Dark Side of the Moon

by Hobbsy3

When the peace of the Shire is shattered by a frantic wizard and Darkness falls upon Erebor, the patchwork family of Kili Baggins is thrown into chaos. Sundered by distance and duty, they must each play a part in the war revolving around the Ring that has long dwelt in Bilbo's pocket. But a conspiracy forms in the shadows and the Ring vanishes, putting the whole world at stake. T/M

98. Chapter 98: The Storming of the Palace

Hey everyone! Thank you for the lovely reviews to the last chapter! I'm sorry this one is so late – I was on holiday, and then I came down with a horrible cold (yay.) Anyways, it's here now, so as ever please do forgive any typos that my sniffling and sleepiness may have caused.

Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Storming of the Palace

Dís heart hammered heart against her ribs as she ushered the chaos in her entrance hall further down the corridor. What had happened to bring her brother here, or how a hundred orcs had got into the mountain to be able to bang on their door, she did not know, but she knew what she had to do. She had never had the luxury of panicking in a crisis, and being pregnant had never granted her an exception before.

"Everyone, into Kíli's bedroom! There's no real healer among us and I doubt we'll be getting one, so we need to pool our knowledge," she called, loud enough for those at the front to hear her. "Bilbo, run ahead, throw down some blankets for the elves." Pausing only long enough to draw in breath, Dís glanced at the guards around her. "You two, I want you to check the escape passages, make sure they're secure, and you three, stay on the door. If there's any change, alert us at once. Kyrri, in Kíli's kitchen there's a large medicine chest – bring it to the bedroom, stick it on the trunk at the end of the bed. Mikel, Colburn, wash your hands, do it well – you'll be healing. And Nali, go to Kíli's kitchen and start boiling water, every pot every pan, every kettle you can get. The rest of you, stay alert and in earshot – see if you can get a way to get eyes on outside, and make sure the entire quarters are secure."

The bedraggled group bustled quickly down the corridor, and Dís looked quickly at her brother. Leaning heavily against a long staff and covered head to toe in bloodstains, he limped along at the back of the group. More worryingly, he also let her order the guards without so much as a flicker of complaint in his eyes. She swallowed.

She knew what she had seen from the door, how close Thorin had been to leading a suicide charge. How close her big brother had come to leaving her.

But he still chose not to, a voice in her head murmured softly. He chose to stay with you. To stay for you.

Pursing her lips, Dís put a hand on his arm, and he smiled down at her grimly.

"You're injured," she murmured, looking at the blood-soaked bandage around his throat, of all places. There was another concentrated area of blood over his shoulder, and she could see the broken clothes above a stab wound on his thigh. "Thorin…"

"I'll be fine," he promised, stroking her cheek gently as they walked. "Nothing but a few flesh wounds."

Dís did not believe that for a second, but she did not have the time to protest. Instead, she followed the whirlwind of blood and fear down the hallway, and through Kíli's quarters, ushering Thorin before her onto the bedroom. She paused at the door, meeting Kíli's wide, startled eyes, and she swallowed. Then, she took a deep breath and pushed her way inside.

"Kyrri, have you got that chest yet?"

"Right here, my lady," replied the guard. Behind him, Jari made to put Ari down on the floor, but Kíli shook his head.

"Jari, put him here," he said, patting the bed beside him, even as he searched the room with confusion wrought into his brow. She too longed to know what on earth was going on, but they needed to act first.

"Mikel," she said, "you help Jari and Aria with Ari and Vinca, and Kyrri, you look over Lord Balin. Colborn, see to your king."

Thorin frowned, glancing over at her, but Dís raised her eyebrows and nodded towards the chair beside Kíli's bed. With a soft snarl, Thorin nodded once, and eased himself back into the chair. Offering him a quick smile, Dís nodded, and rolled up the sleeves of her dressing gown. "Bilbo, Glóin, Dana – we'll take the elves."

"Aye," said Glóin, already peeling away the blood-soaked bandages around Elbeth's torso. "If Thranduil finds out we've lost the both of them it'd be a political disaster."

"Thranduil be damned," growled Thorin, and Dís glanced up to see him glaring at the elves. "They our friends – they came here to aid us, at risk of their own lives. Even before that, we owe Tauriel a greater debt than we will ever be able to pay."

Dís felt a lump rise in her throat, and as a murmur of assent ran around the room, she found that she did not have the strength to add her voice to it. All she could do was kneel by Tauriel's side. She knew full well what debt she owed to Tauriel.

She knew that Tauriel herself had administered much of the healing to Kíli after the Battle for the Beornings, and she knew that without Tauriel, Bilbo would never have survived the Battle of the Five Armies.

Dís would never have even met him.

And now Tauriel was unconscious before her, in a room where not one soul could claim more knowledge in healing than the basic training of a soldier, or that of a healer's brother.

