A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your amazing response to Chapter Fourteen, and for sending me all your Dís headcanons/suggestions. They've been an enormous help and I should hopefully be able to incorporate all your proposed interactions into the next couple of chapters.

PLEASE READ: Don't worry, it's nothing too catastrophic! I just wanted to warn you all that there are actually only a few chapters left of 'Bring Them Home'. The fic has always had a very fixed end-point in my mind (and many of you have guessed what that is already) and it's the conclusion I've always been working towards. However, I will admit that I have created an AU timeline for 'Bring Them Home' which extends well into the Fourth Age, so if, after the end of the fic, anyone is curious about who Fíli and Kíli marry and how their children fare, please do drop me a PM and I'll happily ramble on about my headcanons. Alternatively, if people are interested, I could post a timeline as an appendix after the final chapter.

Soulfert: Thank you so much for reading! Unfortunately the site has deleted your email address from your comment, so maybe try sending it again using spaces or brackets? (e.g. email. address at (Yahoo) . com)

Right, that was a ridiculously long Author's Note! Now, I think it's about time Dís was reunited with her boys…

As soon as Kíli stepped through the west archway, all eyes around the company's fire darted up to meet his own. Most were filled with variants of concern and anxiety, but Legolas' blue gaze was also tinged with guilt. Kíli tried to avoid the blonde elf's eye as he approached the fire and settled next to Dwalin and Ori.

"How is he?" Estel asked finally, after a tense moment of silence.

"Still a little shaken," Kíli admitted. "He just needs some time to… process everything."

There were nods and murmurings from all present, mingled with a few vengeful mutters, which Kíli guessed came from Dwalin to his right. Fíli had been very quiet as they returned into the Mountain and made the journey to their room on the upper corridor. He hadn't said a word about Thranduil's revelation, but Kíli always knew it was going to be difficult for Fíli to come to terms with his new epithet. Maybe that was why he had taken such great pains to ensure his brother didn't hear it until he was ready… and he had always envisioned himself to be the one to tell him. He resented the fact that Thranduil had beaten him to it.

"My father did not mean any harm," Legolas said suddenly, and Kíli looked up to find the elf watching him intently.

Kíli felt his stomach clench, and there was a noticeable frostiness in the air despite the fire's usually friendly glow. He knew Thranduil's blunder, intentional or not, wasn't his son's fault. He also knew they owed Legolas an awful lot, and dreaded to think what might have happened if the prince hadn't offered to ride to Rivendell. But still he wondered why Legolas was defending the father who had threatened to disown him more than once that week. Unsure of how to reply, Kíli looked to Gandalf, hoping the wizard would be able to do something to ease the tension.

However, before Gandalf could intervene, Dwalin was cracking his tattooed knuckles. "Didn't mean any harm?" he growled. "No, he just enjoys causing chaos and leaving others to clear up his mess."

"It wasn't his place to address Fíli like that," Dori agreed, narrowing his eyes at Legolas across the fire.

Legolas paled slightly under Dwalin and Dori's black glares, and his blue eyes flitted to Estel in a split-second moment of panic. Kíli reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose; it was the perfect imitation of his mother when he and Fíli were making a nuisance of themselves. He knew the two older dwarves had done their best to behave cordially towards the Rivendell party, but now it seemed Legolas was one elf too many and Dwalin and Dori's patience was being pushed to the limit.

"Thranduil does have a penchant for theatrics," Gandalf said calmly, peering around the extended company, from dwarf to elf, with a soft smile. "But at least we no longer have to worry about how best to introduce Fíli to his new name."

Kíli sighed when the wizard caught his eye. Gandalf's optimism could rival Bofur's sometimes. Although he still wasn't pleased with the situation, Kíli was about to second Gandalf's comment, and hopefully put an end to the matter, when he felt a burst of cold air slap the back of his neck.

"Oh, what now?" Dori grumbled, as the familiar groan of the Front Gate's wicket door being opened filled the Entrance Hall.

Kíli turned around, expecting to discover that the Elvenking had in fact changed his mind and was going to be dragging Legolas back to Mirkwood… and was therefore thoroughly unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. Four ponies clopped wearily in single-file through the Gate's smaller inset door, and then clustered together in the Entrance Hall. The first carried Glóin, the second, Nori, the third, Bombur, and the fourth, dappled grey pony carried Dís into Erebor; the home she hadn't seen in well over a century.

