Hey! I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter – it was immensely difficult for me to write, as the final chapters of things often are, for me, and life has been rather crazy recently – though I'm sure it's been just as crazy for most of you. Thank you for your reviews and your reading and your patience – I hope you enjoy the final chapter of this story.
Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: A New Dawn Rises
Humming softly beneath his breath, Kíli hugged his sleeping sister close, using his other arm to move his wheelchair back and forth. The quads all seemed to like it when the chair was in motion, and in the two months since their birth he had perfected the art of tucking them against his chest with one arm while manoeuvring the wheels with the other.
He had mastered many things about his wheelchair. He could go fast, now, very fast, and change directions smoothly and swiftly – he could even spin on the spot until he was so dizzy he could barely breathe. It made Bolin and Bowin shriek with laughter when he did. The strength was rebuilding well in his arms, enough so that he could even get himself in and out of the chair without too much effort. Thorin had also had the bathroom in Kíli's chambers adapted, and while he still needed a little help on occasion, Kíli could usually get himself in and out of the bath, or onto the toilet. Slowly, his independence was seeping back to him. It was getting easier to make his way around the mountain, too. They were still in the process of building a ramp up to the royal chambers, so he could not actually get to the rest of the city without help, but for the most part Erebor was full of as many ramps as it was staircases, so getting around was not too hard.
He had also been down to the archery range several times – lowering the back of the chair was almost effortless, and though it had taken a few weeks, his shooting was slowly getting back up to scratch.
Life was within his reach again.
Of course, when he was tired, it was always easier to simply call Fíli to carry him to and fro. He smiled down at the baby in his arms.
"And when you're tired, I'll always carry you to and fro, Ffion," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "It's what big brothers are for."
Baby Ffion gave a soft sigh, shifting in her sleep. Her little hand raised up, fist clenching around a lock of his hair. Even as he winced, Kíli's smile grew stronger, and he tilted his head down so that his sister could cling to his hair without tugging it clean from his head.
"I'm afraid I'll never be as good a big brother as Fíli is – he's an impossible act for anyone to follow," he said softly. "But that's alright, because you get to have him, too. Soon, Frodo will be here, and you will have all your brothers." He glanced at the window, where the sky was dusted pink by the dusk. "Very soon – maybe even tomorrow."
There was a soft knock at the door, and he glanced over his shoulder as his mother poked her head inside.
"How is she?" she whispered, and Kíli grinned.
"Soundly asleep," he said proudly. "How are you?"
Dís smiled wearily. "Soon to be soundly asleep myself, I hope. The others are all fed and sleeping now. Finally. Kora fussed for a while, but your uncle managed to calm her down. Again."
"He is her favourite." Kíli pouted down at the sleeping Ffion. "I used to be Uncle Thorin's favourite, but that's not true anymore, is it?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother rolling her own eyes. "You know your uncle doesn't have favourites."
"…and that even if he did, it would be Frodo," Kíli added, his grin breaking through his frown. "I suppose Frodo is going to be the one to figure out how to be the middle child, now, and how to cope with being replaced as a favourite."
"Oh, hush," his mother said, walking over and poking Kíli's nose. "You're far too old to be talking such nonsense."
Kíli smiled, easing his sister up in their mother's arms. For all the things he could do in his wheelchair, putting the quads safely into their cribs was not one of them. "Is Fíli back yet?"
His mother's smile softened, and she shook her head. "No, there's no sign of him, yet."
Kíli grinned. Fíli had been spending a lot of time with Tura recently – this was the third evening in two weeks that they had taken dinner together. Kíli quite liked her – she was calm and kind, and clever, too. That was important. Fíli needed someone clever, someone he could debate with, who would keep him on his toes.
Once, perhaps whispers would have run around the mountain at the crown prince spending so much time with a woman who had an infant child and no husband to speak of, but ever since his actions during the Battle for Erebor Fíli was all but untouchable. An old woman had actually tutted angrily at Dwalin in the marketplace the other day for teasing Fíli about a particularly fancy tunic he was wearing. By this point, Kíli was certain that his brother would need to start courting a married elf to prompt any real rumours to fly.
According to Tura, little Lula's father was dead, and as far as Erebor was concerned, that was the end of it. Kíli had noticed that she never referred to him as a husband, but Kíli never asked. He suspected that Fíli knew more, but he would not ask his brother, either. If Tura wanted him to know she would surely tell him. Otherwise, her past was none of his business.
Of course, it was still early days. Though Kíli could tell that his brother was smitten, Fíli and Tura had been speaking for but a few months.
