After the spar, the three of us returned to our rooms. Kili stayed with me that night and laid beside me in bed on top of the covers until I fell asleep. We spent our time talking, discussing the future and what it held for us. We knew that we would be married, but the discussion then led to the topic of a family. Children. The topic I most wanted to avoid.

"Aeyera, your Morgul wound," Kili began. He was stretched out next to me on the bed, his arms tucked under his head. He had washed up and changed into fresh clothes before visiting me, so until now I had had no desire for him to leave the bed. My opinion was changing, however, and I was beginning to wonder if I would have to push him off to avoid the conversation. "I could not help but notice where it was placed."

How much force would it require for me to push him off in one shove? "Yes?" If we reached the topic of children, I was in deep trouble. Although I had never lied to Kili about my inability to bear a child, I had never told him either. The truth was, I did not know. I did not know if I could bear children or not. Before I was healed of my Morgul wound, I knew I could not, but now I was hopeful that I could. I could not tell.

"You… you can't carry or bear children, can you?" I looked up at Kili as tears stung my eyes, unable to answer. He nodded at my silence and pulled me close to him as I released a broken sob, shaking and burying my face in his shoulder. "It is alright, Aeyera," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me tightly. "You don't have to be strong here. Let it go."

"I'm s-so sorry," I cried. "I didn't know how to tell you, and I was never sure if I could bear them or not—"

He ran his fingers through my hair, whispering in my ear. "It's alright, my darling. It's alright. I love you, Aeyera, it's alright."

After a while my sobs ceased and the two of us laid in silence, holding one another. "I love you, Kili," I whispered into his chest.

He hummed and rubbed my back, making goosebumps appear on my skin wherever his fingertips touched. "I love you," he murmured. "Whether we can have children or not, I love you, and I always will. I promise."

And somehow, in my heart of hearts, despite all the promises I had made and been given, this one stuck with me, and I knew it to be utterly and completely true. We fell asleep that night in each other's arms, and for the first time, I had no dreams, for I was safe in my beloved's arms.

It was the next afternoon when everything began to go wrong. I was with Balin and Dwalin, helping them catalogue the treasure, when Thorin called the three of us into the throne room. I stayed close to the two warriors, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than was necessary. Thorin alternated from stalking around his throne to sitting uneasily upon it, blue eyes shifting round the room and landing upon me frequently. Darkness clung to him and madness radiated off him. It frightened me to be in the same room as he. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew about Kili and I, and I shook the thought off, too afraid to consider it. Bilbo stood at the edge of the platform that held the throne, silent as a shadow. His lips were pursed together, and he stared straight ahead. He seemed frightened, and I didn't blame him: particularly if he possessed the secret I thought he did.

Thorin took a deep breath as we settled in around him. I stood shoulder to shoulder beside Dwalin and Balin, the two of them standing protectively close me.

"What does he want?" I whispered, keeping my hands folded in front of me to avoid suspicion, to show Thorin I had no weapons concealed behind my back. A sudden pain in my lower abdomen made me double over with a gasp, gripping my middle.

"He has not yet found the King's Jewel," Dwalin murmured back, folding his burly arms across his chest. He eyes me apprehensively. "Are you alright?" I nodded in confirmation. My thoughts and eyes immediately flitted to Bilbo, and I prayed that the hobbit did not have the stone as I suspected. I prayed that I was wrong, that Bilbo held some other forbidden trinket, anything but the Arkenstone.

Thorin began to speak as if to himself, his words a low hiss. He faced his ruined throne, gazing at the gash in the stone made by a dragon's claw where the Arkenstone had once resided. I wondered if this was a continued conversation or if it was the first time these words had been spoken aloud. "It is here in these halls, I know it."

Dwalin glanced at me helplessly before turning his eyes to the king. "We have searched and searched," he began.

"Not well enough," Thorin barked, cutting him off. The king was hunched over his throne, gripping the armrests tightly. His head was bowed, and his voice carried a raspy growl at their edge.

Dwalin glanced between his brother and I before once again looking to Thorin, trying his utmost to speak reason into him. "Thorin, we all would see the stone returned."

"And yet it's still not found!" The word 'found' echoed round and round the chamber.

Balin looked his brother and I in the eye, and he gestured to the two of us and Bilbo. "Do you doubt the loyalty of anyone here?" He looked then to Thorin as the king turned to face us. I wished he hadn't turned around. This possessed Thorin was very close to joining my father and Azog in the ranks of the beings in Middle Earth whom I feared most. He strode forward until he stood upon the edge of the platform looking down the stairs at us. "The Arkenstone is the birthright of our people," Balin finished softly. Another bolt of pain hit me, and I dug my fingers into my skin, massaging the area as discretely as I dared. I felt weak and nauseous suddenly, and I touched Balin's sleeve as I swayed.

