for one so small, you seem so strong. my arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm.

-You'll Be in my Heart, Celtic Woman

Kíli sprints through the halls of Erebor, breath ragged, until he reaches the great dining hall. He bursts through the door, earning a scowl from Thorin, who sits at the head of the table with Balin and the delegation from Dale. Now that the mountain has been reclaimed, the months since have been consumed by meetings and diplomacy as the dwarves reestablish their kingdom and summon their kin to join them.

"Thorin!" Kíli gasps. Seeing the men gathered around the table, he explains his presence in rapid Khuzdûl.

Thorin's eyes grow wide and he rises from the table. "My apologies, gentlemen," he grunts. "I've an urgent private matter that needs attending to. Balin, if you will escort our guests to their quarters, we will resume negotiations tomorrow."

The white-bearded dwarf nods and beckons the men to follow him from the hall, patting Kíli on the arm as he passes. "It'll be alright," he assures the prince quietly.

Thorin wastes no time in heading for the royal wing. "How long has she been laboring?"

"Seven hours."

"Seven hours?" Thorin breaks into a run, already shedding his furs and draping them over his arm as he goes. "And you come to me now?"

"Took me that long to convince her to let me fetch you," Kíli grumbles. "Óin was looking after her, but she won't let anyone but Fíli touch her."

"Where is the elf, then?"

"Tauriel? She left to escort the Mirkwood delegation this morning."

"I thought her whole reasoning for remaining was her fondness for the lady and wishing to ensure a healthy delivery."

"It wasn't the… only reason." As they near the chambers you and Fíli share, he snags Thorin's arm. "Uncle," he says quietly.

Thorin tries to shake him off, but Kíli holds on. "She's terrified." He lowers his voice and looks around as if afraid someone is listening. "She's been asking for her mother."

That gives Thorin pause. You'd been in Middle Earth for almost a year now, and for the most part put on a brave face. In more contemplative moments, he sometimes wonders how he would feel, to wake up in a world of childhood stories, with no way of returning to what he knew. The first few weeks had been difficult. It was hard for the Company to ignore your soft weeping at nighttime as you looked through pictures of the friends and family on your phone whom you'd never see again. But with the dwarves' help, and especially Fíli's companionship, you slowly adjusted, resolving to make a life in your new home. To hear you once again crying for the world you'd left is almost painful.

Thorin presses his lips together. "I suppose we will have to do," he mutters, and pushes open the door to your chambers.

You lie panting in the bed, one hand locked around Fíli's wrist in a death grip, the other clutching white-knuckled at the sheets.

Thorin discards his crown and the coat he'd already taken off, stripping down to a plain shirt beneath the royal trappings. He splashes his face with water from a basin in the corner of the room and pushes up his sleeves, scrubbing his arms and hands with the warm water. He comes to your bedside. "How are things progressing?" he asks quietly, reaching a hand to lift the blanket covering your lower half.

You snap your legs shut with a whine. Thorin is the last person you want seeing you in this state. Childbirth isn't something you are intimately familiar with, but like every woman, you'd heard the stories of blood, pee, and poop. A contraction wracks your body, and you wail in pain, squeezing Fíli so tightly he winces.

Thorin's face is kind. "Y/N, I was there for both Fíli and Kíli's births. I assure you, this is nothing I have not witnessed before."

Reluctantly, you allow him to remove the blanket and pry your thighs apart gently.

Kíli turns bright red and starts to make for the door, but Thorin gestures for him to come closer. "She still has a while yet." Peering between your legs for a moment longer, he nods in satisfaction. He grabs a journal and pen from your bag hanging on the bedpost and scribbles down a list, handing it to Kíli. "Fetch these from the kitchen, and more water."

Kíli bolts from the room, list in hand.

You turn your face toward Fíli. "I want my mom," you whimper, toes curling against another wave of pain. "I just want my mom, Fee, please, I want my mom."

He leans forward in his chair, brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. "I know," he murmurs. "But I'm here, and Uncle's here, and you'll be alright. You're doing splendidly, amrâlimê." Fíli kneels by your side. "Just think of how wonderful it'll be—the first new generation of dwarves under the mountain, the first Durin in seventy-seven years…"

His whispered encouragement continues throughout the evening while Thorin checks on your progress, firmly reminding you to breathe and push through the pain. Kíli paces by the door. The hours pass slowly, but the contractions start to get closer and closer together, until you find yourself writhing in the sheets and pushing as hard as you can.

Thorin reaches between your legs and tugs, retrieving a slippery, squirming little bundle.

You lift your head, panting. "Is it…?"

He clamps off the cord and gives the baby a sharp smack on the bottom. Its breath hitches, and a loud wail pierces your ears. It's somehow the sweetest sound you've ever heard. Thorin pauses, peering down at the wriggling thing in his hands. After a second, his face breaks out into a smile. "Congratulations," he whispers as he wipes the baby off and places it gently on your chest. "You have a healthy little dwarrowdam."