Taking a deep breath, Dís met Bilbo's eyes. He swallowed, and nodded once at her, and ran to the healing chest, collecting bandages and small bottles of salves in his arms.

"What can you tell us, Thorin?" she asked, her fingers pressing into the side of Tauriel's neck. She could feel a pulse, but it was weak.

"There are multiple stab wounds on her torso, and a deep gash in her neck. You'll want to undo those bandages, check and rebind the wounds – the scarves were crude, but all we had time for."

Dís nodded, beginning to untie the knot that had been so hastily bound around the elf's chest. Bilbo deposited his spoils at her side, and then hurried to the kitchen. By the time Dís had unwound the scarf, he was back, with a small pan of warm water and a handful of tea-towels.

"I'm afraid the tea you asked for will have to wait, my darling," he said, smiling weakly at Dís. "It's a good thing I couldn't find where Fíli put the tea leaves."

She smiled back, but as she did, she pulled back the blood-soaked scarf, and the smile fell from her face.

"By the Valar," breathed Bilbo, putting down the pan of water with trembling hands.

Seven times a knife had been plunged into Tauriel's chest, and each of the seven wounds was still oozing blood. On the right side of her neck was a deep gash, one that was utterly unmistakable. Someone had tried to slit her throat.

Taking a deep breath, Dís soaked one of the towels in hot water and began to dab at the nearest wound, clearing away as much of the excess blood as she could. It was one of the deepest – a cruel, jagged gash that stretched deep beneath her right breast, tearing open her flesh by at least two inches across a line as long as Dís' hand. A deflected blow, Dís guessed, though she did not dwell on how the wound was won. Instead, she cleaned it as best she could, and moved swiftly onto the next, as Bilbo did the same on the other side.

"Do you think it's worth using ointments?" asked Glóin from behind her. "They're elves, after all – do they need them?"

"I don't know," she replied. "But they deserve every chance we can give them. Use the best we have."

The smell of blood began to turn Dís' stomach, and one of the babies gave a kick as if in protest as she took a deep breath, and willed her hands to stop shaking. The primal instinct within her was to run, and quite possibly vomit, but she did not have the time for such selfishness.

Tauriel did not have the time.

Soon their hands were covered in blood, and each time that Tauriel's chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths, fresh blood bubbled up through her wounds, but Dís and Bilbo kept going, until they could smear a little ointment around the edges of the wounds.

Finally, Dís called out, "Nali, I need clean water!"

Within moments, Nali ran over, another small saucepan in hand, and Dís washed her hands quickly, drying them on a final clean towel. Bilbo did the same, and then they glanced at each other.

"How… there's so many…" murmured Bilbo, but Dís took a deep breath.

"I have an idea – but I will need your hands."

Bilbo nodded, and Dís set to work, folding several soft dressings over themselves to add a little height, and then covering each wound with the fabric. Then she took a roll of bandages, and called to the guards.

"Nali, Kyrri, I need you to lift Tauriel's torso up so I might get underneath her – support her head, don't let her neck tip back. Bilbo, insofar as you can, hold the dressings in place," she said, and Bilbo nodded.

As the guards raised Tauriel from the ground, Dís wove the bandages around her, winding between her breasts and over her shoulder, then underarm and around her chest and then down to her abdomen, so that each and every one of the dressings was pressed firmly against her skin. Once or twice, she almost bound Bilbo's fingers as well, but after a few minutes, Tauriel's entire torso was bound with white cloth. A few spots of red peeked through, but Dís wove around the bandages again for good measure.

A quick glance told her that Dana and Glóin seemed to have thought along the same lines for Elbeth, though she also now bore a white bandage around her head.

Dís ordered Nali to bring more water, and washed her hands again, and then she moved onto Tauriel's arms, cleaning and binding the smaller wounds that littered them as Bilbo dressed the wound on her neck. As she worked, Dís began to put together the picture of the brutal story that the elf's wounds wove. The neck wound had probably come first, given the deliberate angle of it, and how short it was. The orcs had attacked while she slept, then, and Tauriel had woken to the pain. She had fought – the distinctive marks of defensive wounds made up the entirety of the damage to her arms – but she had no weapon, and some of the blows had got through. Seven, to be precise. She had probably been lying on her back the whole time.

How Tauriel had managed to win such a fight, Dís could not imagine, but somehow, she had. Though she had not had a moment to look at Elbeth's wounds, Dís had no doubt that they were similar, yet somehow, the elves had survived.

Somehow, they were still breathing.

"What… what else can we do?" Dís murmured, leaning back as she finished dressing final wound, and Bilbo looked up, a hollow sort of fear in his eyes.

"I - I think that's all we can do," said Glóin, his voice low. "We can't give them a tonic to strengthen them unless they wake, and I know of nothing else we might do to help heal such wounds as these..."