Kíli heard the shouts rise up from the company around him, but then the world went silent as he stared at his mother with wide eyes, too stunned to move as his breath caught in his throat. He daren't blink for fear that she might disappear again and part of him was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him. With his heart pumping rapidly in his chest, Kíli watched as Glóin and Nori dropped down from their ponies and quickly moved to Dís to her help her dismount… but she batted their hands away and dismounted easily on her own. And that was the moment Kíli knew he wasn't imagining it. His mother was really here.

All of a sudden he was on his feet, and the sounds of the Hall gushed back into his ears like a gust of wind. With an enormous grin on his lips and his heart threatening to burst right out of his chest, Kíli sprinted towards Dís as if he were a dwarfling again. Her alert blue eyes had been scanning the Entrance Hall, but as soon as Kíli leapt up, she spotted him and a smile broke out on her face like a shaft of light. She had just enough time to open her arms before Kíli skidded to a stop – narrowly avoiding knocking into her – and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Kíli wrapped his arms around his mother and had to stoop a little to rest his chin on her shoulder. Relief and joy swelled in his chest as he held her tighter still, but then his heart jolted. She was definitely thinner than when they had said goodbye in Ered Luin, and there were more streaks of silver in her dark hair. Screwing up his eyes, Kíli pushed his nose into the soft fabric of her black dress, comforted by his mother's warm, familiar scent. But then her hands suddenly closed around his shoulders and pulled him away.

"Fíli?" she breathed, her face pale as she peered up at him with a strained expression.

"He's all right, Mama. He's just resting at the moment," Kíli replied, unnerved by the fear in his mother's eyes.

Dís' shoulders sagged as she let out an audible breath and pulled Kíli back into her arms. It suddenly struck Kíli that when Glóin, Nori, and Bombur had left for the Blue Mountains, Fíli's condition had been critical… and his survival not guaranteed. His mother had arrived in Erebor not knowing if she was wearing black for her eldest son as well as her brother. That thought made his chest ache as the image of Thorin lying in Thrór's bedchamber flashed in front of his eyes. He held Dís closer, pressing his cheek against her shoulder, waiting for the memory to fade… which, surprisingly, it did. Kíli was relieved to find his mother, after all these years, still had the power to chase his black thoughts away. And now his head was filled with all Fíli had accomplished in the past few weeks: attending Thorin's funeral, returning to the company's fireside, visiting the infirmary, dealing with dwarflings… and Thranduil.

"You're going to be so proud of him," Kíli whispered, his voice cracking.

"I'm proud of both of you," came his mother's murmured but firm reply.

The cry rose in Kíli's throat, and he bit down on his lip, trying to contain it. But then the tears began blurring his vision as everything that had happened came crashing down upon him. His fingers curled around Dís' dress as he started to shake, and at that moment his only thought was just how much he had missed her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Dís said softly, as the first sob broke from Kíli's lips. She moved one hand to the back of his head and the other began drawing soothing circles on his shuddering shoulders.

Kíli fought against his sobs, focusing on the calming movements of his mother's hand, and tried to control his choked breaths. After a few long moments, Dís kissed the top of his head, then gently pulled him away. If he and Fíli got upset when they were younger, Dís always allowed them time to cry, but she would never let them get too worked up. She would decide when they had cried enough and then help them sort themselves out and perk up. Kíli knew he had been given his time and as he straightened up, his mother's hands reached for his face. With her thumbs, she carefully wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Now, I believe some introductions are in order?" Dís looked from Kíli to the company's fire behind him.

Kíli turned around to see that the company, including Bilbo and Gandalf, were all excitedly engaged in welcoming back Glóin, Nori, and Bombur. Nori was ruffling Ori's hair and even indulging Dori's fussing and Bifur was signing enthusiastically to Bombur. But there was also a group of elves and a man that stuck out like a sore thumb as they hovered on the edge of the reunions. Kíli glanced back at Dís, unsure of how much the others had told her about Rivendell and these unexpected additions. His mother's expression was inscrutable and gave away nothing, though Kíli did sense her wariness.

He nodded and gestured to the fire. As they approached, the company quietened and all turned to face them. Kíli recognised the looks of reverence previously reserved for Thorin as they lowered their heads in respect, and Bofur pulled off his hat as he bowed. Dís' eyes flitted to the elves standing to her left, but her attentions remained on those assembled in front of her as she looked over all of them with a small smile. Her gaze lingered on Gandalf, then on Bilbo for a time, but her eyes continued to scan the company until they came to rest on Balin.