But there was no rush. Now, they had all the time in the world.
In the distance, the mountain was looming, glowing in shades of rose and ruby beneath the evening sun. It was close now, so close that Frodo yearned to keep going, to leave their camp before it was even fully set, and just run. He wanted to sprint through the night until his legs tumbled out from beneath him, to rush and stumble all the way up to the gates. He could make it – he knew he could – and a good few hours before dawn, too.
But, with a sigh, he turned instead, sinking down to the ground by the campfire. As much as he wanted to run ahead, that would mean leaving the others behind, and he knew that they wanted to be home almost as much as he did. Orla, Ola, and Bodin were too young to be travelling all the way through the night, and Adalgrim and Daisy Took were too old.
Running off on his own would be likely to upset the younger ones, or the survivors of Mordor. For all that it had been a peaceful journey, it was hard not to be tense on the road after all they had lived through. At one point, Bróin had disappeared into the woods to relieve himself without warning, and his younger brother's panic spilled out in tears that lasted nearly an hour. Not that any sign of such panic could be seen now – Bodin was helping Bróin with the evening meal, tucked up against his brother's side.
There were quite a few survivors of Mordor travelling with them. Red and Rín were among them, though that was likely because they now seemed intent to follow the sons of Elrond wherever they went, and there were several dwarves who sought to settle in Erebor. All of that, Frodo had expected, but there were men and elves among the group too, heading for New Dale. It had been a great surprise to Frodo that men and women who were born and raised in Gondor would want to leave their home as soon as they returned to it. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it had been Aragorn to explain it to him.
"You have given them hope, Frodo. They may not have any family left in Gondor, or any home to return to. It may even be that their memories of Gondor are nothing more than recollections of capture and torment. You set them free – you represent a new life that they do not want to lose."
Whether or not that was the case, Frodo certainly thought it was a hopeful idea. A new life. A fresh start. Most of the elves they had rescued were still in Gondor, having chosen to travel with Elrond and his people to the Undying Lands to heal there, but there were some intending to stay in Middle Earth, to settle in New Dale or Mirkwood or Lothlorien, and the knowledge of that filled Frodo with a warm hope for himself.
If elves who had been imprisoned and tortured for centuries thought they had a chance to heal and live and grow without leaving Middle-Earth, then there was a chance for him, too. The weight of his failures might one day lift, feel as forgivable as Gandalf framed them.
Somehow, with Erebor standing so proud, so close, Frodo thought he might be able to survive even if they did not. With his family beside him, he would be able to survive anything.
They passed by New Dale at noon, and as they did a group on wolves and ponies rode of from the mountain to meet them.
A giddy glee filled Nelly's heart as she saw the Nori's familiar outline, the petite silhouette of her sister, the gold gleam of Fíli's hair under sun. She saw Glóin digging his heels into his pony's sides, urging it on faster, and Bombur eagerly flicking the reins of a pony almost as wide as he was, and Bofur's hat flying off his head as he egged the wolf he rode ever faster.
Orla, Ola, and Bolin shrieked, leaping down from the wagon and sprinting out to meet their father, and after a moment Bróin let out a laugh and followed them. Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry and Pearl leapt after them, running with the wild eagerness of children. Beaming, Nelly scratched behind Toothy's ears and dismounted. She knew their letters had warned Erebor of the friendly warg, but she still thought charging towards the others on his back may not be the best idea.
Moving as fast as her ankle and crutch would allow, Nelly hurried forward herself, but it did not matter that she was slower than the others, because Nori was faster, and he leapt from the back of the wolf mid-stride, and then he was there. She threw her arms around his neck and his arms closed around her waist and lifted her up as they always did, but to her surprise he didn't spin her around. Instead, Nori clutched her close, his grip almost painfully tight.
And he did not say a word.
"Nori," she said, and he held on tighter, running a hand over the back of her hair. She started to smile, but then she heard him sniff, and she stiffened. "Nori? Nori, are you crying?"
Nori sniffed again, easing his grip a little to set her back down on her feet and look down at her face. Sure enough, there were tears in his eyes and on his cheeks, and there was no hint of a smile on his face as he tucked her hair behind her ears. "You scared the shit out of me, kid," he said hoarsely, but then he did smile, and he tugged her back against his chest. "I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you."
Nelly laughed slightly, but it caught in her throat and tears sprang to her own eyes. She twisted her hands into the back of Nori's tunic. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too," Nori swore at once, gripping her tighter. "So much. When the uruk-hai came I thought – damn, Nelly, I thought… I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so glad you're alright."
