Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, including my unnamed guest and Hermione Granger (I'm so grateful that you liked it)
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EEEEEEKKKK, I'm so excited :D This is just too awesome guys :D In other excited news, this story has now received over half a million views. I said this in a previous chapter which I only just noticed. Apparently, chapter 23 me could not do maths and figure out that 50,000 is not half of a million *facepalms*. But anyway, THANK YOU SO MUCH, to all of you reading this! Yes, you too, even if you've actually skipped my ever waffling introductions!
Please forgive any mistakes (like my oh so eloquent 'dampener toady' in the last chapter as pointed out by a lovely reviewer) and read, enjoy and review.
Chapter One Hundred and Seven# The Sun Still Shines, the Moon Still Glows #
"…and they lived happily ever after," Thorin finished, letting Sam stare at the colourful pictures for a while before he closed the enormous book.
"Thank you, Mister Thorin," Sam sniffled, dragging his sleeve across his nose. "That was a good story."
"I am glad you like it," Thorin nodded, placing it back on his bedside table. "It was a favourite of mine when I was a boy. Would you like another drink?"
Sam nodded, hugging his legs tighter to his chest so that he could rest his knees on them. They were sitting on Thorin's bed, but the little one seemed to find it difficult to get comfortable. The king had needed to prompt Sam before the boy even propped up the pillows comfortably.
"I'll be right back-" he changed direction immediately as Sam's body jolted. Thorin grabbed the bucket by the bed and held it helpfully beneath the boy's face. The tiny hobbit retched until he choked and Thorin could not help but rub circles into Sam's trembling back, murmuring as he did so. "Ir-rûzud tanallikhi, id-nûlukh tarazzidi. Ir-rûzud tanallikhi, id-nûlukh tarazzidi…"
After several minutes of straight retching, Sam's spluttering coughs turned into crying.
"Just breathe, little one," Thorin wiped the boy's mouth with a handkerchief. "Just breathe…"
"I can feel it in my throat!" Sam sobbed, his hands wrapped around his neck. "Won't, won't go away!"
"Breathe," Thorin reminded him. "I'll go and get you some-"
"Please!" Sam gasped, terror in his eyes. "Please don't leave me, Mister Thorin, please! I can't, I can't breathe right, I-I-"
"Hush now," Thorin gently tipped the boy into the crook of his arm. "We shall go together. Just focus on breathing. In and out. In and out."
The king could feel Sam's hot, shaking breaths against his neck as he walked to the kitchen, refilled the mug of water and handed it to Sam. The boy took it eagerly, chugging it down quickly.
"Slow down," Thorin advised. "You'll upset your tummy."
Sam swallowed. "But it's already upset, Mister Thorin."
"Then we do not want to upset it anymore, do we?"
Lowering his eyes, Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"Do not be sorry, child. You've done nothing wrong." Refilling the mug, Thorin carried Sam back into his bedroom and placed him down on the bed, kicking the bucket of sick across the room so that the smell would not trigger another episode.
Sam curled up in a ball again; his knees tucked up to his chin and shivered. After a long moment, though, he whispered. "What… what did those words mean?"
"Which words, nadnith?"
"Ir…Ir roozy…"
"Ir-rûzud tanallikhi, id-nûlukh tarazzidi?"
"Yes, those words. What do they mean?"
"The sun is still shining, the moon still glows," Thorin recited gently.
Sam glanced up, meeting Thorin's eyes for a second. "It… sounds nice."
"It does," Thorin agreed. It was a common enough saying, most often used to comfort the sick or troubled. It had been his mother's mantra.
"Mister Thorin? Could you, could you maybe please say it one more time?"
"Of course," Thorin put a hand on Sam's shoulder. It covered the boy's whole arm. "If you will tell me why you insist on using titles with all the adults in Erebor. The other children call me 'Thorin', but you never have."
Sam went bright red, and Thorin silently cursed his tactlessness. And he had been doing so well…
"It's… it's good manners," he whispered. "If we don't have good manners we can't ever be getting good jobs and any food! And we have to be respectful of, of people that are more important or, or it's rude and-"
Thorin put his palm in Sam's lap. "Here. What do you see?"
Sam stared at him as if he had gone mad. "A hand?"
"Exactly. Now," Thorin placed the little hobbit's fingers below his wrist. "What do you feel?"
"A heartbeat…"
Thorin gently moved the boy's fingers to his own wrist. "And what do you feel now?"
"A heartbeat…"
Thorin nodded. "I am a person, Sam, just like you. Adults have hopes and fears and feelings, just like you do. You are important, and there is no need to feel inferior to anyone in this mountain. If you know someone and you have their permission to call them by name there is no need for a 'Mister'."
Sam's lips trembled. "But, I'm not a Took or a Baggins or a Brandybuck! I'm just a Gamgee, and-"
"You are just as important as your brethren," said Thorin. "They hold no status above you, not here. You all are seen as the children of lords and ladies."
"But my Papa's a gardener."
