A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so, so much for your amazing response to Chapter Sixteen – I just have such awesome and wonderfully loyal readers, and I seriously do appreciate you all taking the time out of your days to read this fic. Alas, the end is drawing near, but I'll save all my emotional rambling for the final chapter. Now, it's about time we heard more about Fíli and his Majestag. Oh, and trigger warning: copious amounts of shameless dwarfling fluff. Your ovaries have been warned…

"Fíli?"

Fíli only just heard his name being called over the sound of his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and the voice sounded distant; detached almost. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the spot where the stag had stood only moments before and turned to find Kíli staring at him, his bow lowered. His brother's brown gaze was filled with concern, bordering on fearful… but something told Fíli that it wasn't the appearance of the strange beast that was worrying him.

"Fíli," Kíli tried again, his voice soft, but careful. "Are you all right?"

Fíli knitted his brows together at the unexpected question, and his eyes returned to the empty underbrush in front of him. "It just… vanished," he murmured.

"What did?"

Fíli rounded on his brother again, fixing him with an incredulous expression. "What?" he snapped. "That enormous stag!"

Kíli had gone unnervingly pale now. "Stag?" he asked quietly, his eyes flitting to Estel.

Fíli saw the others all exchanging uneasy expressions and felt his temper rising. "It was standing right there!" He gestured to the spot on the edge of the clearing with his crutch, grinding his teeth with frustration. "You must have seen it."

"We didn't see anything, Fíli," Kíli said, and his tone made Fíli bristle. It was as if he were talking to a child.

"But you followed it with your bow!" Fíli insisted, panic making his voice rise.

"I saw the look on your face," Kíli explained. "I was following your eyes."

Fíli turned again to stare at the empty space between the trees. Was he going mad? An ache had begun to spread from his temples as his heart continued its manic thumping… He knew what he had seen, or at least he thought he did. The stag had been too huge to be missed by anyone, and he could still picture it exactly; the glossy black coat streaked with shimmering lines of silver, and the enormous antlers branching out from the head it had held proudly aloft as it walked. Fíli could still see the way the muscles of its flanks had moved beneath the fur as it came to a stop before him… and he could have sworn its eyes were blue. A very familiar blue.

"What were you two thinking going galloping off like that?" Dwalin's growl dragged Fíli from his trance. He turned to see Dwalin advancing on Estel and Legolas, his eyes flashing black. "I knew it wouldn't be good for the lad… Now look what –"

"I'm not ill, Dwalin!" Fíli said tersely, his voice full of an authority he knew was being undercut by the present situation. But still Dwalin backed down, lowering his head by way of apology. "I… I just need to sit down," Fíli added; despite his declaration, he was starting to feel light-headed as he fought against the panic rising in his chest.

Dwalin immediately grabbed hold of the fallen tree trunk lying to his left. He wiped the snow from it and dragged it towards Fíli with disturbing strength. Fíli slowly lowered himself down onto the trunk. Dropping his crutches, his hands went to his face and he rubbed distractedly at his eyes. He felt the others closing in around him, and someone sat down at his side. Inhaling deeply, Fíli looked up to find that it was Estel, not Kíli, sitting beside him, and his brother was standing warily to his left, his hand poised to reach for his shoulder.

"Why don't the archers continue the hunt?" Estel suggested, breaking the tense silence that had descended over the clearing. "We will stay here whilst Fíli gets his bearings."

"No," came Kíli's automatic response. He moved closer to Fíli.

"Please, Kíli, I'll be all right," Fíli said, peering up at his brother with a shaky smile. "I don't want to ruin your hunting trip… And Bofur will be upset if we come back empty-handed."

Kíli didn't seem convinced and he continued to stare at Fíli, his eyes round with worry. But then a silent exchange passed between Estel and Elladan, and the dark-haired elf put a gentle hand on Kíli's shoulder, steering him away. Kíli reluctantly complied, and after one last look over his shoulder at Fíli, he followed his fellow archers and disappeared from the clearing.

"Here, have some water, lad."

Fíli turned to Dwalin who was holding his water pouch out for him. He took it gratefully, but paused before he lifted it to his lips. "This is just water, isn't it?" He wouldn't have put it past Óin to provide Dwalin with water laced with poppy milk or some other drug.