"But the elves," protested Bilbo, "they gave Fíli droughts and potions in Mirkwood when he lay unconscious, and they gave them to Paladin too!"

"And they gave such potions to you and Fíli following the battle of the five armies," said Glóin, "but I don't know how. They must have a way of encouraging the unconscious to swallow, but it's not a trick I know. I don't even know if Óin did. I fear if we tried, we'd do more harm than good."

"But, but there has to be something," begged Bilbo, looking desperately from Glóin to Dís to Kíli. "We, we can't give up now!"

"We're not giving up." Dís felt a lump rise in her throat and she reached out, stroking Tauriel's hair away from her face. Her skin was cool and clammy, and Dís swallowed. "Perhaps get her a blanket or two, Bilbo. But after that, what can we do but pray?"

No one could answer, and Bilbo rubbed angrily at his eyes, hurrying to the linen closet and retrieving a couple of blankets to drape over the elves. Then he paused, his eyes widening. "Just a moment!" He darted to the door that joined Kíli's room to Fíli's, tumbling through it and returning a moment later with the enormous feather duvet from the older prince's bed bundled into his arms. It was so large that even bunched up it covered the hobbit head to toe, and Dís could not help but laugh a little as Nali ran to assist her husband.

"I'm sure Fíli won't mind. There's another in his spare room, but that's currently buried beneath his sketchbooks," said Bilbo, settling the duvet over Tauriel.

Dana scrambled out from the space between the two elves and helped Bilbo stretch the excess over Elbeth. To Dís' faint surprise, the duvet was enough to comfortably cover both elves even down to their toes – but then Kíli was always marvelling about how large the beds were here. She knew for a fact that he, Fíli, and Thorin had slept there quite comfortably in a bundle more than once since they returned.

Bilbo took a step back and sighed, his face falling once again into anxiety. "I just wish I knew what more we could do… There must be something, but – I don't know. Óin's usually thrown me from the room by this part."

Dís let out a hollow laugh, but as she did, she noticed Dana stiffen and Glóin flinch, and her heart froze. She looked up at Thorin, begging with her eyes for him to ask why she was so afraid, to assure her that she was wrong, that Óin was fine –

Thorin closed his eyes and hung his head.

"Óin…" murmured Dana, her voice tight with pain. "Óin fell. At Una's Doors."

"What?" cried Kíli, looking desperately from Thorin to his parents as Dís' heart shattered within her. "No…"

Tears flooding her eyes, Dís looked up at her son, but already Thorin had taken his hand, squeezing it tightly. Kíli shook his head a little, but said no more, instead shivering back against his pillows, and clutching Thorin's hand like a lifeline.

"What… what happened?" asked Bilbo tentatively. "How did you all end up here, why are there orcs outside? How did they get so far into the mountain?"

Thorin shook his head slowly, and Balin gave a heavy sigh, and began to talk. Horror curled tighter and tighter around Dís' throat as he spoke of the massacre on the gates' balcony, and of Vinca's ringing the bell, and the great explosion that burst a hole in the gate. When he spoke of the great, flash-flame like devices of the orcs, it became hard to breathe, and when he described seeing Thorin haul great boulders off of Ari and Vinca she felt her strength begin to crumble.

And then Glóin began to speak of Fíli, alone and weaponless with a baby on his hip, and Dís could not breathe.

"Óin – Óin got the bastard before it could strike him, and helped Fíli up… and then… then another orc got him. We… we at least had the chance to say goodbye, to, to know that he wasn't alone, when…" Glóin broke off with a small sob, and Dís felt a tear slide down her cheek faster than she could catch it. Bilbo reached over Tauriel's lifeless body to take her hand, squeezing it warmly for a moment, and then Kíli spoke, his voice so small and hesitant that Dís' heart hurt worse for hearing it.

"I – I'm sorry, Glóin. I'm so sorry." He paused, and then lowered his voice, as though the very act of asking was a nightmare. "Where's… where's Fíli now?"

"Leading the charge at the gates," growled Thorin, glaring down at his now-bound shoulder as Kyrri continued dressing the wound on his leg. "As I should be."

"Yes, a right comfort to the men you'd be like that," muttered Dís, but the panic within her was growing. Fíli was on the frontline. Her son, her boy…

She knew that it had to be, she knew the sacred duty of their birth right, but it hurt, and she wished that she could grab her sword herself, that she could at least help, but…

As if to punctuate her thoughts, the babes inside her moved. Since Thora had revealed that she was carrying twins, Dís had noticed that things did actually feel a little different from her previous pregnancies, and she had noted several times when it felt like more than one child was stirring at once. Sometimes, if felt like a small army in there.

Drawing in another deep breath, Dís raised her head and glanced over those on the other side of the room. "How are you all doing over there? Vinca, Ari?"