Thorin could not help a small smile. "I'm sure gardeners can be most noble folk. But you are also the ward of Bofur. Do you know what a ward is?" Sam shook his head. "It means that Bofur is your guardian, and that you are a part of his family and will be treated as such, though you will not inherit his possessions and titles, unless he states it in his will. Anyway – what it truly means is that as the ward of a lord you hold the same status as the others."
Sam sucked on his bottom lip. "Are… are you sure? I'm really, really allowed to not use 'Mister?'"
Thorin nodded. "Really."
"Mama… Mama might think I have bad manners…" Sam whispered uncertainly.
"Well, that's easily fixed." Thorin made a loose fist over his heart with his right hand, covering it with his left. He closed his eyes. "I, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, do now address Mrs Gamgee, should she be watching over Sam in this particular moment. I wish you to know that your son has been granted permission to address the adults of the company and associated hobbits and dwarves by their first names only. However, we don't want you to think that he is being rude, so please know that it is our wish to have him comfortable here."
When Thorin opened his eyes, Sam was rubbing at his own. "But what if she's watching Papa right now?"
Thorin paused, before resuming the praying position. "We pray now to Lord Mahal, in your almighty power, please ensure that Mrs Gamgee receives our message, should she be currently indisposed."
Sam sniffled, and nodded sombrely. "So she won't be upset if I don't say 'Mister' all the time?"
"I would think that she would be happy, as long as you are happy," Thorin replied with equal solemnity.
"Are… are you sure that people won't be offended if I don't call them 'Mister'? I don't want them to not like me!" Sam's eyes glistened with tears.
"They like you already," Thorin pointed out. "In fact, it will likely make them feel more special."
"Really?" Sam looked confused.
"Really," Thorin said. For a moment he hesitated, warring with himself, and then decided that he had already spilled more emotion than he was comfortable with so he might as well go all the way. "This is a family, Sam. A strange, mismatched, patchwork family, but a family nonetheless. And you have become a very important part of this family. You need never doubt that."
Sam stared at Thorin with wide eyes and a slack mouth. "I am?"
Thorin nodded. "You are."
Sam looked down, but his mouth slowly twitched into a smile. "Thank you, Mister Thorin." Thorin raised an eyebrow, and Sam blushed. "I'm sorry."
"Hush now, there's nothing to be sorry about," Thorin assured him, rubbing the child's back. "Ir-rûzud tanallikhi, id-nûlukh tarazzidi."
Sam snuffled. "Ir-rûzud… tanallikhi… id-nûlukh… tarazzidi…"
"Your pronunciation is wonderful," Thorin praised. Though he had initially been shocked, and perhaps a little angry, that the hobbits seemed to know so much of the dwarves' treasured language, he had since come to terms with it. By his sister's logic they were entitled to know Khuzdul as residents of the mountain, and he found that he did not disagree.
Sam smiled, then winced, and started to scramble off of the bed. Thorin followed swiftly, helping the boy on his next bathroom expedition. When they returned to the bedroom Sam was crying again, but it was silent this time. The tears trailing down his cheeks were wiped away with his pyjama sleeves and the child forced a smile onto his face.
"Thank you, for looking after me, Thorin," he whispered.
Thorin smiled. "You are most welcome. You are being very brave, Sam. You'll be back on your feet in no time, I am sure."
Shyly, Sam shuffled just a little closer, his arms pressing into his stomach. "Do you… you have any more stories?"
"Aye," Thorin had already put a pile of children's picture tomes on his bedside table. "And I think I know just the one…" The king patted the bed next to him and Sam scooted closer again, while Thorin opened the leather bound book atop the pile. "The Sun and the Moon, by Bjard the Bard. When the cold wind comes and hope's covered by snow, the sun shines on and the moon still glows…"
By the time the story was finished, Sam was snoozing across Thorin's lap, his thumb in his mouth. Closing the book, Thorin gave a small smile and pulled a small blanket over the tiny hobbit.
Napping sounded like a good idea to him, too.
"Oh, curse me!"
"Bofur? What's wrong?"
For a moment, Bofur could not answer his sister-in-law. Guilt had glued his eyes to his forgotten pocket watch. "I forgot to check the time. And I think I might've misread it earlier…"
Marta frowned. "Well, what time is it?"
"Nigh on six o'clock."
"Six o'clock?" Marta yelped, putting a hand over her heart. "How did the hour grow so late? What of the children? It's past their dinner time; they haven't even been picked up from school yet!"
Bofur tugged his hand over his chin and beard. They had only just made it back to the city, and apparently time had escaped them, more so than he thought possible. Since taking in little Sam he had tried so hard to make the lad feel as though he belonged in Erebor, but he was still addressed as 'Mister Bofur', more often than not. Sam was still much more reserved than he had been in the Shire, for all Bofur's efforts, and now Sam would think he had been forgotten. That was sure to do wonders for his confidence.
"Perhaps someone else collected them?" Dís suggested, though she did not look convinced.