"Aye," Dwalin chuckled softly. "Just water."

"I wish it was ale," Fíli muttered, and then took a few long gulps.

Another strained silence fell over the clearing, and the air was beginning to feel very close, when Estel asked: "Will you tell us what you saw?"

Fíli lowered the water pouch and looked from Estel to Dwalin, wondering if they were just going to humour him… but the image of the stag was now burned into his mind, and he knew he wasn't ever going to forget it.

"I saw its shadow walking around the clearing before it came from the trees," Fíli whispered, his brow furrowed. "I heard the twigs breaking beneath its feet and the leaves rustling as it moved… You really didn't hear anything?"

He looked up, a faint flicker of hope in his eyes, but Dwalin slowly shook his head. His gaze swung back to Estel, who was studying him with his chin resting on his hand.

"It does not mean there was nothing there," Estel said carefully.

Confused, but somehow encouraged by Estel's statement, Fíli continued: "It was a stag… Largest I've ever seen… And it was black as night, with flecks of grey in its fur… I've never known deer with those colourings before." The stag materialised once again in Fíli's mind, and he could still picture every detail. "It had huge antlers and I'm sure its eyes were blue… dark blue… It looked at me. Really looked at me… as if it knew who I was… And then it lowered its head… like it was bowing… But then it vanished."

Fíli's mind was racing as he relived the whole episode – which could have only lasted mere moments – and he felt curiously giddy as he remembered it all. But he also felt a blush creeping to his cheeks as he looked to Estel for his reaction, aware that these sounded like the ramblings of a madman. Estel's grey eyes were as impenetrable as his expression, and Fíli's stomach twisted as he waited for him to speak.

"Such visions are not uncommon amongst the Elven," Estel said finally. "Lord Elrond has experienced similar things." He paused, and something Fíli couldn't place flickered in his gaze. "Arwen too."

"So… you believe me?" Fíli ventured, fighting to keep his tone wary as his heart leapt. "And I'm not going mad?"

"Yes," Estel said, with a small smile. "And I do not think so."

Fíli's gaze returned to the forest floor, and before he could stop himself, the words were bursting from his lips: "It was Thorin… I know it was." In his heart he had known it since the stag first set foot in the clearing. He couldn't explain how he knew… he just did.

Dwalin tensed at his side, but said nothing. Estel, however, was still smiling. "I thought as much," he said quietly.

So many questions filled Fíli's mind, manically jostling for space, making his insides flutter with both excitement and a little trepidation. "What… What does it mean?" Fíli asked, struggling to channel the chaos in his head into only one question.

"Lord Elrond says it is foolish to go searching for explanations regarding visions," Estel answered softly. "They simply are, and nothing more… That being said, I do believe this was your uncle finding a way to reach you."

This was all Fíli needed to hear. His vision became blurred as his eyes returned to the edge of the clearing where the stag had stood before him… and he thought of the carvings he had found etched into Thorin's bedframe, and the presence in Thrór's bedchamber the night he had taken up the oak shield. Ever since Thorin's death, a connection had remained, and with the image of the stag's graceful bow fixed in his mind, Fíli finally understood the meanings of these messages. He realised then that Thorin had never really left him… and he never would.

One by one, the horses slowed as they reached the edge of the river. It had been frozen into warped plates of ice for the darkest weeks of winter, but now, with the slightest hint of spring in the air, the river had thawed and begun its journey over the ancient stones once again. Estel and Fíli made the crossing first, followed by Elrohir and Dwalin. Dwalin had been very quiet since the revelations in the clearing, and Fíli decided it was best to leave him to his thoughts. Elladan and Kíli came next, Kíli ensuring that the trip's bounty was still securely strapped to their saddle. The archers had come upon two rather fat rabbits that seemed to believe hibernation was a waste of time – time that could be spent eating. Kíli claimed the life of one, Legolas of the other. Bofur and Bombur were going to be thrilled. Fíli had decided that discussion of the stag with Kíli was best done in private, and so he had made no further mention of it to his brother. Fíli's unwavering smile put Kíli at ease and he had been content to talk only of the finer points of rabbit-stalking, though Fíli suspected he would be cornered as soon as they returned to their room.