Thorin ground his teeth together, rage showing in every line upon his face even though his voice was filled with deadly calm. He annunciated every word slowly and clearly. "It is the King's jewel." His voice rose to a shout as he lost any semblance of control he had previously held, and I flinched back. "Am I not the King?!" Bilbo stared at him, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. The grieved looks of the dwarf brothers' faces nearly broke my heart. "Know this," Thorin growled, turning his head and staring me in the eye. "If anyone should find it, and withhold it from me, I will be avenged."

He turned and faced the wall. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, calming my frazzled nerves, and then followed Balin and Dwalin out of the room to continue my work. I moved slowly, doing my best not to disturb whatever it was that pained me so.

We had worked that day by torchlight and lamplight, and it was there in the library, after sending me away to fetch some scroll or another, that Balin broke. He sat at his worktable, one hand resting upon the top and the other covering his mouth as he pressed his eyes shut. His shoulders shook. I recognized the look of despair in his face, and my heart broke for him. It was hard to forget sometimes that these Dwarves loved Thorin no matter his faults, and that others besides me were affected by his actions. He removed his hand from his mouth and took deep breaths as tears began to drip down his face.

"Balin?"

He opened his eyes and swiped a hand across them, wiping away the tears. "Ah, Aeyera, my dear, I did not hear you come in."

"I am sorry about Thorin," I told him softly, running my ringers over my slightly bloated abdomen. "Truly I am."

He took another shuddering breath and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed my cheek to his forehead, feeling his pain as sharply as if it were my own. I looked up to see Bilbo standing in the doorway, watching the pair of us with bright eyes. "I-I'm sorry to interrupt," he said quickly. "But I was wondering if I might have a word?"

I nodded and stood, leaving my hand on Balin's shoulder, and Bilbo approached, ringing his hands together. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, glancing at me but directing his question to Balin, having already heard my thoughts on the matter. "Thorin," he clarified, although there was no real need to do so. "What's wrong with Thorin?"

After a few moments of steeling himself, it was Balin who answered. "Dragon sickness," Balin told him, taking a shuddering breath. "I've seen it before. That look," his face contorted with sorrow as he struggled to force down the despair he felt. He clenched his fist as I looked on, horror and grief weighing heavily upon my heart, "the terrible need. It is a fierce and jealous love, Bilbo. It sent his grandfather mad."

Bilbo stepped forward, watching the pair of us with wary, yet hopeful, eyes. "Balin, if-if Thorin had the Arkenstone," he began. He stopped and glanced at me, thought for a moment, and then continued. Balin stared at Bilbo with an expression I could not quite name, though if I had to guess it would be a mix of astonishment, recognition, and fear. I had a gut feeling that he knew, or guessed, like I had, that Bilbo had the stone. "Well, if it—if it was found… would it help?"

Balin glanced at me, then at Bilbo, and released a trembling breath. "That stone crowns all," he explained, gesturing around the room. "It is the summit of this great wealth, bestowing power upon he who bears it. Would it stay his madness? No, laddie," his voice broke as dread seeped into my bones, confirming the fears I had already had. "I fear it would make it worse. Perhaps it is best it remains lost."

Throughout this conversation, Bilbo's face had gone ashen, and now he stared at Balin with wide eyes and a horrified expression. His fingers twitched towards his pocket.

"Balin, might I have a moment to speak with Bilbo?" I asked him suddenly. "I will return soon."

He shook his head and pushed me gently towards the door. "Go, Princess. You don't need to come back. Go speak to the Princes once you are done; tell them of what you heard."

I nodded mutely and swept Bilbo before me out of the room.

"You were right," he said, staring straight ahead. He sniffed and swiped his knuckles across his nose, looking as though he had aged ten years in a matter of moments. "You were right about everything, I should have listened." I stood in silence, and he looked up at me, eyes wide.

I recognized the resolve in them, and leapt forward, barring the path. "No, Bilbo, no—"

"I have to do something," he pressed, ducking under my outstretched arm.

"Wait, Bilbo," I told him, taking hold of his sleeve and holding him in place. "The survivors from Laketown, they are heading for Dale. I had thought they might reach it by nightfall, but because of the cold, they were hindered. They will rest for the night, but by tomorrow evening they will reach the city. Do you understand, Bilbo? Once he hears of this, he will forget about the Arkenstone, if only for a moment. If you know where it is, you can get rid of it then. Do you understand me?"

He stared at me with wide eyes. "There were survivors?" he asked.

I nodded, exasperated. "Yes, of course. But do you understand me, Bilbo? You must wait for the opportune moment."

He nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good." He turned and strode down the corridor. "And Bilbo?" He turned and looked me in the eye. It hit me how much he had changed, from the stiff, worried hobbit I had met in Bag End to the weathered, brave one who stood before me. "Be careful," I said, at a loss for words. He nodded and gave me a tightlipped smile, then disappeared around the next corner.