"I don't know who could," Thora bit her lip. "I was to pick up Seren and Ren today, the council's meeting is not due to end until seven."
Dana nodded. "And the rest of the company are down in Dale – that only leaves Thorin. Oh, and Dwalin and Óin. I doubt any of them have the presence of mind to go and collect the little ones."
"I wish I could disagree with you," Dís groaned. "Though of all my family I have the most stock in Óin when it comes to common sense. Maybe a teacher brought them home?"
Marta pursed her lips. "We're close enough to the Company Room, we should check."
"Aye," Bofur turned and started to hurry towards the royal wing. "But quickly."
As he jogged up the stairs to the Royal Wing, Bofur heard Dwalin's unmistakeable voice.
"Yes, Nelly, get your foot into that space! Come on, Bróin you can do better than that, strengthen that left arm, atta boy!"
Bofur burst through the Company Room in time to see Nelly flip his nephew onto the floor with a triumphant cry, collapsing onto his chest with her knees splayed either side to keep him down. Just as Bofur was about to laugh and congratulate the little hobbit, Bróin's legs flew up and wrapped around Nelly. With an adorable roar he rocked forward, slamming Nelly onto the blanket that covered the floor, pinning her arms down and securing her legs with his own.
"Ha!"
"Sorry lass," Dwalin grinned. "Bróin wins again."
"Urgh!" Nelly pulled a face. "Dirty rotten cheater!"
"Am not!" Bróin laughed, clambering up and offering her his hand. "You're just not as good as wrestling yet." Nelly narrowed her eyes at him, but Bróin looked unfazed as he continued. "I've had more training than you so I have an unfair advantage."
She sighed and used his hand to yank herself to her feet, noticing those arriving. She drew herself up to her full height, put her hands on her hips and did such a good impression of her mother that Bofur did not know whether to laugh or hide. "Bofur! Dís! Where have you been, we've been worried sick?! And where are our rascally parents? Honestly. Houses empty, ropes gone, no note! You could have died, you could have embarrassed me!"
Bofur sniggered, but Dís managed to retain some decorum. "Good afternoon to you too, Nelly."
"Humph!" Nelly shook her head, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead dramatically. "The cheek of it! Poor Dwalin had to come and pick all of us up all on his own while we waited in the empty schoolyard, wondering if we would ever see our families again or if we were-"
"Stop it, Nelly!" Pippin scowled from the corner, where he was building a fort out of bricks with Merry, Frodo and Bodin. "That's not fair! You weren't even the ones that Dwalin forgottened, it was me and Bodin!"
Dwalin went bright pink. "Laddie, I thought we agreed not to mention that."
"Oh," Pippin smiled sheepishly. "I forgotted."
Bofur raised his eyebrows at the warrior. "You forgot the toddlers?"
"I wouldn't be so quick to talk, thief. Sam's came down with the stomach flu this morning."
"What?" Bofur looked at Óin quickly, hoping that the healer would say Dwalin was joking, and that the boy was just in the bathroom.
"Aye," Óin nodded, looking up from Pearl's hair for a moment before resuming a seven stranded braid. "I don't think it's anything serious, laddie, but we'll keep an eye on him."
"Thorin's looking after him," Frodo explained.
Bofur blinked. "Thorin?"
"Mmhm."
"You mean Thorin Oakenshield? King Under the Mountain?"
Frodo sighed. "Nooo, I was talking about Dain's son Thorin, from the Iron Hills."
Dwalin snorted. "Don't let your uncle here you talking back in that tone, laddie."
"But Dwalin, Uncle Bilbo is the King of sarcasm," Frodo reminded the warrior in an astoundingly polite voice. "Auntie Dís, where is Uncle Bilbo?"
"He is with the other hobbits, the princes and a couple of others in a series of tunnels we were exploring today."
"Aye, we left them for the minotaurs."
"Bofur!" Dana punched his arm as Vinca and Pippin gasped in horror. "There are no minotaurs in the mountain, darlings. Just some beautiful swimming holes."
Bofin gasped. "Ooh, can we go, can we go?"
"Not today," Dís said firmly. "We must wait until we can put some extra supports in the tunnels before you little ones go down."
Pearl frowned. "Are… are they safe?"
"Aye, and they're all together lass." Bofur winked at her. "You don't need to worry, I promise."
She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. "Alright."
"Now, where are Sam and Thorin?" Bofur looked to Dwalin. "I want to check on him."
"In Thorin's chambers, last I knew," said Dwalin.
"I'll come with you," Dís nodded at Bofur, and he nodded back.
The walk to Thorin's chambers took less than a minute, given that they were just down the corridor, but Bofur's own stomach churned with guilt for the entirety of it. Now he had not just abandoned Sam – he had left him sick and in the arms of the king, who Bofur knew still scared the hobbit.
He raised his fist to knock but Dís walked straight through Thorin's front door, so Bofur followed. He had never been in the king's quarters before, but Dís made a beeline for a door that led to the bedroom, and when they looked in she relaxed visibly.
