we'll bleed and fight for you, we'll make things right for you.

-Dear Theodosia, Leslie Odom Jr, Lin Manuel-Miranda

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird—oh Juniper, please don't cry!" you whisper, pressing your daughter's head to your shoulder to muffle her cries as you gently bounce her around. She doesn't listen, wailing into your nightgown. The flickering candlelight casts an eerie, two-headed shadow onto the stone wall of the nursery. Not for the first time, your gaze sweeps the room around you, desperately looking for anything that could calm the crying baby. Middle Earth, and certainly Erebor, isn't exactly rich in stuffed animals or baby rattles. Juniper is already wrapped in a soft blanket, her diaper is clean, and she refuses your breast. You're at a loss, softly singing any lullaby you can think of.

"Having trouble, lass?" Dís enters from the hall behind you, closing the door quietly behind her. Her raven and silver hair is disheveled, marriage braid half unraveled.

"I'm so sorry Dís, I didn't mean to wake anyone," you groan.

Dís smiles tiredly, holding out her arms. "You didn't. Let me see the little one," she beckons. "Come now, wee berry, come to sigin'amad." [grandmother]

You wearily shift Juniper into Dís's arms. She keeps crying. You collapse into the rocking chair by her crib. "I don't get it—she's clean, she's fed, she's warm, she's too old for colic… nothing helps!"

"And where's her adad on this fine, fine evening?"

You rub your face. "Out like a light. He's worked himself half to death preparing for the coronation tomorrow, and worried himself the other half to death."

Dís squints at Juniper's face, then tuts. "Ah, the poor lass. She's cutting her teeth. Here." She deposits Juniper back into your arms and crosses over to the window. Dís parts the curtains and swings the glass panes open, letting in a blast of freezing November air.

You clutch Juniper close with a shiver, but the older woman hardly seems fazed as she leans out into the wind. All the dwarves seem to be like that—immune to the increasingly frigid winds that swirl around the mountain as winter descends. She grunts, then retreats, slamming the window closed again. "There you are," she says, placing a cold, wet object in your hand. It's a small icicle wrapped in a handkerchief.

"'Tis an old trick. Rub it on her gums, it'll numb them right up." She taps Juniper's nose lightly. "If she's anything like her father, she'll be back to sleep before you know it."

Juniper writhes and wails even louder as you touch the cloth to her lips. You wince when you hear a low moan from the neighboring room.

"Not like that, you've got to let her suckle on it. I'll show you." Dís takes Juniper back, doubling up the cloth around the ice and sticking it in her mouth. She whimpers, but starts suckling quietly.

"You're a lifesaver, Dís," you sigh, rubbing your brow in exhaustion. "I have no clue what I'm doing."

"No one does, lass," Dís reassures you. "Besides, there's never been a child born of a dwarf and a daughter of Man. I'd be surprised if you knew what to do."

"I just… I thought there'd be some sort of instinct, you know? But every time she cries it's like I'm back at square one." You bury your face in your hands, fighting back tears of stress and exhaustion. "I wish my mom was here. I'm too young for this."

Your mother-in-law frowns. "Too young? What do you mean by that, my dear?"

You blink and raise your head. "Dís… did Fíli ever tell you how old I am?"

"I know better than to inquire of a woman's age. I figured you couldn't be any older than Kíli."

"Well, you're not wrong," you sigh. "Dís. I'm still in my early twenties."

Dís whips her head up in shock. "Mahal, you're just a child yourself! And Fíli took you into his bed?!"

Your face pulses with heat. "It was my bed. And my idea…" you mumble. An awkward silence ensues.

After an eternity, a warm hand squeezes your shoulder. "Let me tell you a secret."

You blink up at the dwarf.

"All those tales of parents knowing exactly what to do when their little ones are born? Poppycock," she asserts. "You and Fíli are a team, and you'll figure it out."

"Thank you, Dís," you whisper.

It's quiet again, but a comfortable quiet. Juniper's tiny lips smack against the cloth, and she makes contented little babbling noises as her mouth numbs.

"What was that song you were singing to your wee one earlier?" Dís asks finally.

"Mm? Oh, just an old lullaby my mom used to sing when I was a kid." You start to hum it softly. "Hush little baby, don't say a word, Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring." The memory makes you chuckle. "Sometimes she would stop, and remind me never to give jewelry to a baby, because they might choke on it."

"Sounds like a wise woman."

"She was. She is," you whisper thickly. "I miss home so much, Dís. I miss my mom, my dad, my friends… They have no idea what happened to me—they probably think I'm dead!" The tears you'd held back earlier return, flowing thick and fast as you sob quietly into your hands. "My dad didn't get to give me away, my mom wasn't there to hold my hand when I gave birth…"

Dís watches you silently. Then, she pulls a little stool next to the chair and sits, shifting Juniper into the crook of her arm and rubbing your back with her free hand. "I won't lie and tell you I understand exactly how you feel," she murmurs. "I don't think anyone can. But I know what it's like to have to leave your home and raise a child in a strange land. Nothing I can say will make it any easier, I know that. All I can tell you is that you are just as loved by us—by Fíli, by Kíli, by Thorin, and by me—as you were loved by your family. As you are loved by your family," she declares firmly.