I sighed. I really hoped he would be careful. I glanced down the hall in both directions; no one was coming. A moment later I was sprinting up the corridors towards the princes' room as far as my feet could carry me, a grin across my face. I loved to run. Unfortunately, there were few chances of it indoors, but I loved it all the same. Except for the stairs. I was not a fan of the stairs.

Every now and again I would slip on some discarded piece of jewelry or coins or rubble, and my hands and knees stung from scraping the ground so often. The stairs and corridors were vast and numerous, and though many were lit by torches or windows, some were as dark as pitch. These, unfortunately, were the ones with jewelry in them. Beads especially did their utmost to prevent me from reaching my room, making me slip back down the hall or staircase more than once. That reminded me, I needed to make Kili a courting bead. Many times as I ran, the sudden aching, cramping pain would hit me and I would stumble or trip. I had no idea of what was causing this, and I was worried.

Eventually, despite the mountain's and my body's attempts to stop me, I reached the top of the staircase leading to my and the princes' rooms. I bent over, breathing only a bit heavier than normal, and grinned. One of the perks of being an elf was that I rarely became tired from running. Unfortunately, it seemed that my decision to forgo my immortality had somewhat drained me of stamina as well, since normally I could run leagues without pausing to catch my breath.

"Kili? Fili? I need to speak with you." I knocked on their door loudly, then stepped back and waited for them to open it. At that moment, I felt a curious sensation as liquid began to make its way down my leggings. "Wait, no, forget it!"

I darted into my room and slammed and locked the door. My breath came out in quick, short pants as I stripped, throwing my clothing to the floor. I fell over in shock on the cold stone before the fireplace and covered my mouth with my hand, choking on sobs. Blood streaked my thighs. There was only one explanation for why my time had started so suddenly: I had been healed. I could bear children.

I quickly cleaned up and fixed cloth to prevent blood from going everywhere, then put on a clean set of clothing. Tears ran down my face the entire time. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold onto the soiled cloth as I washed it, cleaning off the blood.

Someone knocked on my door. "Aeyera? Are you alright?" Kili.

I laid the dripping clothing before the fire, then made my way to the door as quickly as possible, made difficult because of the cloth. My movement was more waddle than walk, if I am being completely honest. I doubted that, with the exception of being tortured, I had ever been so uncomfortable.

I threw open the door. Kili and Fili stood there, looking concerned. Kili's expression grew alarmed when he took in my tear-streaked face. He placed his hands on my upper arms, looking me over for some sort of wound. "Aeyera, are you alright? Are you hurt?"

I let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. His arms automatically went around my waist, although he still was confused. "I do not understand, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, Kili—" I pulled back and smiled through the tears. "Kili I can have children. The Valar healed me, Kili—we can have a family!"

If someone were asked to paint a picture of perfect joy and wonder, it would look exactly like Kili's face in that moment. He stared at me for a split second, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and then he wept. He pulled me close to him and pressed his face to the crook of my neck as mine pressed into his. I could feel his tears wetting my neck. Tears of joy poured down both our faces and even Fili's eyes sparkled with tears, a few escaping to drip down his cheeks.

"We can have a family," Kili whispered, his breath hot on my neck. "Oh Mahal, thank you—"

I smiled and choked on another sob, then laughed as Kili spun me around, a bright smile on his face as he set me gently on my feet and kissed me full on the mouth. "I love you," he told me, pulling back and staring me in the eye. His dark eyes shone with adoration and love, and I smiled back and kissed him again.

"I love you," I murmured, resting my forehead on his shoulder. I felt exhausted, and my middle—my womb, I supposed—ached.

"Was this what you wanted to tell us?" Fili asked, grinning at me. "You came and banged on the door and then left. Was this it?"

I remembered Thorin's proclamation, and my smile slipped a bit from my face. "No. Come inside, I will tell you there."

I led the brothers inside, and the three of us sat on the bed. Kili and I rested in each other's arms while Fili sat alone a few feet away, fingering his betrothal braid. I look a deep breath and rested my palm against my abdomen. "I worked with Balin today in the library, cataloging the treasure. Thorin called us and Dwalin into the throne room, and Bilbo was already there…"

I proceeded to tell them the whole story, with the exception of my somewhat-knowledge of Bilbo's possession of the Arkenstone. "So he thinks one of us has it then," Kili muttered, frowning at the bedcoverings.

"I believe so. Kili, I don't know what to do."

"You do not need to do anything, Princess," Fili interrupted sternly. "You are already on Thorin's bad side, we do not need you getting ejected from the mountain, especially not now."

"But—"

Kili took my hand. "Trust us," he murmured, kissing my forehead. "Everything will be alright. We will make him see sense, do not worry."

"It is not you who worry me," I whispered softly. I nuzzled my forehead to Kili's shoulder as my eyes drooped shut. My body relaxed, although I continued to ache for a long time. The brothers did not move but rested there until I fell asleep; perhaps longer, guarding me from the night. I fell asleep in my fiancé's arms and slept dreamlessly, but shadows stirred at the edge of my mind, warning me of the days to come.