, and keep them from slipping away from her just as Bard had just done and Galon had done before him.

Emelia pulled her fur stole tighter around her neck and bent her head to avoid the worst of the wind.

"Going home?"

Emelia looked up, not realizing she had already started to turn back towards Erebor without much thought. Caught red-handed, she plastered a charming, if not bereaved, smile on her face and prepared to go through the cycle of reminiscing about Bard before she saw Tauriel staring back at her.

Emelia hadn't seen much of her during the service, not that she expected to. The sort of pain she was feeling, the sort that she was going to keep feeling in ebbs and flows and fits and spurts, was not something that was meant to be shared. It was inherently selfish, but Emelia understood Tauriel's need to be alone.

Because, as much as they would all try and sugarcoat it and dress it up in poignant soliloquy, Tauriel was now without her partner and so very much alone.

So, with nothing to say that would make her feel even remotely close to normal, Emelia simply turned back and touched her hand to her arm.

"There's a meeting…" Emelia trailed off when she realized just how callous it sounded. "I'm sorry, that…"

"There is no need to apologize." Tauriel touched Emelia's hand, squeezing it for a moment before she pulled back and entirely in on herself. "Life goes on."

"It does."

Emelia had the feeling that there was far more meaning behind both their words but neither of them was willing to say it out loud. Tauriel pulled further away and clutched her hands in front of her chest. Tears welled in her eyes and Emelia, now having known her for as long as she had, rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her waist.

"How?"

"What?"

"How am supposed to go on living when he's not living with me?"

Emelia felt her heart shatter at the pain in her words. It was a pain that she couldn't understand, but she seemed determined to inflict on her children one day. The pain of that reality was reflected back at her in the form of Tauriel's abject grief and Emelia felt her own pain magnify tenfold the longer they held onto each other.

"I wish I had an answer," Emelia admitted, squeezing her oldest female friend just a little bit tighter. "I wish I could wipe away all this pain for you. You loved him fully and completely and…"

"And now I think I might just die myself."

Emelia squeezed her just a bit tighter.

Tauriel let the embrace keep happening for a moment longer before she pulled back and wiped a few wayward tears from her face. She smoothed her hair back and straightened her coat, all evidence of emotion and pain disappearing entirely. Emelia tried to keep her from stepping back, quite concerned at the look on her face. But Tauriel continued to pull back until she was out of her grasp entirely and all Emelia could do was grip at thin air.

Tauriel turned and – only after giving her one final look – put her back to them all and walked away.

Thorin's study was warmer than usual although it did nothing to stave off the chill of the day. They met in there more and more often as it got harder for Thorin to move around Erebor with ease. The joints in his hips had been paining him terribly as they hurtled towards winter once again, and he sought refuge next to his warm hearth and under the covers of his favorite blanket.

It had been a gift from Joli– knitted over the course of three snowstorms that trapped them all inside – and gifted to him at Yule three years back.

Emelia held out the cup of cider, blowing on it just before she did to take some of the fire off, and waited for him to reach out and take it.

"How do you feel today?" She asked, sitting down the chair opposite him as they waited for Fili and Kili to return.

"Tired," He paused, a wry look on his face that made Emelia smile. "Old."

It had become their routine and Emelia wouldn't trade it for the world.

"You don't look a day over one-eighty," Emelia said, smirking at him over her own steaming mug of cider. "One-ninety, after a few dozen mugs of ale."

Thorin rolled his eyes and took a large swig of cider, entirely unbothered by the way it should have scalded his tongue. She still wasn't quite used to the difference in tolerance, despite the long years, and at that point she didn't think she ever would be. She blew on her own drink and took a small sip, accepting that she would have to live with a burnt tongue as long as she left dwarves in charge of temperature control.

"I have only made through half of these reports," Thorin said, ignoring her snipe for the business of the morning. He looked at the pile with a certain sort of disdain that was shared between them all when it came to Gloin's weekly reports. He was long winded, at the best of times, and only got doubly so when given a quill and the opportunity to pontificate.

Emelia, distracted by the boldness of Gloin's lettering the moment the actually took notice of it, took a large sip of her cider and promptly regretted it.

"Son of a –"

Thorin shot her a look and she, feeling properly reprimanded, swallowed her string of colorful curses and picked up the top paper and started to read. It was mostly ordinary reports, discussions of grain storage or clan conflicts that were brewing. She scanned the khuzdul, pausing on the words that she still had to mentally translate. Most of it was the mundane realities of everyday life, but she recognized the heavy strokes of one word in particular.

Orcs.

She held it up to her face and read it again, backtracking to the beginning of the page to reread the context.

"Have you read this?" She asked, holding it out for Thorin to take.

"No," Thorin said, setting aside his mug of cider to take the parchment roll from her. He scanned the words, bringing it so close to his face his nose was practically touching it, before he said it aside with a glower.

"Thoughts?" Emelia probed, taking the parchment back and reading it again twice more.

"They have not been so bold for years," Thorin said, sounding deeply troubled by the idea. "And certainly not so close to Erebor."

The large door to the study swung open with clang, revealing a very beleaguered looking Kili and Fili. They lumbered over to them and Kili touched the side of her arm, gesturing for her to hop up so he could take the seat. She settled on his lap and sank back, taking up the usual position they were in. He set his hands on the arms of the chair and let out a long suffering sigh, visibly relaxing now that they were safely ensconced in the child-free zone that was Thorin's private study.

"Read this," Emelia said, holding out the report for Fili to take.

"We just sat down."

Nevertheless, Fili took the paper and read it.

"Bold."

Emelia hummed in agreement and took the paper from Fili to pass to Kili. When he was finished, he set it on her lap and let out another sigh, sounding even more exhausted than even just a moment before. "What should be our course of action?"

Silence settled over them, each retreating back into their own thoughts for a moment, before Thorin finally broke it.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"We do nothing for now," He said, voice just the slightest bit rougher. "A few groups of marauders is not a cause for calling the banners. We close the gates and double our patrols. The orcs will move on eventually. Send word to the humans and elves that we will defend our lands. If the humans call for aid, we will answer."

"And if they don't move on eventually?"

"Then we will meet that challenge when it comes."

Emelia, who had seen how much dwarves cherished solitude and safety above all else, was not sure if it would be as simple as that. More importantly, however, than her little bubble of doubt was an even stronger belief that Thorin would do the right thing if- when- the time came. She felt a sudden chill, something seemingly impossible in the roasting study, and leaned back into Kili just a little bit further as an ominous feeling settled over them all.

A bit of a mixed bag of happy and sad, as life is for most of us.

The question of her lifespan is one left open to interpretation, but this is one explanation. You can imagine it how you like, but I couldn't leave you guys thinking she was going to end up dying over a hundred years before Kili. That's too heartbreaking and this is a happy space (sort of lol)

Anywho, this sets up a little bit of what will happen in Lord of the Rings and the dwarvish involvement in that.

Thank you to everyone who is still here, even after all these years! It won't be too long now :(