Bofur's jaw dropped, but it quickly morphed into a wide grin. "That is adorable."
"Bofur," Thorin's eyes remained closed, and the hobbit clinging onto his side did not even twitch. "If I am not dreaming, you are in big trouble. This is my bedroom."
"Oh, untwist your underwear, great king, I dragged him here," Dís smiled, keeping her voice quiet. "How is he?"
"A dead dwarf walking."
"Thorin…"
"Oh, Sam? He's alright. Horrible symptoms, but he's coping like a warrior." Still, Thorin kept his eyes shut, but his hand did move to cover Sam's back gently. "He's homesick and truly sick, but he'll shake it, I am sure."
"Thank you, Thorin," Bofur murmured.
"I did nothing of great import. Besides, it kept me out of the finance meetings. Now, if you want to wake the sick, sleeping halfling to take him home be my guest. If not, get out of my room and I will bring him to you when he wakes."
"When you wake, you mean."
"Shut up and get out of my room, Dís."
"Very mature."
"I said get out of my room."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going," Dís rolled her eyes at Bofur, a devilish grin on her face. "What a shame our king is no more than a toddler…"
"I'd say more of a tween with that attitude," Bofur teased.
A pillow thwacked him on the back of the head, which was impressive given that Thorin's eyes remained closed.
"Goodbye, Bofur. Goodbye Dís."
"Goodbye," they chimed quietly, sharing a grin.
"So, Dís," Bofur said as they left Thorin's rooms. "Did you see how flustered Bilbo got when we mentioned-"
"If you intend to say his love-life, Bofur, I will break your nose," Dís said pleasantly. "That is Bilbo's business and Bilbo's alone. I am not one for idle gossip."
"Oh, of course not," Bofur shook his head. "Neither am I, unless it concerns someone I care about. I just couldn't help but notice-"
"Dwalin!" Dís called, striding into the Company Room. "I forgot to mention, Elza stayed down with the hobbits."
Bofur grinned to himself. It seemed so impossible, so unlikely, but-
"Uncle Bofur? Will you come and play with us?"
He beamed down at Orla. "Of course, lass, what're we playing?"
"Mermaids versus pirates. You can be either but you should know that the pirates are winning right now."
"Then there's only one thing to do. How do I be a mermaid?"
Disbelief swirled through Nori's mind as his outstretched arms crashed into the wall of rock. He was too late, they had lost…
How had they lost?
"Dammit, Nori," Paladin sighed, swatting him on the back of the head and scrambling off his back. "I thought you were better than this."
Nori rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. "Well, if you hadn't tripped me up-"
"If you hadn't bashed my toes against the tunnel I wouldn't have tripped you up," Paladin sneered playfully. "We'll call it a draw, then."
"A draw for last place? How cute."
"Shut up, Nori," Paladin rolled his eyes.
"Don't worry about him," Bilbo said, a wide smile on his face. "He's just angry that he owes me five gold coins."
"It should have been impossible," Nori admitted begrudgingly, tossing a couple of shiny coins Bilbo's way. "That's all I've got on me, you can have the rest later. Now, how did you do it?"
"Well, I put one foot in front of the other and I moved faster than walking. It's known as running, I believe."
"With a full grown dwarf on your back."
"We did warn you," Esme reminded him, jumping off Aria's back. "That Kíli and Bilbo always win piggy back races."
"If Kíli was doing the carrying, I'd understand. But-"
Bilbo patted the dwarf consolingly on the arm. "We've had a lot of practise."
"I've gotta say, you're good fun for a real adult, Bilbo," Ehren rolled his shoulders absently.
Bilbo snorted. "Thank you."
Esme stared curiously at Ehren. "Ehren, how old are you?"
"That depends. Are you asking to insult me or are you genuinely curious?"
Jari rolled his eyes. "He's seventy nine. Why?"
"I was just wondering."
"How old are you?" Ehren frowned.
She grinned wolfishly. "Guess."
To Nori's surprise, Ehren held up his hands in surrender. "Oh no, I'm not falling down that trap again. Guessing a lady's age never ends without my nose bleeding."
"Guess Bilbo's age, then," Kíli suggested.
"I won't punch you," Bilbo promised.
Ehren paused. "Alright… Maybe… A hundred and twenty?"
Nori laughed, but the princes and hobbits laughed even louder.
Ehren concentrated. "You look young, even with the lack of beard in consideration, but maybe that's a hobbit thing. A hundred and fifty?"
"You're going the wrong way," Bilbo looked highly amused.
"Oh… a hundred, then."
"Try halving that number." Fíli suggested, and Ehren's eyes bulged out of his head.
"You cannot be fifty?"
Kíli nodded. "Fifty two, to be exact."
"But… but… that makes you younger than Ari! And you-" he gestured, aghast to the four younger hobbits. "You must be…"
"Late thirties, early forties," Paladin nodded. "Yep."