"You too," Nelly murmured.
Nori shuddered, and then he set her down on the ground, pulling back for a moment. "Here," he said gruffly, digging into his pocket and pulling out a small, silk pouch.
Nelly eased it open, and smiled. Inside was a very familiar gold necklace – one she had not seen since the uruk-hai snatched it away from her in Orthanc. "Thank you, Nori."
With a wordless nod, Nori pulled her back into his arms, resting his chin on her head. "I love you, kid."
Nelly beamed, tucking her arms around Nori tightly. "I love you, too."
Waiting in the Company Room for his family to come up was nothing short of torturous for Bilbo, but he shook his head firmly every time Dís or Kíli laughed and suggested he go downstairs to meet them.
"If you two have to stay here, I can stay as well," he said firmly, jogging Finn on his hip. The youngest of his sons gurgled happily, taking his hand from his mouth to pat it against Bilbo's cheek. "Oh, thank you Finn, yes that's lovely," Bilbo said, rolling his eyes and wiping his cheek on his shoulder, though he could not help but smile too, and plant a kiss on his son's head.
"Yes, but we have to stay here," Kíli pointed out, smiling goofily down at Kora as he shifted his wheelchair back and forth. He had volunteered to wait with his mother and the babies, given the time it took to get his chair up and down the stairs to the Royal Chambers. "You could just run down, maybe meet them halfway back."
"He's not wrong, but it doesn't matter now. I can hear noise at the end of the hall – they're coming," Dís said with a smile, lowering Ffion into one of the basinets against the far wall beside Kida. Almost at once, the blonde baby's arms flung out, her tiny fist clinging to Kida's, and Bilbo smiled, walking over to place Finn down beside the two girls. The baby gave a small whine of protest, but only until Kida's little fist reached out to curl around his wrist. Then, with a smile, Finn settled, his legs kicking joyfully in the air.
Bilbo turned towards the door, his heart racing in excitement as he heard the incoming footsteps and voices, and snatches of laughter he had not heard for what felt like an age. Behind him, he was vaguely away of Dís putting Kora in the crib to free Kíli's hands, but all he could do was stare at the door –
And it opened –
And Frodo poked his head through.
Grinning even as he sobbed, Bilbo lurched forward and snatched his nephew into the room, crushing him against his chest.
"Frodo," he whispered, relief settling bone deep as the boy clung to him. "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo…"
"Bilbo," Frodo whimpered back, pressing his face against Bilbo's shoulder. He was shivering, but he was here, and he was alive, and Bilbo pressed a kiss onto the top of his head, running a hand over his son's curls.
"You're home," Bilbo said, and he smiled even as his voice cracked. "You're home now, Frodo, you're home. It's alright now, my boy. It's alright. You're home."
Vaguely, Bilbo was aware of the others cheering and laughing and crying around him, of the tangle of hugs and kisses and greetings that filled the room to the brim, but all he knew was Frodo in his arms, Frodo here, safe. His sons were all safe. His sons were all here.
"I'm sorry," Frodo whispered into his shoulder, so quiet Bilbo almost missed it. "I'm –"
"No," Bilbo insisted, pulling back just far enough to make Frodo reach his eyes. "No, Frodo. Don't be sorry. You did wonderfully. Don't apologise. Not to me."
A weak smile tugged at Frodo's lips, and Bilbo felt his eyes fill with tears. There were dark circles beneath the young hobbit's eyes, and his cheeks were just a little too sunken.
"You haven't been sleeping," he murmured, running his thumb over Frodo's cheek to wipe away the tear that lingered there. "Don't worry, my boy. We'll fix that soon enough. Here. Come and meet your brother and sisters."
Wonder dawned in Frodo's eyes and he nodded eagerly, beaming as Bilbo led him over to the basinets. All around them, their family were greeting each other, laughing and together and whole, and the moment Frodo laid eyes on the little quads his face lit up so brightly Bilbo's heart sang.
His family were here, and they were together, and together they would heal.
Together, they would be alright.
Well, I hope you've enjoyed this story! It's been an awful long time writing it – in fact, I started Strangers Like Me over seven years ago, so Kíli Baggins has been part of my life for the better part of a decade! I'm so grateful for all the love and support I've received for this story, and I will be forever. I think I'm going to take a break from Hobbit fanfic for a while, but if you really want to see a particular scene related to this story, leave a review or send me a message, and if I can I'll write a one-shot to pop in 'The Living Years' story.
Thank you so much for reading to the end of this behemoth story. I wish you all the best for the future.
Much love, Hobbsy3