Hello again! Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter, I'm glad that you all enjoyed it! Here's the next one - just a little snippet of a chapter, I'm afraid, but as I'm back at work it's a little trickier to write at the moment. In any case, I hope you can forgive any typos I make, and that you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: The Choosing of the Names

There was someone stroking her hair, humming gently to her. The tune was familiar, but almost forgotten – a lullaby that Dís had not heard for years. Her mother used to sing it to her, a lifetime ago, and she could not think of the last time she had heard it. She could not remember whether or not it had words, or what it was called, but the melody was beautiful, and slow, and calm.

It was wonderful.

Slowly, it guided her back from sleep to waking, reminding her of why she ached, why she felt so tired, so empty, and it drew her awareness to the distant sound of a baby's cry.

She opened her eyes. A lamp was burning low on the bedside table, lending the room just enough light to see by, and she looked up to find Thora sitting beside her, running a hand over her hair again and again. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, and her face was pinched in grief. Dís heart twisted.

"Thora?" she whispered, her voice rasping. "Thora, the babies –"

"Are all fine," Thora murmured back, rubbing her shoulder up against her cheek and offering Dís a weak smile. "They're fine, Dís. You've been out an hour or so, so they're getting a little hungry, but they're fine. Everything's fine."

"Then what's wrong?" Dís made to sit up, but exhaustion had hollowed her body, and the echo of pain made things even more difficult. Wordlessly, Thora slipped her hands under Dís' shoulders and helped pull her upright, her lip quivering as she tried to smile.

"Nothing," she whispered. "Nothing is wrong."

"Thora…"

Thora glanced down, taking Dís' hand and squeezing it. "I – I'm so happy, Dís, so happy. I didn't – I was so afraid that this would be impossible, that there was so little hope of all the babies being born alive – let alone healthy – and I was so afraid for you, I – But Joren… Joren never doubted it was possible. He never…" She broke off, her eyes squeezing shut and her hand flying up to cover her mouth as she began to sob.

"Oh, Thora…" Dís breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around her friend. It had been more than two months since the Battle of Erebor, but that was little time when it came to so strong a grief as losing your husband – Dís knew that all too well. Especially when the bond was as strong as it was between Joren and Thora. Dís had rarely seen a happier union.

"Forgive me," Thora sobbed. "This, this is not the time, I know, but-"

"Oh, shh," Dís murmured, running her hand over her friend's hair. "There is never a bad time, not for this. I would be far more upset if you hid your grief from me." She paused, leaning her forehead against Thora's. "But… you must know that Joren is probably sitting in the Halls of Mandos right now yelling 'I told you so!' at the top of his lungs."

Thora gave a weak laugh, drawing back and digging in her pocket for a handkerchief. "Probably. And he's probably doing that, that stupid little dance of his…"

Dís smiled sadly, rubbing a thumb across Thora's cheeks. "Exactly."

They sat there together for a minute, but the sound of a baby's cry continued in the next room, and Thora took a deep breath patting her hands onto her knees. "Alright then – I think it's high time you meet your babies properly, don't you? They'll all need a feed, by now."

Excitement and elation and glee swelled in Dís' heart until she could not breathe, pushing aside all other thought and emotion and drawing a smile onto her face. She nodded, eagerly, and Thora grinned, hurrying towards the door and disappearing outside for a moment.

Then she ducked back in, and Bilbo followed her through the door.

All the stress and fear on his face melted away when he saw Dís sitting up in bed, and he beamed, rushing to her side. In his arms, wrapped in a soft, cream blanket, was a tiny baby, and he perched on the side of the bed where Thora had been, pressing a kiss to Dís' hair.

"This is our son," he said, his voice choked with tears and pride, and Dís stared down at the baby. His eyes were drooping, as though he was close to sleep, but she could see that they were blue, a deep blue, like hers. With the addition of his dark curls, he looked remarkably like Frodo. "Our youngest son."

"Hello, baby," she breathed, reaching out towards him, only to be interrupted by the increasing volume of a baby's howl as Thorin walked into the bedroom.

"Dís," he murmured, his shoulders slumping with relief as he saw her. In his arms was a wiggling, screaming baby. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than my daughter, apparently," she said, nodding towards the baby. She would have been more concerned if the crying was not quite so energetic. "What have you done to my baby, Thorin?"

"Absolutely nothing," Thorin protested, glancing down at the child in his arms with a soft, reverent smile that seemed to be reserved for babies. "She was asleep, weren't you uzbadnâtha? But then your big brother had to go and sneeze and wake you up, didn't he?"

Even as Thorin spoke, Vinca slipped through the door, walking slowly and carefully, with her eyes fixed on the baby in her arms. The third child was crying, too, and Dís could see her golden hair peeking out of the top of the blanket. Tears of joy and relief beaded on her lashes, and she held out her arms.