"You're younger than my cousins!" Ehren looked utterly appalled. "Seren is forty five, and Ren'll be forty seven in Summer. That's just..."
"We age differently," Esme shrugged. "It's not disgusting, Ehren."
"You're all wee babbies!"
"No," Saradoc said patiently. "But we have our own 'wee babbies'."
"That's what makes it weird," Ehren grimaced. "Bilbo, how did you raise Kíli when he's older than you? By two decades?"
Nori had to admit that it had been difficult for him to wrap his mind around too, when he first discovered the age gaps, but he was not about to say that and put Ehren out of his misery.
"Like Esme said, we age differently," Bilbo shrugged. "And mentally he's at least a century behind me."
"Exact- hey!" Kíli raised his eyebrows. "If I am that's your fault – you were my teacher."
Fíli grinned to himself. "Whoever designed the way that the races grow was clearly drunk when they were doing it."
"Blasphemers… I can't believe I'm associating with thieves and blasphemers…" Ehren shook his head.
"Hey," Nori frowned, gazing up at the rock wall above them. "Only one thief. Bilbo doesn't count – he was a terrible burglar."
Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "How do you suppose that?"
"Your job was to get in, scout around, and not wake the dragon. What did you do? You got in, got lost and woke the dragon." Nori did not wait for Bilbo to respond. "You know, getting up this thing would be a lot quicker if a free-climber took a pick and a pulley up."
"Free climbing?" Kíli tapped the wall apprehensively.
"I'll go," Aria volunteered, staring at her brother. "And you can hush, Jari. We both know I'm a brilliant free-climber."
"Unfortunately," Jari muttered.
"Are you strong enough to secure the pulley, though?" Nori snorted at Aria's look, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, I'll take that as a yes."
Replacing the candle attached to her helmet, Aria took the bag full of pulley-equipment, slung it over her shoulders and pulled herself up onto the sheer rock face.
Nori could not help but be impressed with Aria's speed as she ascended, but neither could he help sharing in Jari's concern when she became a pale light in the distance, and then she disappeared entirely.
"Don't worry, Jari. If she falls, I'll catch her."
"Shut up, Ehren."
Picking up on the tension, Nori changed the subject. "So, speaking of the age differences… What do you suppose would happen if a hobbit began courting a dwarf?"
"I expect that would depend," Esme mused. "Though it is an odd thought…"
"Were you ever close to courting a hobbit, Kíli?" Bragi wondered.
"No," Kíli said, too quickly.
"Ooh, do you remember when you asked Violet Underhill to the Barn Dance?" Esme's eyes lit up with glee, and Fíli watched his brother flush. "That was cute."
"No it wasn't. It was horribly awkward," Kíli ran his hand over his stubble. "I'd only just started to grow a moustache and I looked – I looked like that awful advisor to Lake-Town's Master, what was his name, Alfrid?"
Bilbo snorted with laughter. "You did not. You did look like an oliphaunt, though. Hadn't grown into your ears."
"That's true!" Paladin beamed, and Kíli blushed brighter.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That wasn't even courting, though. It was just fun."
"What happened to Miss Underhill?" Soren waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Kíli's face fell. "She got engaged to Holman Greenhand-"
"Oh, the heartbreak-"
Kíli cut over Ehren. "And died in the battle in the Shire."
"Oh…" Ehren's eyes widened. "I am so sorry."
"So am I," Kíli nodded, his eyes heavy. "I was not in love with her, but she was a friend."
"Shit… Way to put your foot in it, Soren," Ehren scolded.
"I'm sorry," Soren said sincerely as he thwacked Ehren on the back of the head.
Kíli just nodded, and Fíli put his hand on his brother's arm.
"Perhaps if it was an older dwarf," Nori steered the subject back towards the situation he had seen on the ledge and tried not to grin too widely. "The young'uns all age strangely but when they reach adulthood it seems more similar. Bilbo, for example, could quite easily court a dwarf lass or lad that seems the same age as he."
There was a loud clang of metal against rock, and a weighted rope crashed to the floor by Elza's feet. The woman jumped half a foot in the air and swore loudly, before clamping her hand over her mouth sheepishly.
"Sorry!"
"Don't be. Those were my thoughts exactly," Nori drawled, ignoring the fact that Bilbo looked as though he wanted to claw Nori's eyes out. "Right then, Bilbo, up you go."
The hobbit continued to glare wordlessly at Nori.
"Uh… Bilbo?" Kíli prodded his father, recoiling at the look he got. "Never mind."
Nori smiled wider, showing his teeth. "You're nice and light, I'm sure Aria will be able to-"
"One more word out of you," Bilbo said in a terrifyingly pleasant tone. Kíli and the other hobbits took several steps back. "And you'll have the runs for a month. Now, up you go, Nori. What with the pulley and all Aria will have no problem pulling you up. Will she?"
Nori kept his mouth shut as he smirked, moving over to the rope and putting his feet in the metal stirrups, tugging three times. Then the trickster began to rise up with steady, strong movements.
