Evangeline, Queen at Ered Luin and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, had barely knocked on her mother's faded yellow door when she heard the latch spring to life and the large circular structure shifted to admit her.

"Evie! Come in, come in, it's horrid weather outside.."

She took the other hobbit's cloak, hung it on a peg near the door and helped Evie get off her muddy boots without a moment's pause. The queen felt like a guest in her mother's house, now more than ever, and the sensation was strange. Always and never had this been her home. She felt at ease here, her childhood memories were here, and yet she had always known she would not inherit this place, that this quiet life would never be hers. All the same, it felt good to be here, and out of the wet.

Mary offered her tea, but Evie refused the kind gesture. Instead she asked to go by the fire, and so that was where the pair ended up.

"So, what brings the Queen of Ered Luin to visit a simple hobbit in the Shire?"

She joked, and her daughter clearly did not appreciate the harmless jest. The older hobbit shook her head, watching as her guest pushed unruly strands of blonde hair out of her face and bent over the fire, drying herself off. Mary would have offered her a towel but she knew the other female would refuse it. Besides, the fire was hot and she was almost dry.

"I missed you too."

Evie said softly, and Mary grinned out of the corner of her mouth. It was almost a bitter grin, but it was something.

"How is life inside the mountain?"

"A good deal colder yet a good deal dryer than here, I suppose."

She replied quickly, and Mary said nothing. Her daughter gazed into the trembling flames, watching them consume one another without hesitation or remorse, and there was something dark in that look of hers. Something Marigold Took didn't like at all.

"And things are well between you and Thorin?"

It felt strange to call him by his name after the great affair of their wedding all those years ago, after knowing him as Thorin Oakenshield, King at Ered Luin, and yet… Yet he was her daughter's husband, and she could not see him as anything else before that. Something twisted at the edge of Evie's lips, and Mary realized she must be getting closer to whatever it was her daughter wanted to talk about. She was here for a purpose, and it was the old healer's task to figure out what that reason could be. A queen did not make purely social calls, even to her mother.

There was a long pause, and Mary chose not to press it. Evangeline would speak when she was ready, for clearly there was something she wanted to say, or at least discuss. She knew the younger hobbit's moods, and also her stubbornness. Things would progress at the pace Evie had decided upon, and no faster.

"When did you know you were meant to be a mother?"

Ah, so that is it. Mary understood, and needed to hear no more. She sighed deeply; for identifying the problem and figuring out how to fix it were two entirely different trials.

"No one knows such a thing… How could we? Every female has it in her to be a mother, whether she knows it or not. And for those who do…" Marigold stopped, thinking for a moment. "Having a child is rather a lot like falling in love. Even though you want to, even though it is all you can think about, it is entirely and completely outside your control. Love will touch your life when it is meant to, and so will motherhood, if that is your lucky lot."

It was the best advice she could give, and to Mary it seemed very sound. As her daughter would hopefully have to learn for herself one day, it was also a mother's chore to know how to give good advice, and that was perhaps the hardest part of the job. How was a simple hobbit who had never left Eriador supposed to advise a daughter who had seen a great deal of Middle Earth, traveled widely and met many different people of all sorts, who had married a prince and become a queen? Marigold Took did not know of such things, of great adventures and strange meetings. But she did know a thing or two about life – about the simple things and the hard ones. And so she would do her duty as a mother and teach her daughter what she could about what she knew, even when that seemed just as difficult as anything.

"Someday you will understand the difference between those things which seem so very important when we are young, and what is truly meaningful in your life. You have been very blessed, my dear, and you must pour all of yourself and your love into those who care for you in return. What will be, will be and there is no fighting that future."

Marigold was trying to be comforting, but she knew her words were hollow in her daughter's ears. All the advice in the world could not still Evie's blistered heart. There was nothing a mother could say on such a subject to a daughter who lacked a child. She could not express the trials of having another living soul who relied on you for everything… The pain and the sheer wonder of raising a baby and watching it grow… She knew the yearning sensation Evie was feeling, for she had experienced it as well. Most married females were familiar with that nagging little itch – that deeply ingrained desire to produce an heir for their husband and a legacy for themselves. There was something in a female's physiology which simply was not complete until she fulfilled her duty and granted her husband a child. But that was all wrong, wasn't it? As much as part of her felt it in her bones, her heart fought the idea like a bird launching into flight. A female could not be defined by her anatomy, she could not be measured by her duty to her family or her husband. She was more than a mere vessel, and to think such a thing even for an instant was to betray her sex.