"This poor baby's been waiting the longest for a feed," she said, as Vinca carefully eased the baby into her arms. "You must be so hungry, my darling."

The baby wailed, her little cheeks red as roses as her face screwed up, and Dís pulled down the collar of her nightgown, lifting the child up to her breast. There was a beat, and then the baby latched on, and began to drink, and Dís let out a breathless sob.

Her daughter was feeding.

Her babies were born, and alive, and safe.

"Coming through!" Fíli called, and Dís looked up in time to see Kíli's pyjamaed legs sail through the door, followed by the rest of him a moment later. He was cradled in Fíli's arms, and tucked in his own arms was the fourth baby.

"That does not look at all safe," protested Bilbo, but even before he finished his sentence Fíli set Kíli down on the bed beside Dís, and the baby in Kíli's arms slumbered through the whole manoeuvre.

"How are you feeling, Amad?" Kíli asked, his eyes searching hers carefully, and she beamed, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

"Happier than I have ever been in my life," she murmured, tucking his hair behind his ear and then looking down at the baby snoozing in his arms. "Luckier than I have any right to be."

"You have every right to be so lucky. You deserve all the luck in the world," Kíli said firmly, leaning against her side and then wincing, sitting up straight again. There was a little too much space between them for him to press his shoulder to hers as he clearly wanted to, and Dís gave a small smile, shifting across slightly.

It jostled the feeding baby a little, but the child did not seem to mind, and Kíli's smile grew softer, and more sincere, and he snuggled up beside her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"You did a good job, Ama," he sighed happily. "A very good job."

Vinca stifled a yawn, and Dís smiled at her. "Go to bed, sweet-pea. It's all alright now, and the babies will still be here in the morning."

A weary smile passed over the young hobbit's face, but her eyes were still sparkling as she kissed Dís on the cheek.

"Just call if you need me," she said, waving at the door. "Night-night."

"I'll go and check on the elves," said Thora as Vinca left, nodding at Dís. "Let you have some time with the family."

Dís raised her eyebrows. "You are family."

Thora rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. Immediate family." She made her way out of the door, closing it gently behind her, and Thorin shifted.

It was Dís' turn to roll her eyes. "You are obviously immediate family, nadad." She gazed down at her feeding baby. "You'd think he'd've learnt by now… but no…" A strange thought ran over her, and she shivered slightly, looking from the blonde child at her breast up to Fíli, who was standing at Kíli's side with the dopiest, most wonderful smile on his face.

Catching her eye, he tilted his head to the side slightly. "What is it?"

"Thorin's had over a hundred years to learn," she said, feeling a little lightheaded as the magnitude of the number settled over her. "My oldest son is one hundred and six years older than my youngest… I'm not sure I like that…"

"You're not old, if that's what you're worried about," Kíli scoffed.

"I am, for a mother of a new-born," protested Dís gently, leaning her cheek against his head. "But I am not elderly. I'll allow you that."

"If you think that age difference is bad, try being two decades younger than your son," protested Bilbo, gently rocking the baby in his arms. "At least I won't have to worry about that with you, my lad."

There was a comfortable pause, one that might have been a quiet if not for the wail of the baby in Thorin's arms. Then, with a yawn, Fíli clambered onto the end of the bed by his brother's feet, and nodded up at the feeding baby. "She's obviously mine, this one. There's only two of us blondes in the family, we must stick together."

"No one is claiming any babies," said Bilbo firmly, interrupting Kíli's spluttered protest. "They are ours. They are all ours."

There was a beat, and then Thorin murmured, "What are you going to name them?"

A lump rose in Dís' throat, swift and sudden, and she looked down at the baby on her breast. In all truth, she had not thought much of names. She had been so certain that she would lose one of the babies, or two, or three, or all of them – or that she herself would not survive – thinking of names had been too frightening, too painful.

"I think," said Bilbo softly, and she could hear tears hidden in his voice, "that I would like them to have names that start with F and K. Two of each, perhaps. That way you will all tie together nice and dwarvishly – you two boys, and Frodo, and the babies."

Dís smiled up at him, tears beading on her eyelashes. "I think that's a splendid idea. But I want them to have names that would seem right both here, and in the Shire. They belong to both worlds, and I want them to know that."

"There aren't many hobbit names that start with a K," said Kíli thoughtfully. "But perhaps… Well, Bilbo's Grandmother's name was Laura, and we've a cousin called Dora – so what about Kora?"

Dís glanced at Bilbo, and the blissful smile he was sending Kíli told her all she needed to know. "That sounds like a good name," she murmured.

"Plus, it rhymes with 'roarer,' so it fits quite well for our little wailer over there," said Kíli happily, nodding towards the baby crying in Thorin's arms.

