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Amad = official word for mother

Ama = mommy

Adad = official word for Father

Ada = daddy

Ugmil'adad = official word for Grandfather

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Chapter 5

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At the mention of the lad's name, each dwarf reacted in one way or another. All were keenly aware that Fili and Kili's sire had been called Flinn, for the lads, as well as princess Dis, spoke of him often. This, coupled with the uncanny resemblance to Fili, was far too strange to be a mere coincidence, and they all began to sputter and murmur amongst themselves – everyone, that is, except Thorin.

Flinn, who was startled by their reaction, stepped backwards, afraid that he might have done something wrong, offending the five male dwarves before him. He had been polite, just as his mother had instructed, and yet his words had seemed to upset, rather than please.

Seeing the lad's fear, Thorin held up his hand, immediately silencing his comrade's exchange. He then went down on one knee, bringing himself closer to eye level with the unsure dwarfling.

"Flinn, you say?" Thorin asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady and calm, when inside he was anything but. "That is a very fine name, lad. A family name perhaps?"

Thorin's question, and personal interest, seemed to ease the child's fears, and Flinn brought himself up to full height, sticking his little chest out with pride.

"My Ugmil'adad's name," he informed them, using the Khuzdul word for grandfather. His mother had told him that much at least. "Who are you? What's your name?"

"Flinn!" Rogan said in a warning tone, unsure if the boy was offering offense with his impolite questioning. "You need to show more respect, for this is…" Yet the master of Himros never got to finish his introduction, for the dark haired dwarf cut him off.

"Thorin," he replied, purposefully omitting his title. "My name is Thorin, and I hail from the mountain kingdom of Erebor." He waited, watching the child's eyes closely to see if there was any hint of recognition, yet he saw nothing other than genuine delight.

"Erebor?" Flinn all but squealed. "I've saw that on a map! My amad showed me. She showed me the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills too. That is where all the dwarves live!"

"That is right, laddie," Balin nodded, bending forward a bit, since his tired, old legs would not suffer him to kneel down like Thorin. "And what does your adad have to say on the subject?" Knowing that everyone was now eagerly awaiting his reply.

Here the little dwarf looked downward, his smile fading and a blush of embarrassment covering his cheeks. Rogan, knowing this was a sensitive subject, interjected on Flinn's behalf.

"The boy lives with his mother only," he informed them, doing his best not to offend the little dwarf…or the big ones. He then lowered his voice a bit, adding softly. "He does not have a father."

"I do too!" Flinn was quick to object, his head coming up and his blue eyes flashing with conviction. "He is a great warrior! He is off fighting, but he will come home soon, Ama said so! I will get to see him when I am this many fingers," he held out his tiny hand, splaying out each digit to indicate the number five.

"And how many fingers are you now, lad?" Thorin asked, holding his breath as he waited for his reply.

"This many," Flinn informed him, taking his other hand and folding down his thumb carefully.

A mental picture was taking shape in Thorin's mind, the only one that might logically explain what he was seeing before him.

"And may I ask, what is your amad's name?" Thorin pressed, knowing that the lad's next words would hold the final piece to this mysterious puzzle.

Flinn wrinkled his brow as if he was not understanding what Thorin was getting at. "Ama," he responded, for in truth, that is what he had always called her.

"Her name is Sier," Rogan supplied, a slight grin on his face over the child's misunderstanding. "She works at my brother's tailor shop, and does a very fine job of it, too."

Hearing this, Thorin closed his eyes and released a deep breath, so it was true. For it was impossible to forget the events that took place five years ago; the plot against Fili, the hidden scandal, and the runaway dwarrowdam…who had apparently finally been located. Standing up, on now shaking legs, Thorin stared down at the mirror image of his beloved nephew, knowing without a doubt who now stood before him.

"Well, Flinn, son of Sier," he said in a low voice. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you…at last."

Another awkward moment of silence followed, where Rogan thought it best that the children depart, offering the adults the ability to speak freely.

"Anders, why don't you take your games outside," he suggested, though there was no doubt his words were meant to be taken as an order. "And Mace, make sure Flinn gets home safely, you know how his mother worries."

