pick it up, pick it all up, and start again

-Medicine, Daughter

Frosty grass crunches under your feet as you dash out the gates, eyes scanning the battlefield frantically. Piles of bodies are strewn about, some orcs, some goblins, and far more elves and dwarves than you'd like.

There!

Across the way, you just barely spy three small figures making their way to the mountain. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hurry to meet up. Fíli and Dwalin support a limping Kíli between them. His right foot is twisted at an angle that makes your stomach turn, and his sleeve is soaked with blood. Bilbo stumbles not far behind.

"Fíli! Kíli!" You rush forward, wrapping your arms tightly around Fíli's waist.

Fíli raises his head. His eyes are dull. Tears slice through the blood and grime on his face. "Y/N…" he whispers.

"Are you alright? What happened?" you gasp.

"I couldn't save him."

Your heart drops. Over his shoulder, you glimpse little shapes swooping down from the Ravenhill. A large bird carrying a limp body. You let go of Fíli and step back, falling to your knees. "No."

Footsteps pound behind you. Bofur and Nori grab Kíli. Fíli collapses with you, burying his face in your hair.

"It's all my fault, Y/N," Fíli chokes. "It's all my fault."

You wake with a jolt, but Fíli's voice remains in your ears. You turn over in bed. His back is to you, but you can tell by the way his shoulders shake and his whimpers that he's having similar dreams.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, no…" he mumbles.

Your heart cracks, and you reach out to lay a hand on his clammy arm. "Fíli," you whisper, gently rolling him onto his back.

His face spasms. "I have to help him! Kee, I have to…to…" He jerks his head to the side, blinking. His eyes are clouded with confusion when he turns to you. "Y/N? Where—"

"You're home," you murmur, scooting closer to him. You've done this dance before, but it doesn't get any easier. You tuck his head beneath your chin and rub his bare back gently. It's coated in a thin layer of cold sweat. "Thorin's gone, sweetheart."

Fíli's breaths are shaky as his mind, still fuzzy with sleep, processes your words. His shoulders slump. "I couldn't save him, Y/N."

You swallow. "I know. It's okay, Fee. Let it out."

He lets out a soft sob, chest heaving and pressing his face into your neck. His arms grip you tightly, desperately, like a child clinging to his mother. You don't say anything, just stroking his hair. Outside your bedchambers he keeps up a strong façade, busying himself with his newfound duties. But it's moments like these, these nighttime rituals, that reveal how fragile that shield is. You'd be honored at how he lets his guard down around you, if it weren't so heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I shouldn't be… like this."

"Don't say that, Fíli. Don't you dare say that." You pull away slightly and fix him with a stern look.

"I'm supposed to be strong," he protests.

You reach up and stroke his cheek with your thumb, cupping his face in your hands. "What, are your mother and Kíli not strong while they grieve? Or Balin, or Dwalin, or any of the rest? Am I not strong for still grieving Thorin?"

"Of course you are! But—"

"But nothing." You press your lips to his, swallowing his words. "Show yourself the same kindness that you show others. You deserve that."

Fíli sighs, rolling onto his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

You curl into his side and lay your head on his chest, listening as his heartbeat gradually starts to come back down, and his breathing becomes more even. "You know it wasn't your fault, right? I need to know that you know that."

"That blow was meant for me." His voice is thick as the two of you finally broach the subject you've tiptoed around for a year.

"And he chose to take it. He chose to save you, and you avenged him. Azog is dead, Fíli, and you're alive."

His beard brushes against your hair when he shakes his head. "It didn't bring Thorin back. What's the point of victory then?"

A muffled cry sounds from the next room. "That's the point of victory right there," you say as you sit up. You start to get out of bed, but Fíli is closer, making it to the nursery door first.

He vanishes inside, reappearing with Juniper in his arms. "Hush, little sprout, I'm here," he whispers, sitting back on the bed. "Adad's got you. Papa's got you." Fili leans down and brushes his lips against her forehead with a sniff. "Thorin would have liked her."

Now that she's in her father's embrace, Juniper's cries quiet, and she snuggles into his warm chest with little cooing noises.

"He would have adored her." You join them, laying your head on his shoulder. "She'll be a princess tomorrow."

"She's always been a princess." Despite himself, a weak smile appears on Fíli's lips. "Are you ready to be queen?" he asks, resting his head against yours.

"Every girl wanted to be a princess when I was a kid—not sure how many wanted to actually be queen," you reply. "Queens have responsibilities. Princesses get to sing, and run through forests, and talk to animals."

"What strange princesses your world had." Fíli lifts his head and looks at you. "But are you ready?"

Queen. You will be queen of the dwarves. There's a joke about my height in there, somewhere, you think.

Since the battle, you've done your best to avoid the subject, busying yourself with preparing for Juniper's birth, and your wedding after that. But now, on the eve of the coronation, your nerves resurface. "Will they accept me as queen?" you whisper. "I'm not a dwarf—I'm not even from Middle Earth."

You've seen the looks you get wandering the halls or venturing out of the mountain, and you know Fíli has, too.

Fíli doesn't answer for a long time. Finally, he kisses your cheek. "If they don't, there will be hell to pay," he promises. "I'll send Kíli after them."

That draws a chuckle from you. Kíli delights in ruffling the feathers of the more judgmental dwarves, loudly referring to you as his sister in their presence, casually draping an arm around your shoulders whenever he sees someone giving you a strange look.

"It's so weird. In less than two years I've gone from working a low-paying job, living in a shi—crappy apartment," you censor yourself with a nervous glance at Juniper, "to being royalty, living in a palace, with a baby."

"And married to the most handsome dwarf in all of Middle Earth," Fíli adds teasingly.