With Legolas safely across, the party set off towards the Front Gate… where they could see many dwarfling-sized figures moving energetically across the snow. As they drew closer, laughter and excited shouts filled their ears, and Fíli grinned at the sight of two dozen dwarflings, all dressed in their thick winter furs, engaged in snowball fights and games of tig. Some were building snow-fortresses and others were moulding the snow into figures that resembled the two enormous statues which stood guard either side of the Gate.

The horses came to a stop and all riders dismounted; Estel warned Fíli this time before their horse dropped to its knees. Fíli steadied himself on his feet, planting his crutches firmly into the snow, and his eyes moved to the dwarrowdams who were keeping a close eye on their children from the edge of their games. They stood across from the returned hunting party, with snow-fortresses and figures between them, and waited for Fíli to straighten up before lowering their heads in silent, reverential acknowledgement. The dwarflings seemed to notice the new arrivals one by one, until their joyful cries alerted all their friends and the clumsy but heartfelt bowing began. Fíli was glad that most of the children were satisfied with their bows on the first try and almost immediately returned to their various games and activities. He knew he had endured many episodes of bowing over the past few weeks, but he wasn't sure he would ever get used to it; it all seemed very time-consuming and unnecessary.

"Kee!"

There was a flash of red and suddenly Kíli was lifting a tiny dwarfling into his arms and swinging her round. Elís was wearing a white fur coat that seemed a stark contrast to her curls of fiery hair; the sleeves were so thick that her arms stuck out at her sides. She struggled to wrap her small fist in Kíli's hair.

"And how are you this afternoon, little lady?" Kíli beamed, and Fíli had never seen his brother's eyes so bright.

Fíli sought out Elís' mother, Neri, amongst the group of dwarrowdams. She was standing a little apart from the group, intently watching her daughter, looking almost poised to follow her, but then deciding against it. Fíli felt an ache beginning to spread from his chest, and he looked away. He knew Kíli had been sneaking off to the nursery every chance he got, but whenever his brother questioned him he became moody and defensive, so Fíli let it alone. Part of him was just glad Kíli had found a distraction from everything.

He turned back to Kíli, only to find his brother grinning at him with an expression of undeniable mischief. "Elin is looking at you," he said slyly.

"Who?" Fíli asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Kíli rolled his eyes. "Tobi's aunt… She's been staring at you since you dismounted."

Fíli felt his stomach flip, and he wasn't really sure why. Elin. It was strange to realise that before that moment he hadn't even known her name. His gaze returned to the women, and without really meaning to, he found himself locking eyes with the young, dark-haired dwarrowdam who was indeed staring at him. Fíli froze and so did Elin. Even from a distance, he could see the deep blush creeping into her cheeks. Unsure of what to do, but panicking at Elin's obvious embarrassment, Fíli raised a hand in greeting and managed a smile. It took him all of two seconds to realise this wasn't the best move. Now all the dwarrowdams were staring and whispering to each other, their eyes jumping from him to Elin. Fíli realised then that waving wasn't very kingly, and he had in fact made the situation, and Elin's embarrassment, ten times worse.

Suitably mortified, Fíli quickly looked way, and then wished his eyes hadn't moved to Kíli, who seemed unable to contain his glee. He shifted Elís on his hip, and the red-haired dwarfling peered up at him. On seeing his grin, she immediately tried to mimic it, and turned to Fíli with a bright, toothy smile.

Fíli fixed his brother with a black stare. "If you utter one word, I will have you executed," he growled, which only made Kíli's grin widen.

Storming off wasn't the easiest thing to do on crutches, but Fíli put as much effort as possible into moving past Kíli and joining Estel and the twins by Elrohir's horse. The children had grown used to seeing the elves in the Mountain and so it wasn't a surprise that a few had approached the twins, asking if they could pet their horses. Elrohir's horse was a particularly placid mare, and it dutifully lowered its head so the dwarflings could stroke its muzzle and didn't flinch when they ruffled its dark grey mane. Fíli glanced over at the dwarrowdams, purposefully avoiding looking at Elin, and saw that they were watching the twins with hawkish eyes. He knew that if Elladan or Elrohir put one foot wrong, the mothers would spring into action, and Aulë help Elrond's sons if they did.