"It's a girl?" you gasp, staring down in astonishment, your body filling with a strange warmth. She whimpers and wiggles, eyes screwed shut and waving her tiny fists as if trying to fight the whole world.

Tears roll down Fíli's cheeks. He leans close and gazes at your daughter. Seeing his face next to hers, you marvel at the resemblance—the downturned nose, the prominent ears. Oh, but as she squints up at you, her eyes are most certainly yours. Her tiny hand curls around Fíli's finger and she begins to suck on it, quieting her for now. He chuckles and gently pulls it away, redirecting her head toward your breast, where she eagerly latches on. You squirm at the foreign sensation, covering the rest of your bare chest with the blanket.

Fíli kisses your head. "Well done, love," he whispers. "She's beautiful."

Kíli leaps up from his chair in the corner, bounding over to your bedside. "A girl?" He squints at her with a frown. "Where's her beard?"

Thorin smacks him on the arm. "Hush, Kíli," he scolds. "Your beard took months to come in. It will grow." His face softens as he watches the little half-dwarf suckle. "What shall you call her?"

You smile, stroking your daughter's head gently. Her hair is still wet, plastered to her scalp, but you think you can see bits of Fíli's honey-colored locks in the little wisps. You think of the forests you traveled through to reach Erebor, the evergreens that grew more common as you ventured north toward the Lonely Mountain. You want something to remind you of the beauty outside your new home. "Juniper," you murmur, looking up at Fíli for approval. "Can we call her Juniper?"

"We can call her anything you like," he breathes.

"I think I prefer 'Juniper' over 'anything you like,'" you quip back weakly.

Thorin pats your shoulder softly. "Rest up," he orders. "Spend some time with your little one before the others come clamoring to see her." He looks to Kíli as if to beckon him to follow, but seeing the young prince crouched by the bed, marveling at his tiny niece, he seems to think better of it. Before he exits the room, he turns back one last time to take in his little family. "Welcome to the world, princess," he whispers.

Fíli's hands fumble with the buttons on your collar as you cradle Juniper in your arms. The three-month-old's hands grasp at your clothes impatiently.

"Almost got it… there!" Fíli steps back and puts his hands on his hips triumphantly, examining you.

You can't remember the last time you've worn a dress, but the special occasion seemed to call for one. It's a dark blue velvet, trimmed with white fur. The skirt skims just above the floor when you walk, fitting almost as if it was made for you. You suppose whoever wore this dress before you must have been quite tall for a dwarf, and you silently thank its previous owner. Fíli and Kíli found the trunk of clothing while going through the horde of treasure gathered by Smaug, and deposited it in your chambers as a surprise.

"Ready?"

Thorin enters the hall behind you, dressed in fine furs and a freshly polished crown. He continues to delay the coronation as he has for months, insisting on the presence of his sister before making everything official—but you know he can't resist wearing the crown he worked so hard to reclaim. Kíli follows him, also dressed in more formal clothing than usual, though he tugs at the dark red cloth and white fur collar with a frown. Fíli's ensemble matches your own, a deep navy that sets off his pale eyes quite well.

You take a deep breath. "I think so."

Thorin pauses before you, eyes wandering up and down your dress. There's a strange, far away look in his eyes, but he shakes it off and brushes a golden curl behind Juniper's ear. "It's time."

The great stone doors swing open with a loud groan. You gulp as a host of dwarves approach, led by a tall dwarrowdam. Fíli's eyes light up and he runs forward with Kíli, throwing his arms around the woman. "Amad!" they cry.

"My boys!" She greets them with a wide smile, set above a dark, elegantly braided beard shot through with silver—not unlike Thorin's hair. She cups Kíli's face in her hands, pressing her forehead against his.

Thorin strides forward, beaming. You swear you can see tears sparkle in his eyes as he nears his sister. She pulls away from Kíli and starts to curtsy for her elder brother, but Thorin grabs her by her arm. "I'll have none of that from you, Dís," he scolds lightly. They look at each other for a long time before embracing tightly. "We did it," he says, voice thick.

Dís grins. But as she rests her chin on her brother's shoulder, her eyes finally land on you. She straightens and steps back from Thorin, looking at you curiously.

You duck your head shyly, clutching Juniper to your chest.

Fíli is at your side in an instant, placing his hand on your back and pushing you forward gently. "Amad," he says quietly. "I'd like you to meet Y/N. And Juniper…" His eyes glow with pride. "Our daughter."

Dís's blue eyes, so much like Fíli's, are wide as she looks you up and down. "Well," she says at last, "my dress looks nice on you."

Your cheeks burn. Remembering your manners, you do your best to curtsy while Juniper squeaks and wriggles in your arms.

Dís stares at you for an eternity, the silence so tense you feel an overwhelming urge to flee from the hall. Suddenly, you find yourself wrapped in a warm hug. "Hello, natha." [daughter]

You sigh in relief. "Hello, Amad."