"Balin," she said quietly, with a nod to the white-haired dwarf.

"My lady," Balin smiled, bowing once more. "It fills my heart with joy to see you again."

Dwalin, standing at his brother's side, rolled his eyes – something which wasn't missed by Dís. "You never were one for poetry, were you, Dwalin?" she said wryly, taking a step towards the taller dwarf.

Kíli felt his chest tighten as he saw his mother's amused expression falter at the shadow that passed over Dwalin's eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments, and Kíli knew there was a silent exchange going on, communicated only through the slightest changes in facial expressions… made possible by over a century of friendship.

Dwalin's gaze finally dropped to his feet. "I'm… I'm so sorry," he choked out, fidgeting with his hands like a dwarf half his age.

Dís moved forward and closed her hands over Dwalin's to still them. "So am I," she whispered, peering up at him with the saddest smile, and it was breaking Kíli's heart.

Kíli looked away, not wanting to intrude on his mother's sharing of grief with one of her oldest friends, but then he heard Dwalin murmur something. His voice was so small, Kíli almost didn't catch it, but he knew what he had heard: "I failed him."

With icy claws fastening around his heart, Kíli turned back to his mother just in time to see her pull Dwalin firmly into her arms. Aside from the incident outside Fíli's tent all those weeks ago, he had never known Dwalin embrace anyone before, and it was strange to see how his towering form was suddenly diminished by Dís' arms. She held Dwalin as if he were her third child, and as Kíli had witnessed her scold him as such on many occasions, embracing him in this way didn't seem odd. Balin was clearly thinking along the same lines and he exchanged a small smile with Kíli. However, the dwarves not familiar with this dynamic such as Dori, Nori, and Ori seemed fairly stumped by the embrace, and Legolas and the Rivendell party were positively dumbfounded.

Finally, Dís nudged Dwalin's head from her shoulder and he straightened up with an awkward cough, immediately turning to glare at the elves and Estel who were tactfully pretending they hadn't seen anything. Kíli saw the last flicker of pain on Dís' face vanish as she followed Dwalin's gaze. Her wry smile returned.

"Well, Dwalin, unless my old eyes are playing tricks on me, I do believe I can see several elves whom you have left unscathed," she said, turning to address the company's newest additions.

Dwalin muttered something as his eyes moved to Legolas. Kíli was sure Dís had heard him, but she didn't comment. Kíli took a step forward, knowing it would fall to him to give introductions… and he didn't trust anyone else to do it without causing tensions to flare once again.

"Mama, this is Lady Arwen and her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, the children of Lord Elrond of Rivendell. And Estel, Lord Elrond's ward."

The Rivendell party all lowered their heads, mimicking the company's greeting, and Dís returned a slow, cautious nod. She looked Arwen up and down, but it was Estel who received most of her scrutiny, as if she already knew what a pivotal role he had played with Fíli that winter.

"I've heard a lot about you all," Dís said carefully, glancing behind her at Glóin, Nori, and Bombur, who had obviously told her about their stay in Imladris. But they would not have been able to tell her what they were doing in Erebor. Kíli saw them exchanging perplexed looks and turning to their brothers for answers.

"And this is Legolas of the Woodland Realm," Kíli said, gesturing to the blonde elf, who bowed low.

Dís stiffened slightly, raising an eyebrow as her eyes moved back to Kíli. But it was Glóin who spoke next.

"Does your father know you're still here?" Glóin asked, narrowing his eyes at Legolas.

There had been an unfortunate incident in Mirkwood where Legolas had made a rather unpleasant comment about the picture of Glóin's wife in the locket he was carrying. Kíli suspected that the red-haired dwarf was not going to be so quick to forgive or forget, and would take any opportunity to torture the elf.

"I assure you, Master Glóin, that my father is all too aware of my presence here," Legolas replied calmly, though he shifted closer to Estel.

"Then what, may I ask, are you doing here?" Glóin pressed, his voice rising.

"I was sent to Rivendell to collect Estel," Legolas answered. "I am only staying in Erebor to witness the outcome of my journey. I will be leaving after Fíli's coronation."

Kíli froze. His brown eyes widened, and he didn't dare turn to look at his mother. He could only stare at Legolas, wondering if tactlessness was, in fact, an inherited trait.

"Coronation?" Dís whispered, and when Kíli did turn to her, she fixed him with a searching, blue stare.