Evie knew it too, she was sure, and yet there was a silence between them which could not be breached. How could Mary explain to her daughter that she was so much more than this perceived obligation? How could she unburden the other hobbit when she knew equally that Evangeline was also a queen, and so that encumbrance fell more heavily on her shoulders than anyone else's in all Eriador? It was the affliction of all those who wore a crown, and yet for Evie it was entirely different… All Mary had to do was look her daughter in the eyes to see it clear as daylight. Everything slowly fell into place as she fully realized the depth of the younger hobbit's sentiments, and the truth they hinged upon.

No child of Evangeline Took could ever take the throne at Ered Luin, or any other dwarven stronghold. Mary had learned that from talking with some of the dwarves at Evie's wedding. Only a pureblood dwarf could rule, and Thorin had decided when he married the hobbit that their companionship and her serving as queen was worth more to him than an heir. His sister could provide young dwarves to succeed him, but his chosen wife could not. And that was why she wanted to have a child so badly. Knowing he or she would never rule, knowing their life would be complicated yet free of that great inheritance, there was some obstinate part of Evie that wanted more than anything to make her uncommon little family work. Maybe it was because she needed something to herself – some little measure of the world she could call her own. Maybe it was because it would solidify her role as queen despite the fact that her child could never rule. Maybe it was simply because she desired a child, and there was no more motive for it than that. It didn't matter the reason, and Mary doubted that even Evangeline herself knew why it was, but the older hobbit understood now more than before that this was not something the female was going to shake off easily. She could not be distracted or convinced out of it – the ache would be there until it was satisfied. But there was no guarantee that such a thing could ever happen, and so it became the mother's duty to offer what little comfort she could to her own child and to help her realize that if it wasn't for this, she would surely have something else equally as fretful to worry about.

"All that any of us can do is face our lives each day. And perhaps take a longer second breakfast to lighten our spirits." She tried the joke, and, as expected, it fell short. Mary pursed her lips and sighed softly.

The fire crackled in the hearth, spreading cheer throughout the small space of Mary's family room. It did not extend to her daughter, however, and a shadow hung over Evie's face, sinking into the wrinkles lining it and making her look a great deal older than she really was. Her expression barely changed at her mother's words, but the older healer caught the shift in her brow all the same.

"Do not balk at me now, my dear child. You must be satisfied with what happiness you are given in this life, and accept it. Otherwise you will always be wanting more and will never be content. Someday, I am sure of it, you will know the joy and heartbreak of motherhood… And until then you must be patient."

She remembered what it was to wait for Fellin to return to her from his latest adventure, and to wonder if he ever would. She recalled the gnawing worry that chewed on her heart whenever they were apart and the brief moments of relief she enjoyed when he was at her side again. It was a never ending cycle, and while she understood why he was the way he was and why he did the things he must, she could never get over herself and her own loneliness. Until one day she was granted an escape from that dreadful, ever repeating round – she was given a child. Evie had brightened her days and brought sunshine into her life. She had taught the hobbit so much about herself and what it was to love someone so completely and wholly… She had thought what she felt for Fellin was the most her heart could give, but all that was challenged when those tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers, or the first time those gorgeous grey eyes looked up at her with that absolute need… Mary knew what it was to need a baby, but she had not discovered it until after she had given birth to one. Evangeline's great fault was that she had figured it out far too soon – and there was no agony like wanting something you might never have. But they must believe she would, or the queen would have only misery to quell her heart's grand desire. What she needed was hope.

It seemed as though Mary had given her some, and that hearing such a promise from her mother was just what the younger hobbit needed. Evie's eyes shone with the starts of tears, and Mary's heart swelled at the sight.

"Oh my darling," she held her daughter close, soaking in the warmth of her, even when the chill of the rain was all around them. They were safe in the family's little hobbit hole, just as they had always been. And the Tooks could weather any storm, no matter how great. Or so it had always seemed.

"You're married now; far be it for an old hobbit like me or anyone to tell you to temper your expectations, but when we are young everything seems like such a great adventure. And then as we age we realize that the things we always thought would bring us great joy…" Mary let her go, looking down into the blonde's large grey eyes, those same eyes she had seen shine with self-accomplishment and fill with tears so many times during the girl's childhood, "Well, usually they do, but it is not always the sort of happiness we thought it would be. Life tends to be a bit more complicated than we ever expect. You are happy, I know you are, but that doesn't mean your life is easy. You are a queen.. Even if it still feels strange for me to say it, after all this time, and though I know it to be true.. My little Evie, my little adventurer tromping about in the forest with her wooden sword, is a queen… Did you think this path would be an easy one?"