"Yes, Uncle," the young boy nodded, taking hold of Flinn's arm and pulling him along, following the others. The little dwarf went willingly, but before disappearing out the door, he pulled away, turning back and waving enthusiastically at the still stunned group.

"Nice to meet you, Mister Thorin," he hollered, before lifting his sword over his head and chasing after the other boys with a fierce battle cry.

Not a word was spoken, yet the looks the five dwarves now shared said it all. Rogan, who was no fool, was quick to assess the situation.

"I am willing to bet that those looks of shock you are currently wearing has more to do with seeing the lad, than your surprise at finding two dwarves living in a city of men," the master began, eyeing his guests thoughtfully. "Am I to assume you know the boy's mother…or perhaps his father?"

Thorin, whose trust was not so easily won, cleared his throat and the stern and stoic look returned to his kingly face.

"This remains to be seen, and I will not discuss such matters until I have been given the opportunity to speak to the dwarrowdam in question," he informed the man. "Perhaps you might call your foreman to take Bofur to inspect the mines, and inform us as to where we might find this tailor shop you mentioned."

Rogan studied the dwarf king for a moment and then nodded in agreement, gesturing to a servant who stood nearby to go fetch the man in question. Once he was gone, he turned back to Thorin, his eyes troubled slightly.

"I would ask that you promise me something, from one leader to another," he began tentatively.

"I am listening," Thorin nodded, unsure what was about to be requested of him.

"I would not dare to interfere with the customs and traditions of the dwarves, nor dictate how you govern your own people, but I do ask that you give me your solemn word that you harbor no ill-will towards Sier, or her son," he entreated. "They have been excellent citizens of Himros, and dear friends to my brother and sister-in-law. I would not wish to see either come to harm or distress, should I agree to direct you to where they can be found."

Thorin knew that this request did not come lightly, that by asking such a thing, Rogan understood that he might be endangering the negotiations with Erebor. Yet out of concern, and apparent affection, for the dwarrowdam and her son, he dared risk it. This told the king much about the character of Sier, as did the way her son had spoken to him moments ago. He no longer held any doubt in his mind that Flinn was Fili's son, the only question that remained was what he was going to do about it.

"The dwarves of Erebor speak only the truth," Thorin began, choosing his words carefully. "And I can tell you without reservation, that we do not harbor any animosity for the two dwarrows who reside within your city walls. In fact…our feelings towards the lass and her son are quite the opposite, and I swear that no harm will befall either of them as long as I draw breath."

This seemed to appease Rogan and a sly smile spread across his face.

"I was correct then, in assuming that you are familiar with the lad's sire?" he deduced. "And from the looks on your faces, I would hazard a guess that you hold this dwarf in high esteem."

"You are showing yourself wise beyond your years, Rogan of Himros," Thorin said with a nod of his head. "I believe it will be a great pleasure to do business with you."

"I find that I wholeheartedly agree," Rogan replied, bowing his head in return.

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Less than a half an hour later, Bofur had been sent off with the foreman to tour the mines, while the other four dwarves made their way down the streets in search of the tailor shop.

"Do you really think a child could have been conceived…after only one night together?" Balin asked, more than eager for their suspicions to be true, but as the king's advisor, it was his duty to offer debate.

"Conception has always been the purpose of that vile elixir," Thorin stated, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "To awaken a dwarf's body from sleep and sire children. Can you deny the resemblance between Fili and the lad?"

"Nay," Balin shook his head. "There is no question as to who his father must be. Yet, what will the young lassie have to say when we all arrive on her doorstep, asking about the child?"

"She will have nothing to say!" Dwalin broke in, his jaw set his usual tight grimace. "A dwarf lad belongs with his father. She has done a great wrong by keeping him from Fili!"

"From what Flinn said, she does not aim to do so forever," Ori spoke up, his timid little voice full of conviction. "She said he would see his father when he turned five."

"Still…she should not have run!" Dwalin fumed. "She had no right to hide him away from his kin!"