"Nothing's been organised, Mama," Kíli said quickly. "Fíli isn't ready yet… But he…"

Kíli trailed off. There was so much he needed to tell his mother, and so much to be explained. It felt like all the time in the world wouldn't be able to do the past few months justice. Panicking, Kíli's eyes did a quick sweep of the company before returning to Dís.

Sighing, Dís put a hand on his arm, as if to calm him. "I need to see him," she said, her lips barely moving. "Please, Kíli… Take me to your brother."

Kíli slowed his step as he and Dís turned into the upper corridor. On their journey there, he had told her a very condensed version of events since the battle before the Front Gate, and now silence took over as he left her to her thoughts. Dís' blue eyes moved from wall to wall as they walked, and with a painful tug in his stomach, Kíli recognised her look of memory-filled wonder as the one Thorin had worn when they first entered the Mountain. He knew she was remembering her childhood, and her step was heavy with the weight of it all.

They reached the door to his and Fíli's room and Dís paused, turning to study her son with a curious expression. "Thorin and Frerin's room?" she murmured, knitting her black brows together.

"We… we didn't know," Kíli explained. "It was just one of the first rooms we found that was, well, inhabitable. Dwalin told me a few days after we moved in."

Dís looked from Kíli to the door in front of her, and a small smile twitched up one corner of her mouth. "Sometimes Aulë has a strange sense of humour," she said quietly.

Kíli glanced across at her, mirroring her smile, and then slowly opened the door. When he had left, Fíli had been awake, but now they found him sleeping soundly in his bed. They both crept across the room to his side, and Dís slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. Her gaze lingered on the crutches that were leaning against the bedside table, but then turned to her golden-haired son, who remained fast asleep. She reached out and placed one hand over Fíli's, which was resting on his stomach, and began to gently stroke his hair with the other, smoothing it back from his forehead. It was the way Kíli used to wake Fíli in the dark days of the tent encampment; he had been attempting to emulate his mother, but seeing her with Fíli now, he sensed that he hadn't even come close.

Fíli stirred with a soft mumble of 'Kíli' that made his brother's chest tighten. His blue eyes fluttered open and they were still dull and cloudy with sleep. Kíli knew he couldn't have been asleep for long and must have therefore been unexpectedly dredged up from the greatest depths of dreaming. Blinking rapidly, his bleary eyes finally locked on Dís, and his whole body went rigid. The blue of his gaze suddenly became bright and alert as his eyes widened.

"Mama?" he gasped, the disbelief written all over his stricken features.

"Hello, love," Dís said, her hand travelling down from his forehead to brush a stray strand behind his ear.

Fíli quickly struggled to sit up, and pressed his own hand over his mother's, holding it against his cheek. He stared at her as his eyes began to shine and his breathing became choked.

As the first tear touched Dís' fingertip, she let her hand fall away and opened her arms to him. "Come here, Fíli," she whispered.

As soon as the words left her lips, Fíli flew to her. Kíli instinctively took a step back, but Dís wasn't fazed by her eldest son's sudden movement, and didn't budge from her spot on the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him as he hunched into her, and rested her chin on his hair.

Fíli croaked out another 'Mama', before burying his face in Dís' shoulder and losing his voice to his sobs. Kíli was glad he was referring to her as 'Mama' again. In the years since he came of age, Fíli had been using 'Mother' instead in an attempt to throw off his young aura and embrace his status as Thorin's heir… but Kíli knew Dís secretly resented the moniker, and had never fully followed Fíli in using it.

Fíli clung to Dís as if he were scared that she would disappear the second he let go. His chest was threatening to burst with the spectrum of emotions that were pulsing through him as he held her tighter. A war raged in his heart between the absolute joy at seeing his mother again and the blackness of the pain and grief she carried with her. He had forgotten just how much she looked like Thorin, and that thought alone was enough to bring a permanent lump to his throat. His arms settled around Dís' waist and his cries quietened as he realised the difference… she was thinner than he remembered. He had also noted the paler colour in her cheeks and how her beard was greying at her temples. Slowly lifting his head, he blinked away his tears and peered over his mother's shoulder at Kíli, standing behind them. The look on Kíli's face told him that he had noticed too.

Before Fíli could comment on it, he felt Dís' fingers brush one of the raised scars on his back. He knew she could trace the line of lumpy flesh through his thin cotton shirt and her hand froze. Fíli pulled away from her and the hand withdrew to her side, but she still wore a pained expression, her blue eyes dark.

"I'm all right, Mama," Fíli said gently.

He knew she wouldn't believe that for a second, but he would do anything to try and lessen his mother's pain… and he wasn't going to let a scar that no longer troubled him be another source of distress for her.