Fíli had seen Legolas standing warily at the edge of their party, but when his eyes moved to him again he found that the prince was no longer alone. A dwarfling with ringlets of black hair was staring up at him with enormous blue eyes, and Fíli sensed there was some impishness in her sweet smile. Transfixed by this enchanting child, Legolas smiled softly and took a step forward, holding out his hands to her. The dwarfling edged back, but continued to smile up at the blonde elf. Fíli realised he was right to question her innocence when he saw a group of children, led by Mikil, sneaking up behind Legolas, and they were armed with snowballs.

Now that their cleverly concocted distraction had worked, the dwarflings unleashed their fury and pelted the unsuspecting elf with snowballs. A few missed, and most hit Legolas' legs, but Mikil's snowball crashed into the back of the elf's head. Whirling round with strangled cries of Sindarin, Legolas heard only the dwarflings' riotous laughter as they bolted back to the safety of their snow fort, and when he turned the black-haired child had also vanished. Fíli wondered if he should send an envoy to Mirkwood to inform Thranduil that his son had just been outwitted by a band of dwarflings no higher than his knees.

Feeling that his integrity had been severely compromised, Legolas dropped down and began to fashion the snow into a perfect sphere in his hands.

"Legolas," Estel said in warning. He had been chuckling along with Fíli and the twins when Legolas was attacked, but he knew as well as Fíli did that the elf had impeccable aim, and as soon as an Elvish snowball hit a dwarfling, there would be all-out warfare.

"M-Mister King?"

Fíli jumped when he heard the familiar voice (and his preferred title). Hàri was standing right by his feet, staring up at him with a nervous smile, and he was joined by three equally shy dwarflings. He seemed to have been pushed to the front of the group as its elected speaker.

"Hello Hàri," Fíli smiled. He wished he could crouch in front of him, as Hàri and his companions seemed so small when he was peering down at them, but he wasn't sure his leg would allow it.

The dwarfling standing to Hàri's left nudged his shoulder. "We… We maked something for you," Hàri explained. He looked to the children behind him and they huddled together for a few moments, and when Hàri turned back to Fíli he was holding a carefully constructed ring of flowers. "We maked a crown… Because you don't have one yet."

Fíli couldn't help but grin as he inspected the gift, and he felt the corners of his eyes begin to prickle. The crown was made of snowdrops; their thin green stems knotted together and their soft white heads bunched a little unevenly around the ring. To Fíli it was perfect, and his mind was filled with thoughts of his and Kíli's childhood excitement whenever they found these flowers pushing through the snow; their appearance was always a sure sign that spring was on its way.

"It's beautiful. Thank you," Fíli said, his eyes moving over the children who were all smiling bashfully. When Hàri held the crown up to him, Fíli quickly glanced around and saw that only Dwalin was left unoccupied. "Hàri, will you let Mister Dwalin pick you up so you can put it on my head?"

Dwalin's eyes became alert at the sound of his name. He moved to Fíli's side with a look of alarm matched by Hàri's own fearful expression. Knowing it would be an act of treason to refuse the King, Hàri nodded, though he continued to stare up at Dwalin in mild terror.

"Uh, all right," Dwalin grunted.

The dwarflings gave Dwalin a wide berth as he approached and looked at Hàri as if this might be the last time they ever saw him. Dwalin hitched his large, tattooed hands under Hàri's arms and jerked him up. He held him at arm's length, as if he were a bundle of mining explosives, and moved in front of Fíli. The little dwarfling furrowed his brow in concentration and then very carefully placed the crown upon Fíli's head.

Fíli's eyes jumped from the fire to the door when three loud raps sounded in the room. "Come in," he called, lowering his pipe.

The door slowly creaked open and Gandalf appeared, ducking under the doorframe as he entered. The wizard shut the door behind him and hesitated slightly before coming to join Fíli by the fire, slowly lowering himself into the sturdy wooden chair opposite Fíli's.

"I was wondering when I was going to be receiving a royal summons," Gandalf said, with a wry smile, his blue eyes full of their familiar twinkle. He reached into the deep pockets of his grey robes and produced his pipe and a box of matches.