"Peace, Dwalin," Thorin interrupted, halting his steps and turning to look back at his three companions. "We do not know the dam's reasons nor circumstances. Yet it could not have been easy to birth and raise a dwarfling on her own - even my sister, Dis, had asked for my help in rearing the lads when they were young. Sier deserves our consideration, not our scorn. We will allow her to speak, to tell her side of things, and then we will decide what is to be done. Understood?"

Knowing that Thorin spoke wisely, the three of them nodded in agreement, allowing the group to continue on their way.

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The tailor shop turned out to be more difficult to find than expected, and twice Thorin had to double back before he came upon the correct street. Yet he knew they had found the place when they saw little Flinn, and the boy named Mace, engaged in a battle of wooden swords before a storefront. The older boy was obviously bigger, and stronger, yet Thorin noticed with a touch of pride that little Flinn refused to give up, and was holding his own. The young dwarfling was showing great courage, if not much skill, as they swung at each other with their toy weapons. The two were so engrossed in their play that they did not notice the dwarves approaching until they were directly in front of them. Halting immediately, the two boys placed their hands politely behind their backs and bowed respectfully.

"Mister Thorin! What're you doing here?" Flinn asked, his toothy grin quite infectious, causing even the hardened warrior, Dwalin, to smile in return. "Did you need a shirt or coat made?"

Thorin, not knowing exactly what to say to the child concerning his reasons for wishing to speak with his amad, decided that this was as good a reason as any.

"Yes, I do," he agreed, deciding that he would indeed have to order something now, just to keep his words from being a lie. "I was hoping to get a winter coat made. Is your amad in, by chance?"

"Yes!" Flinn nodded excitedly, spinning around and racing inside the shop, with Mace hot on his heels. The dwarves followed at a slower pace directly behind them.

Upon entering, Thorin could see all the bolts of fabric, the premade items and many drawings and sketches of things that could be created, neatly placed around the store. Behind a counter stood a man who resembled Rogan in looks, if not in stature, with a slimmer build and a thinner face which told the king that this man did not get out much. A fair looking woman with her golden hair in a neat braid down her back stood next to him, both looking quite shocked to see the four male dwarves enter the shop.

"Customers, Papa," Mace told them, as he pointed at Thorin and his three companions. "They want to have a coat made."

Yet before Omar could open his mouth to greet them, Flinn came out of the backroom, enthusiastically dragging his mother behind him.

"Flinn, what is the big surprise?" she asked, in an amused voice.

"Look, Ama! Dwarves!" her son joyfully informed her, pointing his little finger at the stern looking King Under the Mountain. "And Mister Thorin wants you to make him a coat!"

Yah...a coat...THAT is what Thorin wants. Riiiiiiiiight.

Next we will see how Sier reacts to the king's demands...for a 'coat' ha ha.

Guest Reviews:

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Dantae Ophydain: You have an account, but you have your reply to button turned off. So this is the only way to say hello to you. Thanks for reading and I am so happy you are enjoying the story. Yes, Flinn is adorable, I wish I were an artist who could draw what he looks like, but I am afraid he must remain only in my mind. Just picture Fili...but smaller. ha ha. And you just go ahead and pinch his cheeks all you want!

Mjean: I did too! This way there will be those around him that have already wrapped their minds around it all when Fili finds out. The poor darling could use the support. And really, how fun is seeing a flustered Thorin? ha ha.

Aranel Mereneth: Yah, Thorin might get lost on his way to a hobbit hole, but he can spot a kin of his a mile away. ha ha. Balin has been through sensitivity training...Thorin is 'trying' ha ha. Dwalin...well, as you can see, he still has issues. ha ha. Yah, they will have to do some serious 'damage control' here to salvage Fili and Sier's reputations.

Arveldis: Awwww, thanks! I hope you continue to enjoy it as I keep posting! ha ha, yes, no one loves a cliff hanger except the writer! But if it keeps you all coming back...(hee hee) And I will keep posting rather regularly. Two a week, sometimes three. I have a few chapters stockpiled up, but I try not to let one out unless I put one back in to replace it. I am writing rather quickly, but I have Beta readers who need to check it out first and get back to me with any mistakes. Thanks.