"Did everyone arrive back safely?" he asked seriously, his brow furrowed.

"Yes," Dís replied, glancing behind at Kíli. "Glóin, Nori, and Bombur are settling back in as we speak."

"And you didn't run into any difficulties on the road?" Fíli pressed, in the same authoritative tone, his voice low with concern.

His mother was staring at him with a strange expression. At first he couldn't quite fathom it, but then an unnerving thought occurred to him and he understood. Dís continued to study him, at a loss for words, her blue eyes heavy with an ache he knew all too well.

"I'm sorry," Fíli said, his voice wavering. "I'm so sorry, Mama…"

"Hush, Fíli." Dís' tone was stern, but it was a maternal sternness he recognised. "We'll have none of that."

Fíli nodded, his gaze dropping into his lap. With a sigh, Dís wrapped one arm around him again and, turning, held the other out to Kíli. The remaining Durins then huddled together on the bed, arms wrapped around each other, silently sharing in their grief. Fíli pressed his face to his mother's shoulder and Kíli, at his side, snuggled into the other.

"Aulë knows how much I've missed you," Dís said softly, after a few moments. "And you've changed… You both have." She held her sons closer. "My darling boys… You've grown up."

It was the next logical step. She had been reunited with both her sons… It was only fitting that she should then go to her brother. The vault was cold and dark. Just how she remembered it from the one family funeral she had attended as a child. Kíli had taken Fíli to meet the newly returned members of the company, and she had slipped away, heading deep into the heart of the Mountain. She wasn't sure how she knew her way there. But something in her very bones sensed the path, as if Thorin was calling out to her from the ancient stone.

Now here he was before her. Finally part of the Mountain he had loved so much. Dís' blue eyes travelled over the inscription carved into the smooth lid of the tomb and her fingers, trembling only slightly, reached out to touch the cold stone. It was as icy as she expected, but still she laid her hand flat against the tomb, only wishing she could have laid her hand on her brother's breast, one final time. She would never see Thorin's face again. There had been time on her long journey to reconcile herself to that fact, and in the end, it didn't matter, because his face was all she saw in her mind's eye anyway. She always tried to focus her thoughts on his rare moments of happiness, and the memory that had comforted her over many months returned once again…

No longer being able to see her feet because of her ballooned stomach had, at first, come as quite a shock… and it made retrieving fallen objects quite problematic. But now Dís was used to being greeted by the enormous bump whenever she looked down. She had not taken to pregnancy like a duck to water. Giving up work in the forge and being exiled to the house had been hard, and the first few months had been lonely… that was, until the baby started to kick. Then she realised she wasn't quite so alone; she and her baby were in this together. A lifetime of loss had hardened her to many things, but as her stomach began to swell, something within her thawed and finally, the maternal instincts took hold.

The baby gave another violent kick and Dís let out a low hiss, one hand shooting out to clutch the table.

"All right?" came the low, concerned voice of Thorin standing in the corner of the kitchen.

Dís straightened up, gently rubbing her stomach. "He's kicking a lot today," she replied, turning to her brother. She wasn't sure why she was so certain it was a boy. She just knew.

"Hush, little one," she whispered to her stomach, but the baby continued to kick with a vengeance. He was already full of Durin stubbornness. He gave another sharp jab to her left side, and she let out a groan, one hand jumping to her back.

Thorin crossed the kitchen in an instant and came to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You should sit down," he murmured, his brow furrowed.

"So should you," Dís retorted, looking pointedly up into her brother's tired eyes.

She then regretted being so short with him. Thorin was trying his best, and she could ask no more than that. The guilt returned as she glanced down at her stomach. He had been beginning to draw up plans for a quest to reclaim Erebor when she fell pregnant. Dwalin told her so. But as soon as news of her condition reached him, all preparations were halted. She still saw the Mountain reflected in his eyes every time he looked at her, and she knew the dream he was giving up to stay with her.

Thorin made to move away, but she caught his hands. "He always kicks when you come home," she said quietly, and then carefully placed Thorin's hands against her stomach.

At first, Thorin flinched away. He had never touched her bump before, and Dís suspected he was actually scared of it… but then the baby kicked, and Thorin's eyes widened. A smile Dís hadn't seen for months and months broke out on his lips and it lit up his entire face. His gaze filled with wonder, he slowly lowered himself onto one knee so that he was eye-level with her stomach, as if he felt he was in the presence of something divine, and his smile never faltered. The baby continued to kick excitedly and Dís sucked in deep breaths to stop herself from hunching over.