Fíli watched the wizard light his pipe, unsure of how to reply. The last time he and Gandalf had spoken at any length had been in Rivendell… and memories of those conversations had proven particularly painful. He knew he had been avoiding Gandalf for some time, though he hadn't expected Gandalf to avoid him in return. In the early days of the tent encampment, Fíli, wounded and almost driven mad by grief, had told Kíli he didn't want Gandalf anywhere near him, and the wizard had heeded these words. Although many memories of the first days after the battle were hazy and incomplete, Fíli was sure his reasoning for spurning the wizard was related to his fear of the crown. He thought Gandalf would confront him with too many hard truths and try to talk him round. In the end it had been Estel who had done that.

Gandalf was staring into the fire, patiently puffing on his pipe, but Fíli knew he hadn't called the wizard to his room only for them to sit in silence. "How is Bard faring?" he asked quietly. He knew that Gandalf had been spending most of his time in Dale since Thranduil's departure.

"He is being kept busy, of course," Gandalf smiled. "They are doing their best to clear out the ruins, much as you are doing with Erebor… But the Master is not being especially helpful."

Fíli knew all about the continuing feud between Bard and the scheming Master of Lake-town. It only increased his disdain for politicians. Although, he had to admit that Dàin's councillors appeared to be behaving themselves as of late. They were clearly trying to avoid him and the company, but whenever their paths did cross their faces always blanched and their bows were ridiculously low and elaborate. It wasn't lost on Fíli that this change in their behaviour had come after the hunting trip… after the councillors had been left alone in the Mountain with his mother. He had decided not to say anything about it.

Gandalf choked a little on his pipe, but his eyes remained fixed on the quivering orange flames of the fire. Fíli was dragged from his thoughts and he felt his stomach clench. The question that had weighed heavily on his mind since the battle, since Thorin's death, presented itself again, and this time Fíli couldn't dismiss it. He knew it was the reason he had sent for the wizard.

"Did you know?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and he could feel his fingers trembling around his pipe.

Gandalf's blue eyes slowly moved from the fire and came to rest on Fíli, but he stayed silent and waited for the young dwarf to elaborate.

"When you tried to give me the key and the map in Rivendell," Fíli continued, trying to push the waver out of his voice. "When you spoke to me of my birth right… Did you know my uncle was going to die?"

Gandalf studied Fíli for a long time, his expression unreadable, before letting out a low, soft sigh. "No, I did not," he answered slowly. "But I was afraid. Thorin's sheer will and determination unsettled me, and if he were to die, I did not want the whole quest to have been in vain." A small smile appeared on his lips. "But when I left Rivendell, I was no longer afraid. Some small things gave me courage."

Fíli felt the corner of his mouth twitch, and he lowered his head in understanding. He thought of everything Gandalf had said to him in Rivendell, everything he had done to help, and even though Fíli had fought against it and cursed the wizard, he now found himself beyond grateful. "Thank you," he murmured.

"There is no need to thank me, my dear Fíli," Gandalf said gently, leaning forward in his chair. "You did all the hard work yourself… All I did was give you a little nudge in the right direction."

Fíli mouthed his thanks when Kíli returned to his side with a tankard of ale. He drank deeply as his brother settled next to him, and they soaked in the contented after-supper atmosphere of the company's fire. The Entrance Hall camp was quiet as the evening drew on and the meal-time rush subsided… but then the hush was suddenly shattered by a shriek coming from the east archway. Fíli and Kíli twisted around simultaneously to see three dwarrowdams arriving in the Hall, two supporting the third between them, and judging from her incredibly swollen belly, Fíli guessed that she was very pregnant. The auburn-haired dwarrowdam let out another high-pitched wail and her companions called for help.

"Neda!"

There was a thundering of footsteps and a young dwarf rushed passed the company's fire to join the dwarrowdams, his face almost white. He put a hand to Neda's flushed cheek and then looked around in a panic.

"Óin."

Fíli jumped when he heard his mother's voice; Dís was on her feet and she moved, calmly and purposefully, to Neda and her husband, with Óin quickly following.

"Sh-She isn't due for another two weeks!" the dwarf cried, when Dís came to his side.

"Well the baby obviously doesn't agree," Dís replied evenly. "We'll take her to my room. She won't want the whole camp hearing what's to come."

The dwarf looked stricken at the idea. "But my lady –"

"Kestri!" Neda ground out, and her expression was livid. It clearly communicated that seen as Kestri was not about to give birth, he didn't have a say in where it would take place, or the right to refuse his wife a bed.