"Pay no attention to him, mizimith," Thorin crooned, angling the baby away from Kíli. "He cries just as loudly when he's hungry." He paused. "I like Kora."

"She will be Kora," Dís said, her happiness rising impossibly higher.

"Then this little one should have the other K name," said Fíli, pointing up at the baby slumbering in Kíli's arms. "She looks identical to Kora, at least to me – it makes sense that their names should match."

Thorin broke his gaze away from the baby, staring at Fíli for a moment, and then at Dís. "What about Kída?"

Memory stirred in Dís' heart, and she smiled slightly. "I didn't know you remembered that…" Catching Bilbo and Kíli's confusion, she added, "That was what Fíli wanted to call you, Kíli, if you were a girl."

Thorin's mouth twitched into a small smile. "He was very insistent. It was not the sort of thing you could forget."

"It's a beautiful name," said Bilbo, glancing at Dís, and she nodded, peering down at the baby in question.

"Kída," she breathed, and the baby gave a little sigh, shifting in Kíli's arms.

"She likes it!" Kíli murmured, leaning down to kiss the baby's nose. "Kída…"

Bilbo pressed another kiss to Dís' hair, and she glanced at him. He looked utterly exhausted, but his eyes were shining, and he met her eyes with a surprising solemnity.

"For the baby boy," he said slowly, glancing down at the baby before looking back up at her. "I wondered if… well, if you might want to call him Finn."

Surprise stole Dís' breath and her eyes widened. "Finn?"

Bilbo nodded seriously. "Yes – if it isn't too painful, of course, I imagine it could be – but he was Fíli and Kíli's father, and I've never wanted to erase that. He was your best friend, after all. I know how much you loved him, and I've heard of how great a person he was, and… and – well, I would be honoured to name my son after him."

For a moment, Dís could not find the breath to speak. She felt tears roll down her cheeks, and sniffed, and then she swallowed. "You – you would really do that?"

Bilbo smiled, a sad, sombre sort of smile. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it."

Dís looked up at Fíli quickly. Surprise lingered in his eyes, but he was smiling, and when he caught her gaze he nodded.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," he said, his voice catching slightly on unshed tears.

"Then his name shall be Finn," Dís whispered, staring down at her tiny son. In her mind, she wondered what her late husband's reaction would have been, and immediately she grinned. He would have loved it. She sighed, a happy, if bittersweet sigh, and turned her eyes down to the baby on her breast. "That just leaves you, my little one. By all rights you probably ought to have been named first, but I'm afraid things are always a little complicated in this family…"

"So another F name…" Fíli mused. "Freya?"

Dís shook her head slightly. There was a courtier in the Iron Hills named Freya, whose snobbery and insufferable arrogance had ruined the name for her forever. It was a shame – she had rather liked it before. "No, it doesn't suit her…"

"Flora?" Bilbo suggested, but he did not sound particularly convinced as he said it, and Dís' lips twisted towards a frown.

"You know," said Kíli thoughtfully. "That little birthmark, on her arm – it looks an awful lot like a foxglove-"

"No," said Thorin sharply, tearing his eyes away from Kora. "Absolutely not – you cannot name a child Foxglove – it's a plant name, not a person name!"

"Pimpernel is a plant name," Fíli commented. "And Pervinca is just another term for periwinkle, and Eglantine means wild rose-"

"Yes, but they sound like names, real names," Thorin protested, and to Dís' amusement he sounded rather stressed by the prospect of a name like 'Foxglove.'

Kíli rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to suggest calling the baby Foxglove. What I was going to say, before you and Fee interrupted me, is that in Lake-town and New Dale, they call Foxglove 'Ffion.'"

"Ffion," Dís repeated slowly. It was an unfamiliar word, but she liked the sound of it, and it fit nicely with Finn. She smiled slightly, glancing up at Bilbo. "What do you think?"

"I like it," said Bilbo, a small, sheepish smile on his face. "I like it very much."

Dís raised her eyebrows at her brother. "Does it fit your oh so strict dwarven standards, Thorin?"

Thorin rolled his eyes at a still-crying Kora. "It's not about my standards. It's about not giving a child the name of a common plant. But yes, I like it."

"Then you shall be Ffion, my darling," Dís murmured, leaning down to kiss her daughter's forehead. The baby stared back at her, her eyes the exact same shade and shape as Bilbo's. Bilbo was right – she certainly had his eyes.

And, like both her sisters and all of her brothers, she had every last inch of Dís' heart.

I hope you enjoyed that chapter, and that the ending wasn't too cheesy for you! The birth of a new baby is just something so wholesome and wonderful, and it's hard to do it justice in text without being corny. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it, and do let me know what you thought!

Until next time, I hope you all stay safe, and take care!