You sniff and look up at Dís. Her face is tired and worn, like Thorin's, but wise and kind, too. "Thank you, Dís. Again. I don't what I'd do without you here to help."

Dís smiles and bounces her granddaughter around. "She looks just like Fíli did as a babe," she observes after a while, looking at you warmly. "She's got your eyes, though. I'm sure she'll be a beauty, just like her mother."

"I hope she's tall enough," you murmur. "I got made fun of for being so short."

Dís snorts. "You've got what, a good four, five inches over Fíli? Besides, us Durins are all of good stature. I'm sure you've nothing to fret about."

"I always did fall for the tall ones," you comment. It's strange, in a nice way, to be one of the taller ones around—you stand even with Thorin and Dís, who tower over many of the other dwarves. Fíli and Kíli also stand almost a head higher than most.

Juniper squirms sleepily. Dís stands and gently places her back in your arms. "There's your little sprout," she whispers.

Your heart melts as you look at your daughter's face. Honey-colored waves spill across her forehead. Her brow is pinched as she suckles on the melting ice, looking just like Fíli in deep thought. You trace a finger lightly down her face, following the pronounced downward curve of her nose. Her chin is a bit fuzzier than you'd expect, but to Kíli's dismay, she's yet to show any sign of growing a proper, little dwarf beard.

"What was Fíli like as a kid?" you ask softly, rocking your daughter as her eyelids droop.

"An absolute terror," Dís replies with a wry smile. She's looking at Juniper, but her eyes are far away. "I'm lucky Thorin was around to keep him from killing himself. Did he ever tell you of the time he got stuck in a tree after climbing up to escape a cross nanny goat?" Her laugh is deep and hearty.

You laugh in return. "He told me that was Kíli! Guess his brother had to learn it from somewhere." But thinking about it, Dís's words make you pause. "You said you were lucky Thorin was around. Was their dad…?" Dead? Absent? You trail off, not sure what you're asking. All you know is that Thorin raised them.

Dís shakes her head. "Fíli was just barely four. I didn't even know I was with child with Kíli when he rode off to battle with Thorin." Her eyes cloud. A pang of guilt hits you, making her remember it. "I was so excited to tell him when he returned—another little one for the family. But as soon as I saw Thorin's face, I knew. His body was slung over the back of Thorin's pony. I could scarcely recognize him."

Your throat tightens. "Fíli never told me."

"He'd have no reason to. He was so young, he hardly remembers him. Thorin was always the one there for him. Taught him to ride, to forge a blade, to wield it. No one was surprised when he chose him for his heir."

"But wouldn't you be next in line for the throne?"

Water begins to drip down the front of your daughter's nightgown. Dís bends over and and gently pries the wet cloth from Juniper's mouth, wiping her thumb along the sleeping child's lips. "Me? Ah, no. He offered, but I was never one for politics. Now that we're home again, I've got all I need. I'm so proud of my boys." Her eyes glow, and she lays a gentle hand on your shoulder, leaning down and tapping her forehead against yours. "And my girls."

The door between the nursery and your chambers creaks open softly. A shirtless Fíli stumbles in, his steps and eyes still heavy with sleep, hair sticking up at odd angles. "Everything alright?" he mumbles blearily. He rubs at his eyes and holds out his hands for Juniper.

You stand and deposit the child in her father's arms. She stirs and blinks, waving her hands at Fíli's mustache braids.

Fíli smiles, eyes softening as he rocks her. "She looks just like Y/N," he murmurs, ducking his head to nuzzle her. "Her lips, her eyes, her little freckles…"

Your heart swells so much you think it might burst as you watch your husband cradle his daughter. He sinks into the rocking chair, softly singing Misty Mountains. You sit down on the stool next to him, folding your nightgown underneath you as a cushion from the rough wood.

"I'm going to go back to bed," Dís says, observing the three of you wrapped up in each other in quiet contentment. "You three get some rest before the ceremony." She plants a kiss on each of your heads, but before she can leave, Fíli grabs her skirt.

"Amad," he says quietly. "Thank you."

She smiles and slips into the hallway, closing the door gently.

Juniper's fists, clutching the yellow curls on her father's chest, loosen as she begins to ease back into sleep.

"One day, we'll tell you all it took to get here," Fíli whispers hoarsely. "We'll tell you how your mother woke up here, how brave she was, how we fell in love, how we won the mountain back so you could have a proper home." His free arm curls around your shoulders, thick and warm.

You rest your head against him, taking up the song again. "To find our long forgotten gold," you sing softly, reaching over to brush aside Juniper's own golden hair. "I've got all the gold I want right here."