"He's won himself a good few injuries, my lady," Mikel reported. "His left arm's broken, and badly, there's sign of a decent concussion and no shortage of cuts and scrapes, plus there are definitely some broken ribs there. He's lost himself a good bit of blood, too. Anything more is beyond my ability to detect, I'm afraid, but we've splinted the arm and bandaged the scrapes, and he's had a vial of the best pain tonic there is. Soon as we get out of here, we'll get you a proper healer. I'm sure you'll be right as rain soon, won't you, Lightfoot?"

There was a soft, breathy sound that Dís realised with a start was Ari's attempt at laughter, and she shivered. She knew full well that by 'decent concussion,' Mikel thought the damage to the young dwarf's head to be severe – and that there was nothing they could do without a proper healer to fix it, save a give him a tonic to numb the pain.

Please, Mahal, let him live, she prayed, closing her eyes as they began to sting with tears once more. Please, please let him be alright, let them all live. Please, please let them live…

Bilbo put a hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her head, and Dís nodded, opening her eyes once more and looking back across the room.

"Vinca, sweet-pea, how are you?"

"All – alright," said the young hobbit bravely, though her voice was soft and fragile as paper. "My – my head hurts, and I ache all over, but, but I think it's mainly, mainly shock and fear and…"

"Come here," said Kíli, patting the space on the bed between him and Ari. It was more than big enough for Vinca to sit in, but she hesitated, glancing towards Dís.

With a sad smile, Kíli out his arms and Vinca gave a small sob, fumbling around the bed to tumble into them. At first, her feet remained on the ground, but Kíli wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up onto the bed, eliciting a startled squeak from Vinca and a frantic "Careful!" from his parents and uncle. Rolling his eyes, he pulled Vinca onto his lap, cuddling her close.

"You're alright now," he promised, resting his chin atop Vinca's curly hair. "I've got you now, it's alright. It's alright."

Despite the fear and grief tearing through her, Dís felt her heart lift slightly at the sight of the tension easing from Vinca's shoulders as she curled up against Kíli's chest. Even now that they seemed so much closer in age, with Vinca and her siblings entering adolescence as Kíli barely left it, none of the young hobbits had forgotten how Kíli used to babysit them, to cradle them and cuddle them. None of them had forgotten how, after their own parents, he had been their dearest and most trusted guardian. Their dwarf. Their Kíli.

He held her close for a long moment, and then tipped her gently to the side, tucking her into the gap between himself and Ari. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing her forehead and wrapping his arm around her. A small smile twitched onto his cheek, and he quipped, "Couldn't feel my legs."

Glóin snorted and Jari smiled wryly, but Dís could only sigh. "Really, Kíli?"

He shot her a sheepish smile, wrapping his arm around Vinca and letting her lean into him, and looking pointedly away when she reached down to take Ari's hand.

Something stirred beneath Dís' fingers and she looked down, her heart leaping as Tauriel's head shifted, and her eyelids fluttered.

"Tauriel? Can you hear me? Tauriel?"

"Is she waking?" asked Glóin at once, leaping to his feet. "Because there's a draught, one that Óin – one he created himself. A strength tonic. I don't know how it works, only that it smells a damn lot like gravy, and it's not half bad for pain, either. See if she'll wake, it won't take jiffy."

With that, Glóin hurried over to the healing box, pulling out a small pot from the bottom. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and then hurried to the kitchen, calling out for more hot water.

"Tauriel?" Dís said, glancing towards the kitchen. From where she was sitting, she could see just about catch sight of Glóin pouring what looked like granules or some kind of powder into a large, wooden mug, before pouring hot water on top, and stirring like a mad man. "Come now, that's it, come back to us now."

Tauriel groaned softly, her head tilting towards Dís as her face began to contort with pain.

"Shh, it's alright," said Dís, forcing calm into her voice. "It's alright. Glóin is going to get you something for the pain, something to grant you a little more strength. Just hold on for a little while, darling, just stay with us for a few more minutes…"

The elf's eyelids began to flutter open a little, revealing eyes clouded with a glaze of pain, but within a few moments, Glóin was there, handing Dís a mug of his promised tonic.

"Apparently it replaces the fluids after bleeding, or some such nonsense, I don't know the 'how's or the 'why's. I've had it, though, and as pain tonics go, it isn't bad. I don't know if it'll work for elves…"

"It's worth a try," murmured Dís, stirring the spoon provided and staring down at the mug. It did smell a lot like gravy or stock, though the overwhelming scent was of medicinal herbs she could not name. "Here, Tauriel, we're going to need you to drink some of this, if you can. Bilbo-"

"I'm already on it, my dear," he said, sitting down and lifting Tauriel's head gently onto his lap. She winced, but made no sound, and when Dís raised the spoon to her lips, Tauriel opened her mouth. The moment the tonic reached her tongue she grimaced and recoiled, but she made no protest, and swallowed the mouthful.