It took little over an hour for them to all scale the enormous drop. Since those who came later could be pulled by more than one person at once they rose much quicker, but Ehren was forbidden from pulling when he purposefully dropped Bragi several feet down. The moment the albino had finally crawled over the edge was the moment that Nori made a mental note to stay on the dwarf's good side. The glare alone was impressive, but the calm, gentle threat was the icing on a very entertaining cake.
"Tomorrow, you're going to join me in the arena. No weapons. Free fighting."
Ehren had groaned as Soren, Jari and Fíli whooped and jeered at him.
"He can't back out of that," Fíli had explained to Kíli. "Bragi'll get him in his sleep, or in another undignified matter, if he does."
Finally, they all reached the top of the rock-face, and began making their way back to civilisation. By the time they reached the company room it was nigh on eight o'clock.
"Mama!" cried Vinca, running over in her pyjamas and launching into Ellie's arms. "You came back!"
"Don't be silly," Ellie scoffed, nuzzling her daughter's nose. "Of course we did."
"Yes, but before bedtime!"
"She was worried that somebody else would put her to bed. You're the only one who knows how to tell her story," Nelly explained sagely, before sauntering over to the pointy-haired thief. "Hello, Nori."
Nori leant down, his face splitting into a huge grin. "Hello, monster. I'm proud of you."
Her eyes twinkled as she raised her eyebrows at him. "Even though I was on the opposite team and made fun of you?"
"Especially because you made fun of me," Nori winked, lifting the child when she laughed and raised her arms.
"We learnt loads in hand-to-hand combat today!" she declared proudly, before wilting a little. "But Bróin still keeps beating me."
"Eh, he's had more practise," Nori reminded her. "You're doing just fine, and-"
"I will not!"
Gimli's roar entered the room several seconds before he did, with his red-faced father, an amused looking Balin, and a wide-eyed Ori on his heels.
"You mind your tone!" Glóin roared back, his tone identical to his son. "The cheek-"
Gimli whirled around, fire in his eyes, and growled at his father. "Stop shouting! You'll frighten the wee hobbits!"
"Oh, you, you," Glóin spluttered stupidly for a moment. Nori shifted Nelly onto his hip to get more comfortable – this was getting fun. "Selfish, ungrateful boy!"
"Ungrateful?" Gimli's eyes bulged. "Ungrateful because I do not want to sit in a room and count coins for the rest of time?"
"For the hundredth time, there is more to being a banker-"
"I don't care! I want to do something with my life, I want-"
"Oh, and I expect I've done nothing with mine then?" Glóin raised his eyebrows, managing to make it look like an aggressive gesture. It was quite impressive, and Nori decided to practise in the mirror later.
"No, that's not what I said! But you going on the quest for Erebor and fighting in battles had nothing to do with banking! You just did that and left me behind in an apprenticeship for a job you know I do not want!"
The entire room stared from Gimli to Glóin as if watching a jousting match, but the father and son did not seem to care.
"You cannot just be a warrior, Gimli," Glóin snarled hotly. "What if you get injured and cannot join the guard?"
"I won't-"
"Don't be so naïve, Gimli. Banking is important and stable, and-"
"I hate it! I hate everything about it and I will not let you push me into it!" Gimli yelled.
"I'm not pushing, I'm helping-"
Gimli laughed, a high, cold sound, and Nori shifted. This was not funny anymore – the pair were getting deeply upset.
"Helping?" Gimli rolled his eyes, but he looked on the verge of tears. "How have you been helping? You just keep telling me I'm too young to do anything important and too old to go to school and then you abandon us to traipse across the world and nearly get yourself killed and then-"
"How dare you?" Glóin stormed towards his son. "Everything I've done, I've done for you!"
"I know! And I appreciate it more than words can describe! But I've never asked that from you, I just want you to listen to me!"
"Gimli-"
"Stop it!" Pearl cried, darting in-between them with a trembling lip. "Please stop, you're scaring me!"
At the sight of the little hobbit's frightened face, Gimli seemed to shrink to the size of a mouse, and Glóin deflated like a punctured ball.
"Thank you, nuthanuth," Dana murmured, gently tipping Merry out of her lap and stepping forward with stricken eyes and tight lips. "Both of you come outside with me. Now."
The little family left an awkward silence in their wake, and Nori could here furious, muffled words from behind the door, but he could not make them out.
"Uncle Bilbo, why do you have braids in your hair?" Frodo called louder than usual, and Nori could have sung. The little hobbit had managed to change the subject to the only thing that his 'uncle' and 'aunt' did not want to talk about.
"Oh, Dís helped me to keep the hair out of my eyes. It's getting very long and I do rather need a haircut."
"A haircut?" Orla shrieked, her twin putting a hand on her heart.
"Why, why would you cut your hair?" gasped Ola.
"Well, you don't think it stays this length naturally, do you?" Saradoc teased, bouncing his curls in his palm.
"But then you'll be dishonoured!" cried Ren.