Kestri recoiled under Neda's hard green eyes, and hastily nodded. He relieved the dwarrowdam at her left side and slipped her arm around his shoulders.

"Bofur, we're going to need hot water and towels," Dís said, moving back to the company's fire as Óin disappeared into his tent.

"Of course, my lady!" Bofur replied, jumping to his feet. He signed something to Bifur and quickly began to fill the newly-scrubbed cooking pot with clean water.

Óin reappeared with his medicine chest and followed the group disappearing through the west archway, towards the upper corridor and Dís' room. Fíli and Kíli stared after them, their mouths slightly agape, as a shocked silence descended over the Entrance Hall. Fíli couldn't help but feel admiration for his mother and the way she took control of the situation. In Ered Luin she was a widely-respected matriarchal figure, and this often required her to play the role of healer and midwife as well as leader and mother.

It was a long time before anyone spoke, but finally Balin murmured: "I didn't realise any of the dwarrowdams were with child. I don't think I've ever seen her before."

"And she's a little hard to miss," Kíli grinned, his pipe between his lips.

Fíli gave his brother a shove. "You're lucky she didn't hear you say that."

Kíli smirked and silence returned. Fíli was draining his tankard of ale when Kíli nudged his arm. Looking at his brother questioningly, Fíli then followed his gaze and saw Kestri standing by the west archway, looking as pale and bewildered as was expected from a father-to-be. He peered around the Entrance Hall, aware that everyone was staring, but didn't seem to know quite what to do with himself.

"Kestri, will you come and sit with us?" Fíli asked, raising his voice so Kestri could hear, but trying not to sound too forceful.

Kestri almost jumped out of his skin at being addressed, but he edged closer to the company's fire and gave an awkward bow. "I… I don't want to disturb, your majesty," he said quietly, fidgeting with his coat.

"We're happy to have you, please sit," Fíli smiled, gesturing to a free bench beside Balin.

Kestri bowed again and, after some hesitation, took a seat by the fire. Fíli studied their company's latest addition and realised that he could only be a few years older than himself. His dark brown beard was closely cut and finished in a short braid at the tip of his chin. He had no beads in his hair or piercings to speak of, and from his thick accent, not dissimilar to Bofur's, Fíli guessed Kestri was not of a high-born family… which seemed to explain his obvious horror at finding himself sat opposite Fíli with his wife lying in Dís' chambers.

"Get the lad some ale," Dwalin said gruffly. He didn't know much about children and fatherhood, but he did know when a dwarf needed a tankard in his hand.

"How is she?" Fíli asked kindly, as Kestri accepted ale from Bombur.

"Scared… your majesty," Kestri replied, after a pause. "It's her first and we didn't really know what…" He seemed to lose his train of thought and then added, almost absentmindedly: "She, er, did threaten to kill me a couple of times."

"Oh, I remember the death threats," Glóin said, with a fond chuckle.

Fíli also remembered the birth of Glóin's son, Gimli, as if it were yesterday. He had been twenty at the time and left in charge of Kíli as their mother was helping in the birthing room. The labour had been a long and difficult one, and when he and Kíli had been waiting outside the door, hoping for a glimpse of their new cousin, all they had heard for several hours had been increasingly graphic descriptions of how Glóin's wife would bring about her husband's demise if she ever lived through this.

"I… I told her not to come," Kestri said, staring rather forlornly down at the tankard between his knees. "I told her she shouldn't be leaving the Hills with her time so close… I got my cousin to write her and let her know I'd make sure I was back in time… But she came anyway."

"The lass will've been worried about you," Bofur said sympathetically, taking the cooking pot of water off the boil.

"Aye," Balin agreed, putting a gentle hand on Kestri's shoulder. "But she's got youth on her side and is in the best possible hands, so don't you worry yourself."