"See if you can drink all of it, lass," said Glóin kindly, as Bilbo stroked back the grimacing elf's hair. "It'll do you good, I hope. Get some fluids back into you."

The rest of the room fell quiet around them as Dís spooned every last drop of the tonic into Tauriel's mouth, and when she finally murmured, "It's over," the elf shuddered, and let her eyes close fully.

"Tauriel?"

When no response came, Dís sighed, slumping against Bilbo and reaching out to continue softly stroking Tauriel's hair. For the first time, she found herself wondering about the elf's life in Mirkwood, and her family. Kíli had once mentioned something about Tauriel having been orphaned as a child, but Dís had never asked. She wondered if there was someone still in the Woodland Realm who loved her, feared for her, someone else who would be stroking her hair now if she were home.

"Here," said a gruff voice, making her jump, but it was only Thorin.

"What are you doing on your feet?" she asked wearily, and he scowled slightly.

"My wounds have been tended. And I am offering you tea."

"Oh…" Dís blinked, and then reached up and took the offered cup in her free hand, relishing the warmth of the china. "Thank you."

"It's the lavender one," he added unnecessarily, for he had steeped it long and the smell was pleasantly strong. "Óin said that it is important for you to keep your stress down, where you can."

The urge wail rose fiercely within her at the name of her cousin, but Dís swallowed it and smiled sadly, nodding her thanks to her brother. He nodded back, passing Bilbo another steaming cup, which the hobbit accepted gratefully.

It was not like Thorin to do a tea run, though it was not unheard of, but then he cleared his throat Dís' heart sank. Of course, she thought bitterly. Of course he'd butter us up before bad news…

"Now that everyone is safe as they can be, I am going to have a bite to eat to fortify my blood, and I then I am going to return to the battle. Any of you who are able are welcome to join me."

Her heart twisted painfully. "Thorin-"

Thorin held up his hand, but it was a resigned, noble sorrow in his eyes, not stubbornness or pride or even guilt. "This is our kingdom, Dís, and I am its king. Who will fight for the city if not I? I must return to the fighting, or I have less right than a worm to rule."

Dís shook her head, putting her tea on the floor beside her. "But you are injured – in three places! No one would contest that you tried-"

Thorin crouched before her as if they were children again, and she was still so small that he had to stoop to meet her eye. His hand fell to her hair, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, before resting his own forehead against hers. "I will not hide here, Dís, but I promise, I will do everything in my power to make it back to you. Everything."

Turning her face away, Dís closed her eyes on her tears, but she also reached up, wrapping her arms tightly around her noble, stupid big brother. "You better," she whispered, so quietly that only he could hear here. "I don't know how to raise a baby without you."

Thorin stiffened, and then he hugged her back almost painfully tight, and she bit back a whimper.

"Please, Uncle, make sure you do eat something first," said Kíli, a hollow reservation in his voice. "I've some sausage rolls in the kitchen."

Thorin bowed at his nephew and headed into the kitchen, and Dís took up her teacup in a trembling hand, returning to stroking Tauriel's hair with the other.

She had almost reached the bottom of the cup when Tauriel stirred again, her eyebrows knitting together as she turned her face towards Dís. She blinked once, twice, and then her eyes opened, a little bleary, but coherent, and Dís' heart rose with a shuddering hope.

"Tauriel," she murmured, and the elf moved her head in the slightest hint of a nod.

"Dís," she breathed. "Elbeth?"

"She's alive," promised Dís. "But she hasn't woken, not yet. We haven't been able to give her any tonic…"

Tauriel's voice was quiet as a whisper, but Dís could still hear the humour within it. "That's lucky. Tasted foul…"

Dís laughed slightly. "Well I'm sorry, my dear but it's the best we had."

"Told Thorin… dwarven healers means doom," she said, but there was a faint smile on her cheeks, and Dís smiled back.

"You hush. We cannot all heal our wounded with a magic song and some starlight."

Tauriel's smile grew a little and she nodded at Dís. "Are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm fine," Dís assured her, her heart swelling at the elf's concern, even as she felt a twang of guilt that she ever deemed elves to be cruel and selfish.

"The babies?"

"Well, I believe," said Dís, her hand automatically coming down to rest on her growing bump. "I must say, I'm still getting used to the idea of there being two of them."

Tauriel paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Two?"

Dís nodded, smiling wearily. "Twins. Thora heard two heartbeats, just yesterday."

Confusion carved deeper into Tauriel's brow, and she stared at Dís with such bafflement that Dís herself became confused. Twins were hardly an unknown phenomenon, and she was sure that Tauriel had said 'babies.'

But the elf shook her head slightly, staring at Dís as though she had never seen her before. "You, you do not know?" Tauriel breathed, and suddenly Dís' heart dropped.

"Know what?" she asked, glancing quickly up at Bilbo, who looked utterly bewildered.