"Not according to our culture," pointed out Bilbo.
"I used to get tons of grief for my hair," Kíli piped up, flopping down beneath the armchair his mother was sitting in. "From Frodo's grandpa in particular."
Frodo puffed up and blew out his cheeks, lowering his eyebrows and talking in a low voice. "You'll never get a nice wife with hair like that, my boy! Why don't you cut it like a gentleman, hm? We could set some curls in it, get rid of that messy scruff on your face. You'd have ladies falling at your feet, and you could give Bilbo some nice grandchildren!"
The laughter in the room dulled slightly as Gimli walked back in, his head hung and his face red.
"I'm sorry," he said gruffly. "For acting like a brat, and for scaring you."
"That's alright, we forgive you," Pearl said, scampering over to the young dwarf and taking his hands. "Are you alright?"
Gimli smiled a little. "I'm fine."
"Liar," Nelly said, coughing dramatically and blinking angelic eyes at her parents. "What was that?"
Gimli laughed slightly, but it was Pearl that he addressed. "I'll be fine, but I'm going to head home now. Get an early night."
The hobbit lass studied his eyes for a long moment before wrapping her arms around him. "Alright, Gimli. Night night."
"Night night," he replied with another strained smile, hugging her back.
"I think now would be a good time for us to go to bed too," Ellie said gently.
Nelly groaned. "But Mama-"
"Come on, Nelly," Ellie held out her hand.
Sighing heavily, Nelly looked at Nori, who kissed her on the forehead.
"Night, kid."
"Night, Nori."
Slowly, people began to leave the room. The children were first, but many of the young dwarves were exhausted from their day of exploration and headed home earlier than usual.
"We have work to do tomorrow, and besides," Soren had grinned. "We've gotta be up bright eyed and bushy tailed to watch Bragi beat up Ehren tomorrow."
The company and older dwarves trickled out in ones and twos. Nori and Ori turned in around midnight, leaving only Thorin – who had returned to the room when Bofur took Sam home – Dís, Bilbo, the princes and Dana in the Company room, unless you counted the wolves dozing by the fire.
"I just don't know what to do with them," Dana sighed. "Glóin is adamant about Gimli choosing banking as a backup career, but Gimli would rather poke his own eyes out. They're both too stubborn for their own good, and they won't listen to each other. It's driving me insane."
"It's clear that Gimli idolises his father," Bilbo pointed out gently. "He is just trying to come into his own person."
"You say that as if you speak from experience…"
Bilbo laughed as a sheepish smile slipped onto Kíli's face. "Gimli is sixty four, yes?"
"Aye, sixty four."
"Well, when Kíli was sixty eight he did the same sort of thing," Bilbo said, playing absently with his son's hair. "Of course, it was not banking that he disliked. Esme and Saradoc got engaged, and it was the first time he felt that the age difference between him and us was of any consequence."
"I felt like I was getting left behind," Kíli admitted. "I didn't know who I was or where I came from, and it bothered me. I didn't refer to myself as Bilbo's son, then, and I felt like I didn't belong in the Shire and couldn't belong with dwarves. I was trying to carve an identity for myself but I did not know how."
"I can imagine that," Dana nodded sympathetically. "But I cannot imagine you and Bilbo arguing so viciously."
Kíli glanced up at Bilbo, and Dís could see a little guilt behind his sad smile. "Oh, we did. Well, I did. Bilbo rarely yelled back."
Bilbo shrugged. "I used to argue with my own parents, barley a decade before that. When I lost them we were still in that phase. In fact, we argued the very day before my father fell ill. Whenever I felt myself growing angry with Kíli I would remember that fight, and how it felt to believe that your parents did not understand you. It helped me put things into perspective. Also, I just don't have that short of a temper."
"Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Glóin," Dana sighed. "Or Gimli."
"Or Kíli," Bilbo pointed out. "Before the quest he had a fuse the length of a teaspoon. I'd say that now it's about as long as a soup spoon…"
Kíli snorted. "I wouldn't say that. I still get angry quickly, but I just control it better. If I have to. I wouldn't worry about it too much. Gimli obviously idolises his father, almost as much as Glóin adores Gimli."
Dana sighed. "I hope so…"
"If you like I could talk to Gimli," Kíli offered. "It might help."
Dís smiled at her son as Dana nodded and agreed. She began to drift away from the conversation as it turned to gentle teasing on Kíli's subtlety skills. It had been a long day, and she sank back in her chair to let her mind drift.
The glowing of the lake is soft and warm, and her family are around her. Laughing, singing, happy, peaceful. Her eyes fall on Bilbo, and as she watches his laughter lines grow deeper and his shoulders hunch. His hair thins and lightens until it is whiter than Balin's, and his smile becomes the only part of him that looks strong.
He is old, but still smiling. There is a little dwarfling on his lap, a dwarfling that calls him Sigin'adad. Grandfather.