Kestri nodded slowly and managed a nervous smile. Bofur disappeared through the west archway with the steaming water and Bifur followed close behind with as many towels as he could carry. Fíli's eyes flitted to the other end of the company's fire and saw that Dori, Nori, and Ori were purposefully busying themselves. Ori's head was buried in his sketchbook and his quill moved frantically across the page. Fíli felt his heart contract a little in his chest as he watched the brothers. Everyone knew that Ori's mother had died giving birth to him; she was older than the typical child-bearing age, and had been warned that a third child might kill her, but she was determined to bring Ori into the world. The scribe had been unexpectedly small and the healers told his father, already consumed with grief, that he wouldn't survive the night. But Dori wouldn't accept that. With his father refusing to leave his mother's bedside, Dori had sat up with his new brother, keeping him warm, and coaxing milk into him with a tiny bottle. Ori made it through until morning, and after a week or so in Dori's care, he reached a healthy weight. Fíli supposed this was why Dori was so protective of his youngest brother, and when their father died only a couple of years after their mother, Dori became the only parent Ori had ever known.

The night wore on and one by one members of the company disappeared into their tents, only to return again a couple of hours later, asking if there was any news. Fíli and Kíli stayed up with Kestri, lending him their pipes, and asking him about his family and life in the Iron Hills. Around midnight, the Rivendell party made an appearance. They had retired to their rooms on the guard corridor after supper, but having finally been made aware of the excitement, all save Arwen – who had gone straight to Dís' room – joined those left by the fireside. The arrival of the elves did little for Kestri's nerves, and Fíli was sure he had never actually seen an elf before the battle, but he showed them the same awkward but well-meaning politeness he had shown the company.

Kíli was beginning to nod off against Fíli's shoulder when they finally heard footsteps in the west passageway. Fíli gave his brother a prod just as their mother appeared, and though she looked worn out and slightly flustered, she was beaming.

"Kestri?" she said gently.

Kestri spun around and hastily struggled to his feet. "My lady?"

"Someone is desperate to meet his da."

"His?" Kestri whispered.

"Aye, it's a boy," Dís smiled. "He's small, but he's healthy, and Neda is doing well."

A cheer rose from the company and then everyone was up, clapping Kestri on the back and shaking his hand. Kestri was grinning from ear to ear and seemed sufficiently overwhelmed by it all, but he eventually managed to break away from the fireside and follow Dís back to her room.

Fíli stared after him, unable to stop smiling, as the company returned to their seats with ecstatic, but comically loud whispers. Fíli was sure they had woken the whole camp when they cheered anyway.

"Just think," Kíli said, his voice barely passing for a whisper. "This is the first baby to be born in Erebor for over a hundred and fifty years!"

He turned to grin at Fíli. Fíli continued to smile as his mind turned to the cycles that were being played out before him. There had been death, but now there was also new life; he thought of the crown of snowdrops and the promise of spring, of the black stag and the child whose first home would never be taken from him.

"Fíli!"

Fíli was pulled from his thoughts when Kíli called his name and he saw that Kestri had appeared in the Hall, holding a tiny bundle of blankets. Despite the dwarves rushing to meet him, he made a beeline for Fíli, approaching him with his son clutched to his chest.

"Your majesty? Would… Would you mind giving him your royal blessing?" Kestri asked, with an anxious smile.

"Er, of course," Fíli replied, though a little taken back; he had absolutely no idea what a royal blessing entailed.

Kestri's smile widened and he carefully held his son out to Fíli. Fíli took the impossibly small babe in his arms, making sure he supported his head, and looked down at the soft, crinkled face framed by the thick blankets. The child didn't stir and continued to sleep soundly, and Fíli could feel his little chest rising and falling against him.

"What's his name?" Fíli asked, reluctantly tearing his eyes from the enchanting dwarfling to look up at Kestri.

Kestri shifted his feet. "Neda and I… We, er, were wondering if, with your family's permission, of course… we could name him 'Thorin', after your uncle?"

The smile that automatically jumped to Fíli's lips gave him his answer. With his heart beginning a jubilant thump inside his chest, he looked to Dís and Kíli standing at his side. Kíli gave him a lopsided grin and Dís lowered her head, her blue eyes shining.

"Of course," Fíli said, mirroring Kíli's grin. His eyes returned to the dwarfling in his arms and he reached out, slowly smoothing the single curl of black hair from his forehead. "Thorin," he whispered, and then – Fíli later wondered if he had imagined it – but he swore the babe's tiny pink lips twitched into the softest smile.

A/N: OK, apologies for this chapter of utter fluff, but I thought I owed it to you all after several months of angst! I'm off to Milan for a week, but I promise the FINAL chapter of 'Bring Them Home' will be posted when I return. Until then, please do let me know your thoughts on this chapter!