"You... you do not carry two babies," said Tauriel, her voice laboured, and her eyes shining with confusion and wonder. "You carry four."

The entire room froze. Dís could not move or breathe or even think, and the silence rang in her ears.

And then Thorin broke it, his low and trembling. There was a plate in his hand, but the sausage roll upon it was untouched, and shaking. "Tauriel, did the orcs strike your head?"

Perfectly sombre, Tauriel shook her head a little, but then she winced and held still. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, before looking back up at Dís. "I... I thought you knew. Among... among my people it...it is the greatest insult... the worst you could say... to a mother... to say she did not know... how many souls she carries..."

"And how do you think you know this, lass?" asked Balin kindly.

Tauriel frowned, as though this should all be common knowledge, and she closed her eyes. Her hand raised shakily towards Dís, resting on her stomach, and she sighed. "We, we can feel the energy... the energy of each child... it... it cannot be mistaken. Cannot be wrong..."

"It cannot be four," protested Thorin, his eyes wide with a fear that Dís had not seen for years. "Such a thing, it, it has never been heard of, it-"

"It has," said Glóin, though his voice was low and concerned. "Óin told me he had heard of such a thing only twice in our history, but in the first instance only two bairns survived. The other time…"

"What?" Thorin demanded. "The other time what, Glóin?"

Glóin looked at Dís for a moment, but then he closed his eyes. "The mother died, and all her babes beside her."

"But it's not, it's not impossible," said Kíli, though he looked positively green, and his voice trembled with fear. "In the Shire, it, it's not unheard of! Quadruplets, they, they're rare as anything but they have been born in the Shire, and survived, haven't they Bilbo? Haven't they?"

But Bilbo was staring at Dís with a look so stricken she knew he would not be moving any time soon. Instead, it was Vinca who replied.

"He's right, they have," she said, her arms hugging her waist as she leant forward. "Once in a generation, or even a dozen generations, but there have been quads that survived, and thrived, I'm sure they have. Estella, she, she told me about a group of old hobbits living down in the South Farthing. They were quadruplets, all, all born to the same woman at the same time, and they were in their nineties!"

"Four," breathed Tauriel, and all eyes returned to her. "There are… four. All strong. All strong. I thought… you knew…"

"So, elves have some magical sense then, of how many bairns they carry?" asked Dana, clicking her tongue in a valiant effort to lighten the mood, though when her eyes found Dís they were filled with horror. "Lucky bastards."

Shock was taking Dís, pulling her deeper down into bemusement and terror, as the number went around and around in her head.

Four.

Was it even possible? Triplets, she had heard of, but they were dangerous, much more dangerous than twins, and Dís had never heard of such a thing as four infants in a single womb, she had never fathomed –

How?

Four –

A tremendous crash shattered the air, loud as a dragon's roar, and all thought of numbers vanished from Dís' mind. Some of the others sprang to their feet around her, and she scrambled up herself, clutching at her bump as she stared at the door.

"What was that?" cried Bilbo, what little colour he had maintained draining out of his cheeks as he jumped to Dís' side, grabbing her arm so tight that it hurt. "Was, was that an explosion?"

"They must have the flash-flames inside," said Thorin, flinging his plate down onto Kíli's bedside table and limping urgently to the door. Another booming explosion came from outside, and then a third scarcely a moment later, and Thorin swore loudly, hobbling out of Kíli's chambers as fast as his injured leg would carry him. The guards were at his heels, and Glóin, Balin and Dana beside them, and after sharing a quick look of horror, Dís and Bilbo ran after them.

"Wait there, Kíli, we'll be right back!" Bilbo promised, even as they fell out of Kíli's front door and into the corridor of the royal chambers.

The sound of another explosion and the shrieking of orcs came in from outside, and the guards immediately formed rank, running down the hall and forming a defensive position, with their weapons aimed at the door. Dís jogged after them, her heart pounding in her chest and her hand encased in Bilbo's, but she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye.

She turned, and saw Vinca following them out, darting across the hall to duck into Dís and Bilbo's chambers. A moment later, she returned, and in her hands were her two short, thin swords.

"Pervinca Took!" spluttered Bilbo, his cheeks turning from stark white to blood red. "If you think for one moment that you're going to run off into battle, young lady-"

"I'm not running anywhere, Uncle Bilbo," she replied, her voice steady and strong. "If they have those flash-flames inside, if they blow down the doors, I won't run them either. I'll fight until I fall."

Bilbo let out an odd little whimper holding out his hand and then pressing his knuckles to his mouth, and Dís shivered.

"It won't come to that darling," she murmured, even as another explosion wrought the air, nearer this time, shaking the ground beneath them. "You're wounded, Vinca, go back inside."

"I ache," said the hobbit, somehow managing to make her voice both soft and firm at the same time. "That's all. My head feels like that bell is still striking it, and yes my stomach is a little off, but as long as I can stand, I will."

