So, Thorin was 140 years old when Bilbo was born. Dwarves come of age at 72, I believe. Despite the fact I'd like to have Thorin as King, I'll keep him as a prince. Thrain deserves to be King too.
Nín neth mellon- My young friend
Periannath- Hobbit
idùzhib- Khuzdul for diamond (as in the jewel)
"I knew you were skilled at interrogating." Belladonna remarked to Tauriel.
A slim dark eyebrow rose in interest. "Oh?"
"Yes. You got me to tell you about everything and now you've done exactly the same to him." Belladonna nodded towards her newly-found relative, who was examining a stall of furs.
"I had to make sure he wasn't a danger to you." Tauriel said.
"I see. And what have you found?" Belladonna asked.
"He seems trustworthy," the Elf glanced down at her companion. "His younger brother is guardian of the Crown Prince and of the Prince's younger sibling."
"So, he does work with royalty?"
Tauriel nodded. "Only members of the royal court would know the answers to the questions I asked him."
"Is he and my grandfather of the royal court, then?"
"I believe so. He was related to Lord Fundin however distantly." Tauriel turned her clear brown eyes on Belladonna's blue-green ones. "I do not always like Dwarves, but I know they hold a deep love for family," a gentle smile crept over her features, "even those they've never seen. It may take some time for them to get used to you, little one."
"It often does take people a long time to get used to me," Belladonna said remembering, with an ache, her first meetings with Bungo's family. The Baggins family had never quite gotten to trust her, and she always regretted that, more so now than ever.
Tauriel crouched down by the periannath. "Nín neth mellon. As long as you have memories of your love, you will have him. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes," Belladonna answered. "Don't worry yourself, I'll be fine."
The Elf wasn't at all convinced, but stood up, gazing down at the pregnant She-Hobbit. Not for the first time, she wondered how it was that Men, and Halflings too, it seemed, could bear and give birth to children without needing the full year to do so. Perhaps it was because they were smaller, she thought. Though the women of the race of Men were taller than this small creature was.
It really was most confusing.
The borders of Dale grew closer, and with each step, Tauriel kept glancing at her periannath-mellon to the Dwarrow who kept looking over her as though he was searching for something in Belladonna's golden curls, pale skin or those green-blue eyes that appeared to be missing something in their gaze.
He did care for his younger relative, Tauriel knew, she could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at her as though she was something precious and wonderful to behold. Only Belladonna did not seem to notice this, until the night her unborn child began to remind his mother of his presence.
Belladonna grunted as a dull pain ran through her stomach. He'd begun to grow more active as the months went on, and she held her stomach tightly, unable to stop little murmurs of surprise as he kept kicking.
"Belladonna?"
"'Baby's kicking." Belladonna gasped as the baby gave his hardest kick yet.
"That's a good sign, a healthy sign."
Turning her head, Belladonna could see a little smile play around Balin's mouth. "I know. My little brother-" she stopped, unable to go on. Her youngest brother had been her favourite, he'd accompanied her on many of her adventures, and he'd been very pleased and excited once informed of his impending uncle-hood. The thought of his torn, decaying body stilled her heart and made her eyes burn and prickle. Tightly squeezing her eyes, shut, he jumped to feel a wide, warm hand settle itself on her shoulder.
"Don't fight your grief, idùzhib.There's no shame or weakness in weeping for loved ones."
It sounded like something Bungo would say, and it was perhaps what allowed Belladonna's locked away tears to come out from her eyes and make their way down her cheeks, travelling over too-sharp cheekbones. The hand on her shoulder was swiftly replaced with an arm and as her tears were joined by harsh sobs, she was turned and pressed against a firm chest that was covered with soft fabric. Whether it was her Elf or Dwarf companion, she didn't know, nor did she care.
For the first time, she let herself cry.
In all her life, Belladonna had never seen so many Dwarves. She'd seen Men, you couldn't go into Bree without seeing them, but she'd had very few sightings of Dwarves, with the exception of Balin, and this was a whole new experience. She missed Tauriel, who had informed them that she could go no further, that she had to return to Greenwood, though she promised she would come back to see her and her and her Fauntling.
For now, she stayed close to Balin, hands splayed over her stomach as though to protect her son from the bustling crowd of Dwarrows that s surrounded them.
It really was interesting, she thought. There were mostly male Dwarves, but the females she saw had beards! Perhaps not as thick as their male counterparts, but there was distinctive facial hair and it was hard to avoid staring at them.
Ahead of herself and her guide, she could see two large, green gates. They were colossal and unlike anything she had ever seen, and she stepped even closer to Balin, eyeing the guards standing by the doors. Both had thick, heavily beaded beards and wore shining, silver armour. One of them tipped up his helmet and spoke to them.
"Who is that with you, my lord?"
"Kin," Balin answered. "Open the gates."
The guard looked at Belladonna's feet with their tufts of hair brushing against the hems of her stained, black trousers, but nodded and gestured to a person in a tower above said gates.
As they began to open, making a loud, grating sound as they did, Balin turned to Belladonna.
"Welcome," he said, "to Erebor."
They were joined, around fifteen minutes into their walk to wherever they were going, by a tall Dwarf, his hair gone completely on his head, but owning a long, thick beard that reached his chest. He looked down at Belladonna through thick eyebrows, eyes showing surprise.
"Your One?"
Balin shook his head. "No, she's not. Belladonna, this is Dwalin, my brother. Dwalin, this is Belladonna. She's Durjel's granddaughter."
"Durjel? You mean our father's cousin?"
"She bears his ring and knows his name and story."
The suspicious look that had been on Dwalin's face lifted and he gave her a smile. "Pleased to meet you, Belladonna."
"As am I, it's very nice to meet you."
"What brings you to Erebor?"
"I...I have nowhere else to go," Belladonna murmured.
Dwalin glanced curiously over to Balin, who lay a hand on his new-found kin's arm. "We're nearly back to our place now, lass. We'll get you and your baby rested shortly."
"Baby?" Dwalin asked.
"Mmm. I'm pregnant."
Dwalin was staring at her with wide, astounded eyes. "That's... when is it due?"
Balin fought a smile. Not many knew, but Dwalin had a ridiculously sweet soft spot for babies. Memories of his brother carrying the young princes (and princess) of Erebor in his muscled arms swam in his mind and he nearly did smile at the thought of Dwalin's delight at seeing a Hobbitling. Probably Belladonna would have to fight to be able to hold her baby once he was born.
Belladonna felt warmed immediately once she entered the stone home. Outside it looked dark, damp and cold. Inside it was bright, warm and dry, despite the fact it was stone inside too. There were thick, fur rugs covering the floor, swords and spears and axes covering the walls.
"Go on and sit," Dwalin said, pointing to a chair of a deep, red material.
She did, and it was comfortable, so comfortable, that it exploited the feelings of tiredness that continued to plague her and she could hardly stop her eyes from drooping. Though she fought the need, the urge to sleep overcame her wishes and she soon drifted to a place of darkness, where metal clanged and fire roared.
Bit short, but wasn't a bad chapter, was it? Could've been worse, I suppose. Hope you enjoyed!
Love from Shania. xx