"And married to the most handsome dwarf in Middle Earth."

A thin line of drool seeps from Juniper's mouth. Her eyes are closed once more, lips puckered around her thumb. Fíli stands slowly, careful not to jostle her too much as he takes her back to the nursery. He returns and closes the door softly.

You tuck yourselves back in and pull the covers up around the pair of you, hugging Fíli close. "I love you," you murmur.

"I love you too, ghivashel."

You make your way through the lower halls of Erebor, going deeper and deeper below the earth. The air is cool and moist, patches of moss growing on the stones that sat unmaintained for so long. At the end of a long hallway, you reach your destination: Two large, wooden doors in the stone, with gold insets. They're already ajar, and you poke your head inside.

Kíli sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a stone casket, head down. The hinges groan in protest as you ease the doors shut behind you. But Kíli does not acknowledge your presence.

"I thought I might find you here," you say, approaching him cautiously. "Fíli sent me to see where you were."

Still, he doesn't react. You sit next to him, ducking your head to get in his line of sight. "Kee?"

"It should be Thorin," he mutters. His eyes are dark, glaring at nothing. "And it's my fault."

You suppress a sigh and put an arm around his shoulder. "It's not your fault."

Kíli's lip curls. His right sleeve is pulled back, exposing a long scar running down his forearm. "If Fíli didn't need to help me, then he wouldn't have been open for that filth to swing at him," he spits. "If he hadn't been vulnerable, Thorin wouldn't have jumped in."

"And you'd be dead instead. Is that what Thorin would have wanted?"

He finally lifts his head, staring at the casket dully. "I don't think he'd want to be lying in a stone box while his nephew takes the throne at only eighty-three"

"He loved you, Kíli. Your death would've broken him. Yours or Fíli's."

Kíli presses the base of his palm to his forehead. "I don't understand," he says. "I thought I was well. I thought I had… recovered. But now it feels like it just happened yesterday."

The shadow of the casket looms over the dwarf. The torches are halfway spent already. Kíli makes it a ritual to come down to the tomb and light them each morning.

Gently, you pull Kíli's sleeve down to cover his scar. "It's because of the coronation. Fíli's been the same way."

Kíli scoffs. "I doubt it."

You hesitate, debating if you want to comfort Kíli, or spare Fíli's dignity. Fíli's dignity can take the blow, you decide. "Kee, Fíli woke up crying in the middle of the night. Like he's done many times since the battle." You squeeze Kíli's arm. "You're not alone."

He turns his head and looks at you for the first time. "Thank you," he whispers.

You smile, patting him on the shoulder and standing. "Ceremony's in a few hours. Go get ready. I'll see you then."

You stand on the steps before the throne, looking out over the gathered kingdom. Your kingdom. Juniper clings to your arm with her thumb shoved in her mouth. You're just glad she's relatively quiet for the most important moment in Fíli's life. The Company line the first row, along with Dís. Two chairs sit empty next to Gandalf, for the two missing party members. Your heart wrenches in your chest as your gaze lands on them. He'd be so proud.

Ever perceptive, Gandalf gives you a small nod and a sympathetic smile. You do your best to return it.

Fíli stands beside you, eyes closed and muttering in Khuzdûl under his breath. You reach over to squeeze his hand tightly, and they flutter open. He squeezes back.

Dáin approaches Kíli first with his crown. "Kíli, son of the Lady Dís, the Crown Prince Under the Mountain. Heir to the throne of Erebor."

Kíli blinks rapidly. He holds his head high at the crowd's applause, lip trembling slightly. You wish you were next to him—instead, you catch his eye and nod encouragingly. He finally smiles.

Dáin stops before you now. He lifts up a delicate, golden crown and clears his throat. "It has been centuries since this crown has been worn," he says. "But today, we crown the Lady Y/N, a daughter of Man, wed to Fíli, Queen Under the Mountain. And we welcome their daughter, the Princess Juniper, second in line to the throne."

Juniper reaches for the crown as you duck your head. Dáin evades her grasping hands with a smile, settling the crown on your brow. Of all the cheers, you hear the Company's the clearest—Bofur is on his feet, hands cupped around his mouth and hollering. You beam at them.

"And it is my greatest honor to present to you Fíli, son of the Lady Dís. The King Under the Mountain!"

Fíli takes in a deep breath as Dáin places the Raven Crown on his head. He's flat-out refused to wear it so far, insisting that it belongs to Thorin until he formally receives the mantle of kingship. Now that it rests on his head, he looks so much like Thorin. Perhaps not in his face, but in his bearing, standing tall with shoulders back and chin raised.

"Long live the king and queen!"

The room bursts with cheering. Your ascent to the thrones seems to happen in slow-motion, the noise of the audience dulled by the sound of your racing pulse. Fíli grips your hand so tightly you fear it will leave a bruise.

Before he can sit, you lean in close. "They'll want a speech," you whisper.

He clears his throat and lifts a hand for quiet. "Thank you all," Fíli says. "It is a privilege to stand before you today and receive your acceptance. I know that I am young to be taking the throne. By all rights, it should be Thorin Oakenshield. He fell during the Battle of the Five Armies on this day, a year ago, sacrificing his life for his kin." Fíli pauses as a somber murmur ripples through the room. "It was his dream to see his people return to their rightful home in Erebor. I will do my best to rule as he would have, with dignity and wisdom—and with my brother and my queen at my side."

With a smile, he steps back and lifts Juniper from your arms, resting her on his knee as he sits on his throne. She grasps at his tunic and babbles happily.

As the room fills once again with roars from the gathered dwarves, you lean as close to the throne as you can from your seat. "Long live the king."

"Long live the queen," Fíli whispers back. "Long may she reign."