There was another boom, and the corridor shuddered. Bilbo yelped and Dís gasped, her heart lurching as the babes within her kicked.

"Bilbo, Dís, get inside!" ordered Thorin, hidden somewhere in the throng of dwarves before them. "Go back to Kíli's room, shut the door. It will hold long enough, I promise."

A sudden, awful thought struck Dís in the chest, and she paused, refusing to let Bilbo pull her back inside. "Don't you dare open that door, Thorin son of Thrain!"

"I'm not going to open the door!" he yelled back, and she could almost hear his eyes rolling.

A sudden cry split the air behind them and Dís turned, her eyes drawn at once to the statue of Durin that hid the secret exit from the royal chambers. One of the guards she had sent to secure it burst out from behind the statue, his eyes wide as he opened his mouth to yell.
"Or-"

The black blade of a scimitar burst out from his chest, cutting off his final cry, and Dís gasped, her eyes widening.

"Orcs!" she cried, frantically, grappling at the empty space beside her hip and realising with a start the she had left her sword in Kíli's bedroom.

With a shrieking cry, the orcs threw aside the guard's body and swarmed into the far end of the royal chambers. When they caught sight of Dís and the others they let out great screeches of triumph and glee and charged – and in the closing gap between the dwarves and orcs stood Kíli's open door.

Her eyes flickered towards it, and the orcs followed her gaze, and their eyes glittered with malice, and several of them veered towards the door. Dís knew that even if she sprinted, she would never be able to make it, there was no way that she could close the door –

Kíli was inside, her Kíli, her baby, and he could not move from his bed.

A face appeared in the doorway, pale and afraid, and Dís screamed so loudly that her throat seared.

"Aria, close the door, do it now!"

To her relief, the girl obeyed, swinging shut Kíli's door even as the weapons of the orcs crashed upon it. A couple lingered by the door, pounding viciously at the stone, but most continued the charge, even as the Thorin and the guards scrambled to rally, to put themselves between Dís and the orcs.

Before they had a chance to get there, Vinca sprang forward with a war cry that seemed to shake the very walls, a roar so vicious that the orcs faltered in their tracks. Those overwhelmed by surprise were the first to fall to her blades, thin, short swords she wielded with a grace and skill learnt from Fíli. She spun into the swarm of orcs like a dancer into a ballroom, turning and twirling so that the skirt of her nightdress swayed beneath her coat.

Pride and fear punched Dís straight in the heart, but even as she watched her view was cut by Glóin and Balin pushing past her, and Dana taking a stance as a shield before her. Even as guilt pricked at Dís' heart, she felt the babies kicking, painfully strong, and she wrapped her arm around her stomach. Bilbo stepped forward beside Dana, Sting glowing bright blue in the dim light of the hall, and the guards formed rank around Dís.

The orcs' eyes were fixed upon her, violent and hungry, burning with the desire to murder a child who had never yet drawn breath, and they swarmed at the guard with all the force they could muster. Steadying herself as best she could, Dís shifted back her feet into a fighting pose, raising up her arms ready to fight. Two babies kicked at once, and a moment later there was another explosion, and the hallway shook again. An aching, stabbing pain shot across Dís' gut, but she ignored it, refusing to let her back bow.

She had babies to protect, and for them she would fight until the ends of the earth, for as long as there was strength within her.

As it was, however, she hardly made a single strike. Bilbo, Dana and the guards had created an impenetrable wall around her, and further into the hallway Thorin and Vinca were tearing their way through the ranks of orcs, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake.

With a tremendous screech, an orc flung himself up into the air, vaulting off of a dying comrade and throwing himself at Dís, sword raised to strike. Her arms shot up in a cross before her head, but before the blow fell Bilbo span around, striking upwards and skewering the orc on Sting's short blade. With a startled squawk, the orc slid down the blade, but as it did, it struck out with its sword, smashing the weapon into Bilbo's temple.

And the hobbit crumpled.

Dís could barely hear her scream as it tore from her throat, and she pushed the dying goblin away, grabbing at her husband as he fell. His eyes were closed, and his mouth ajar, and his body was limp in her arms.

"No, no, Bilbo!" she cried, pulling him back towards the wall as Dana sealed the hole he had left in their ranks. "Wake up, Bilbo, please, wake up!"

He did not stir, but she could see him breathing, and she sobbed, struggling to keep Bilbo upright around her swollen stomach as fear began to squeeze the air from her lungs. A memory rose within her, so strong that she could see it – she could see Finn lying cold and still and dead on a great stone dais, she could see the stone of his coffin closing over his head, and she could feel the crippling grief that had torn through her heart and soul as strong as that day so many years ago.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she willed her body to do something, to fight or flee, or try to wake him, but it was as if her entire being was frozen. She could not speak, or move, or breathe – all she could do was pray, desperately and silently begging with the Valar not to take her husband, not again.