"Of course not, of course I knew it would be so very difficult, and yet… The things I thought would be challenging are easy and the things I thought would be easy are not…"

"Marriage is never easy, even if we are blessed to be with the one we love. But there will always be something even harder…"

She couldn't finish the thought, and Evie immediately knew why. Her mother's pensive eyes were focused on the bouquet of dried flowers she had placed near the window. They were one of the last gifts Fellin had given her, right before he and Evie left for Moria. He had taken a walk to clear his head and remind himself why he was making what he saw as the right decision, and when he returned he held a fist full of the freshest, finest flowers in all Tookbank. Mary had scoffed at first, and then she had cried. Once they had left and she was all alone in what was suddenly a rather large hobbit hole for the first time in her life since the birth of her daughter, she had dried the flowers and arranged them exactly as they were now, right beside the window. She could look at them and be reminded of her husband's love for her even as she waited to see him walking down the road outside their home, returning to her. He never came back from that adventure. But the flowers were still there.

Evangeline grabbed her mother's wrinkled hand, holding it tight. Mary took in a breath, pulling away so she could sit down in a chair by the fire. Her daughter mirrored her motion, sitting in the opposite chair. The older hobbit looked at her for a moment, her heart feeling all at once very hollow and very full. It felt good, at least, to see someone else sitting in that chair, the one reserved for visitors (of whom she typically had so few of). Hobbits were by nature very social creatures, but as Mary aged she lost more and more of that distinctive trait. She enjoyed falling into the easy simplicity of Shire life, gossiping with her neighbors and picking out the best fish at the market for her dinner, but sometimes it felt easier just to be alone. Her self-imposed seclusion made Evie's visits all the more precious, though she hurt to watch her daughter struggle with the life she had chosen for herself.

"Just enjoy what little time you have with those you love," Mary suggested, reaching out to hold her daughter's hand again and squeezing it. "Because we never know just how much of it we have left."

The queen nodded, swallowing. Her mother was right, of course, as she always was… Yet what seemed like such a simple directive was not quite. It was all well and good to think that she and Thorin could just escape together for a little while and delight in each other, but in reality they rarely had a single moment to spare let alone a few put together. He was always traveling and tending to their ever expanding settlements, and she was taking care of things at the main fortress and responding to those of their people who wanted their voices to be heard. She knew her duty and was happy to fulfill it, yet at the end of the day, by the time they each sunk into bed beside one another (if they were lucky enough to have even that closeness), the king and queen were so exhausted that sleep took them at once, and there was little time to do any sort of reveling or delighting in one another, let alone to gather what rest they could before the dawn broke and the entire process began again. When Evie had a second to spare Thorin was usually away, and even if he made an effort to see her it was typically for a hurried dinner or for a quick kiss in the main entrance hall before he left her. Occasionally she could squeeze in an afternoon tea, but Thorin had never been a great lover of tea and he was usually accompanied by his advisers. All this seemed like a great collection of excuses, however, and as Evie looked over at her mother, her dear sweet mother, who had survived so much and suffered so much… She knew that she had to do something. Evangeline was blessed, indeed, and it was her own fault if she could not make the most of what she had been given. Perhaps her want of a child was just one more manifestation of her desire to be closer to Thorin, to have a part of him with her always… To give him what no one else could. But the hobbit could not welcome a baby into this world without first making sure her own affairs were in order and that their little family could sustain such a change. If she could not spare the time to see her own husband, certainly she could not properly tend to a child. Maybe it was Durin's will that they wait until they had become even more accustomed to ruling over Ered Luin and their settlements were stronger. Maybe, for now, she simply had to be mother to her people and then perhaps someday she could learn to be more than that. Or, at least, that was what she told herself.

"Each day is a gift, and we would not want to be ungrateful recipients."

"You are a gift," Evie replied, still holding her mother's hand. "And I would be lost without you."

Her elder smiled, and there was sweetness there the healer missed more than she ever realized before. It was rare that Mary smiled in such a way, and for that Evie was sorry.

"Indeed you would," her mother answered, chuckling. "I dare say you would still be lost in the Bindbale if I hadn't gone out after you to bring you home in time for supper."

Evie laughed, a true laugh, and Mary followed suit. The two females looked at one another, merriment sparkling in their eyes, and for a moment they forgot about the heavy burdens each of them bore and were simply all they could hope to be – two happy hobbits laughing together in front of a crackling fire.

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Author's Note: I hope you are all well! I really love Evie's mother and have been writing this scene for a long time, so I hope you enjoyed it! Many happy tidings to you and thank you for reading!