Dís loves him. It does not matter that he is old, that he is frail. She loves him. If the rest of her life is spent by his side, with their sons and their family around them it will be a life well spent. Her mind flickers to Finn, and an empty tavern on a winter's night long ago.
"I don't know what to do," she whispers, and he puts his arm around her. "Without Frerin…"
He hangs his head. "I know."
"The elders are thinking of calling for suitors for my hand. Our people's numbers are dwindling, and only three babes were born last year. They think an heir would be a great boost to the people's moral, and they are not wrong. They are also not wrong in thinking that Thorin is much too busy trying to stop us from dying to look for a wife." She sighs and takes a large swing of beer.
"And here I thought we had left arranged marriages in the dark days," Finn says bitterly.
Dís shudders at the thought. "I don't think they are planning on arranging something without my consent, but-"
"I wasn't talking about you," Finn turns away. "My parents are negotiating with Karl and Freja over Kara's hand in marriage."
"What?" Dís chokes. "Finn, you cannot marry that, that cow's arse!"
Finn smiles slightly. "Nice description. It's accurate, I like it."
"Finn, she is terrible for you. You deserve better than Kara," Dís pronounces the beauty's name as an insult. "Even a pig deserves better than Kara."
"I don't have much of a say. We've been wandering too long, Dís. People are getting desperate. You know Orvar and Elin?"
"Yes?"
"They did not get engaged out of choice," Finn says darkly. "Their parents decided that it would be the best way to ensure the survival of their bloodlines after Horvar was killed. Torvar's still too young, but Orvar..."
"Mahal…" Dís shakes her head and takes a long swig of her drink. "Well, at least they're happy enough."
"They're making it work," Finn nods.
A thought comes to mind, a crazy thought, and Dís stares at her best friend. He is attractive, it is undeniable, and funny and strong, and he cares about her. She loves him, he loves her. It is better than either of them will get with the paths set out before them.
"We should get married," she says before the thought leaves.
"Us?" Finn grins.
"I'm serious," Dís glances at her mug. "I already love you."
Finn turns her face towards his and stares at her with unreadable eyes. "You think so?"
"It's true that I love you," Dís whispers, well aware of how close he is now. Her heart is beating faster, and maybe she does love him in that way. Maybe he is her soulmate?
When he kisses her, her stomach is invaded by butterflies, and she feels safe. She feels whole.
She knows she has made the right choice.
Then her mind returns to the cave, to Bilbo as an old dwarf, and Finn is beside him, young as ever and grinning like a bobcat.
"You found a good'un, Dís. Hold him tight lass – don't let him go."
"Amad?" Fíli broke her attention, his face concerned.
"Yes? What's the matter, what's wrong?"
"Are you alright?"
"Me?" she blinked, feeling her face relax out of a frown. "Oh yes, I'm quite alright. Just a little lost in thought, is all."
"Oh…" Fíli shrugged. "Well, like I was saying, it's only fair that Kíli has to grow through the awkward and embarrassing rituals I had to suffer through…"
Dís smiled to herself, and her eyes fell on Bilbo. Young, strong, smiling, Bilbo. Something had shifted in her heart, like a brake that had been released, or a curtain that had finally been torn down. She was in love with Bilbo Baggins in a way that she had never been in love with her husband. It was not a love that stemmed from a passionate friendship and a desperate situation to grow into a beautiful romance. It was a love that stemmed from something deeper. A love that felt right at its core.
Once, she had been in love with Finn, and now that love was platonic and grief-stricken, but fiercer than ever. The flame that burnt in her heart for her husband was no longer a candle – it was lighting an entire forge, because it was finally in its right form.
She did not see Fíli, watching her from the sofa with careful eyes. For months now he had suspected, doubted, wondered. The look in his mother's eyes was something he had never expected to see again. But he saw it.
He saw her eyes, he saw Bilbo's eyes. He saw the braids, the smiles, the glances. Fíli saw it all. And it had gotten too far. Something had to be done, and Fíli was going to be the dwarf to do it.
So, I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Please do let me know what you think. I love hearing from you so much more than you will ever know!
By the way, if anyone wants to draw me a picture of baby Samwise Gamgee in a hooded dwarven onesie I would be grateful forever and ever, hahaha!
Right, so this competition business. First and foremost, I am so honoured, thank you whoever nominated me. You can't post links in chapters, so if you remove the spaces in the following, you should be able to find it.
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There will also be a link in my profile if that's easier for you. If you think that Strangers Like Me deserves to win an award, please go and vote for me. I will appreciate it so much more than you can ever know, and just being nominated is awesome! The positivity that this story has brought to my life is unbelievable, and I appreciate each and every one of you for helping this to happen and for helping me to become as happy as I am today.
That said, if you have read another story in the 'Favourite Lord of the Rings' story category and believe it more deserving of Strangers for this award, go for it, and let the best fic win! *desperately wishes that I had the time in my life to go through and fix all my goddamn typos*
Voting closes on the 2nd of May, so please, if you want to vote do so before then!
Thank you so, so much, I hope you have an awesome day :D