Please, please, no, no, no, please don't take him, please – not again, please, I can't do this again, I can't lose him, not Bilbo, not Bilbo, please, please not Bilbo, please, not Bilbo, please, please –

Not Bilbo -

Not him -

Not my One -

Please…

"Here, Dís, give him to me," said Glóin, and she jumped violently, looking over at her cousin. As suddenly as the battle had begun, it had ended, and the orcs lay dead around them. There seemed to only have been fifty or sixty of them. Several of the guards were bleeding, and one seemed to be unconscious, but everyone else was still standing.

Everyone, except Bilbo.

"Dís!" repeated Glóin urgently, easing the hobbit's body from her arms before she could form an answer. "We have to get him inside, he'll be alright, now."

She shook her head slightly, reaching after him, but another cramping pain shot through her and she moaned, doubling over.

At once, there was an arm around her, drawing her close and easing her upright.

"Breathe, nan'ith, breathe," Thorin murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair even as he began to guide her back to Kíli's room. "You tell those babes it isn't time yet, they must wait. Breathe with me now, breathe. Breathe."

For herself, Dís wanted to scream, but for her babies she tried, drawing in a breath as deep as she could manage. She heard the others reach the bedroom, heard Kíli's frightened scream.

"Bilbo!"

Her knees buckled beneath her and she moaned, falling into her brother's side. His other arm wrapped around her, and she buried her face in his neck.

"I – I can't do it, Thorin," she whimpered. "I can't – not, not again, I-"

"You won't," promised Thorin, but she could hear his voice choking around a lump in his throat. "Bilbo is strong, Dís, stronger than any of us. Come on, you must sit down, now. You cannot afford so much stress."

She gave a hollow laugh, but then her mind turned to Óin and she froze again, a sob escaping her throat. Thorin held her closer.

"He'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Outside, another explosion rang out. The battle was still raging on.

"I won't let the filth near you, near any of you," Thorin swore, steering her carefully through Kíli's quarters.

"Amad?" cried Kíli, his voice tight with fear. "Uncle Thorin?"

"We're scaring him," she realised, shuddering lightly. Thorin nodded, and guided her into the bedroom, and a little of the fear bled out from Kíli's eyes. Just a little.

"Amad? Are you, are you hurt?" Kíli cried, his arms already tightly wrapped around Bilbo's chest. The hobbit's head was cradled in his lap, and Glóin was hunched over him, his fingers pushed into the side of Bilbo's neck to take his pulse.

"No, I… I…"

"Sit down," said Thorin, rather unnecessarily, given that he was already leading her into a chair. He put his hands on her shoulders for a moment and then glanced at Bilbo. Though his jaw clenched in anger, she could see fear in his eyes, and she whimpered, burying her head in her hands.

"I am going to go and see how they got in," said Thorin. "That should have been impossible. Balin, Mikel, Colburn, I want you with me. The rest of you, stay here. Lock the door behind us and do not open it until we return, unless you have no other possible choice. Do you understand me?"

"We understand," said Vinca, nodding sombrely, though she was paler than a ghost and trembling from head to toe.

Thorin stared at her for a moment, and then paused, taking her arm and quickly guiding her to the end of Kíli's bed. "Sit," he ordered, and when she did so he took her swords from her hand and put them aside. "I am proud of you, Pervinca," he said quietly. "You did well, but in a minute the adrenalin is going to start to fade. It's going to be hard – you will feel sick and sore, and the concussion will make itself known, so I need you to remain calm. That's very important."

Vinca nodded, a dazed look in her eyes, and Thorin stood tall, nodding at the others.

"Kíli, lad, I need you to look after your mother, now."

Kíli bowed his head grimly, and Dís pressed her hand to her mouth, trying desperately to calm her breathing, to be as brave as her son. Thorin looked at her and opened his mouth, and then he shook his head slightly.

"Farewell," he murmured, and then he was gone.

Phew, that wasn't an easy chapter to write! Quite a bit going on there, and no one's out of the woods just yet! I would love to know what you think, so please do leave a review if you are so inclined!

As a side note, I know that in the context of such a story (fantasy, many canon-dead characters being alive) a character being pregnant with quadruplets may seem hokey or unbelievable or the like, and I hope that that isn't how it comes across here. It's not a spur of the moment decision, has been building for a long time and has more to offer the plot yet. Also, I've done a fair bit of research and have a midwife for a mother, and have come to the conclusion that it is entirely possible for healthy quads to – potentially – be born in middle earth. As ever, if you are particularly concerned with/triggered by topics such as pregnancy, complications or even miscarriage, please send me a PM and I'll let you know any spoilers that you wish to know, if that helps.

I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I hope it won't be too long for you. Thank you for reading, and until the next time, please take care!