"He's going to be a fighter," Thorin said, peering up at her, grinning. "Like his father."

Dís stared back down at her brother, her hand moving over his. "Like his uncle," she whispered.

"Mama?"

Dís was dragged from the memory with a jolt. The kitchen in Ered Luin dissolved into the black walls of the vault, but she found she was clutching her stomach, as if she were still holding Thorin's hand there. She turned to find her second bump standing in front of her and wondered why she couldn't see him clearly. It was then that she realised she was crying.

Kíli stared at his mother, his heart thumping in his chest. She was holding her stomach as she leant over Thorin's tomb and it frightened him… Was she ill? It was something Dís would do: keep sickness a secret. And she was crying. He could see the glittering tracks of tears shining on her pale cheeks, and it took her a long time to reach up and hastily wipe them away. He had only ever seen his mother cry once before.

She had cried more than once in his life-time, of course, and he would never forget the day Fíli told him about the nights she spent crying after their father died. He wasn't old enough to remember, but Fíli said she would cry at the kitchen table downstairs, before Thorin came home, but after she thought he was asleep. Fíli cried with her too most nights, as he lay in his bed, listening to her through the floor… but one evening he crept down the rickety wooden stairs into the kitchen and climbed into her lap. At six years old, Fíli held his mother, and begged her not to cry… and he never heard her cry again after that. But Kíli did.

Another argument had broken out in their household about the quest for Erebor. Or, more specifically, about his and Fíli's joining it. Dís and Thorin had done most of the arguing, and Kíli had been left in no doubt about the fact that Dís could match her brother for temper as well as stubbornness. It wasn't clear who had won the fight, but Thorin had slammed out of the house and hadn't returned until the early hours of the morning. Kíli and Fíli had felt so guilty; Thorin was fighting their corner for them, and he was the one who was getting a battering from their mother. The next morning, Kíli had woken to find Thorin and Fíli were already at the forge, but his shift wasn't until the afternoon. He had come downstairs and found Dís hunched over the sink, her shoulders shaking.

"Mama! What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"Because I've decided to let you go."

"Kíli?"

Kíli suddenly realised Dís had moved away from Thorin's tomb and was now standing in front of him. Her cheeks were wiped clean of tears, but her eyes were still shining.

"You were far away," she said, with a small smile.

"So were you," Kíli replied, studying her carefully. When it was clear his mother was going to give nothing else away, he added: "Fíli disappeared down here a few weeks ago."

Dís glanced back at Thorin's tomb. "I'm sorry I had to sneak away."

"Do you want me to go?" Kíli asked quietly.

"No," Dís answered, after a pause. "No… It's far too quiet in here for my liking."

Despite Dís' complaint of the quiet, Kíli could find nothing to say to fill the silence that fell over them. His heart ached for his mother and he was desperate to hold her again, but he knew she wouldn't want him to fuss over her.

"You're going to get yourself killed, Thorin," Dís said suddenly. "That's the last thing I said to your uncle before our farewell. Such angry words before our parting…"

Kíli fought back the twinge in his stomach. He swallowed to relieve the tightness in his throat. "He never held it against you, Mama," he said, trying to keep his voice even. He thought back to the conversation he had heard between Fíli and Estel in this very spot. "Before… Before he died, he spoke to Fíli… He wanted him to tell you how much he loved you."

Tears prickled at the corners of Kíli's eyes as he looked at Dís and saw her face crumple. She reached up a hand to her brow, screwing up her eyes, and when she opened them, the blue was dark and clouded. Unable to stop himself any longer, Kíli moved forward and wrapped his arms around his mother, pulling her into his chest the way she had done only hours before.

She clutched at his coat and stayed silent for a long time, but finally she turned her head to the side and murmured: "You're a good couple of inches taller… Or maybe I'm just shrinking."

Kíli felt the smile twitch on his lips as he rested his cheek on his mother's hair. Then he began to chuckle and he heard Dís' low laugh too. And there, in the dark of the Mountain, they held each other tighter and laughed through their tears, their voices reverberating around the stone walls of the vault, as if Thorin were laughing with them.

A/N: And that's our introduction to Dís! But don't worry, this is just the tip of the Dís iceberg (Dísberg?) and the next chapter will be more Fíli-centric. We'll also get to see Dís kick the crap out of some councillors. Until then, please do let me know what you thought of this chapter!