Another request fill this time. I don't remember who all asked for this, but I believe there were a fair few. Enjoy!

Chapter 12

Many Meetings

Erebor, summer 2942 TA

Dear Jacko,

Well, he's here. The baby, I mean. It took an awful lot of trouble for him to get here in the first place, but now he's asleep in his cradle and Thorin is staring at him like he's discovered a mithril vein in one of the mines. It's a rare sight to see him like this, emotions on full display. You'd say that after a year and a half we'd have become at least a little better at showing what we feel, but guess what, we're only marginally less hopeless at it than we were when we first met. Well, at the very least we're still making progress, even if we're moving slower than a hibernating bear. It's progress all the same.

It takes a really special occasion to express what we feel as opposed to feeling it and not saying a word about it, as is our wont. But this is such a special occasion. But then, we never even thought our little Thoren was possible at all, but here we are, having a miracle of our very own.

Of course, we could have had better timing, but timing has never been our strong suit, for neither of us, so maybe I shouldn't have been surprised that our son's birth just so happened to coincide with another caravan arriving from the Ered Luin…

It decidedly was not his fault, the King under the Mountain told himself when the door fell shut behind him, it really wasn't. Thorin remembered being present when his sister delivered her sons. Dís had wanted him there, what with almost all their other kin deceased. Thorin had been unable to refuse her. And now at least he knew something of how babes entered the world.

What he hadn't anticipated was that the race of Men had considerably more trouble delivering their offspring than his folk had. Dís had experienced pain and discomfort, but she had always been a strong lass. Dwarvish women in general were stronger. Childbirth was not, as it turned out, as dangerous for them as it was for their mannish counterparts.

It was a conclusion the King under the Mountain was reaching for himself as he stood there, watching Kate suffer, mentally keeping up with the sotto voce stream of curses his queen uttered when another contraction hit.

'You're doing well, Kate.' Thora – because of course the chatty healer would be here – gave her an encouraging smile.

'She is not doing well; she's in pain.' Dori had folded his arms over his chest, the very picture of disapproval. 'Do something about that.' It must be one of the first times Thorin found himself agreeing with Kate's older brother when it came to the former advisor. He might have made more note of the event had this been any other day

Óin pretended he hadn't heard a word Dori said, but Thora, being young and in the possession of excellent hearing, rounded on him. 'It's childbirth, Master Dori,' she said, slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. 'It is not exactly a walk in the park.' If her copying Kate's expressions and speech patterns wasn't an indication that she had spent more time in her company than Thorin personally would have liked, he wouldn't know what was.

'You are a healer,' he snapped. Or she was supposed to pass for one; Óin seemed to tolerate her presence only as long as she wasn't in his way and because his bad hearing made it so that he could not hear most of her wittering anyway. 'You can make it less painful.'

At this moment the subject of conversation butted in. 'Oh, for heaven's sake!' she exclaimed. 'Have you two heard yourselves, fussing like a pair of bloody mother hens! I am right here and I can speak for myself, in case you'd forgotten.'

Oh, he had not forgotten. In fact, he was well acquainted with Kate's I'm-fighting-my-own-battles attitude. But she lived in this world now, had made the conscious decision to stay. Could she not learn to accept that his culture was different from the one she had grown up in and that Thorin, judging by all that he had heard of it, sincerely disliked?

Unlike Thorin, who knew it was wiser not to contradict her – which would not stop him from continuing on his chosen course a little more discreetly – Dori barrelled on with a fervour normally reserved for lecturing his younger brother. Tact was a hard thing to come by in that family; the only one who had been blessed with it was Ori, as far as Thorin was aware.

'It is my duty as your brother…' he began, only to be cut off by his adopted sister, whose temper was steadily approaching the danger zone.

'Out,' she snarled.

This took all in attendance by surprise. It was enough to make even Dori stop and stare, a rare occurrence indeed, as he was rarely ever stopped for anyone once he had started on a rant.

'Beg pardon?'

'Out,' Kate repeated, a grimace on her face. 'I can't do this with the pair of you hovering over me like I'm on my deathbed. So go.'

For a moment Thorin thought she referred to her brothers, but she was still squeezing Nori's hand with no sign of letting go. It was only then that he realised that "the pair of you" referred to Dori and him, the only two persons in the room to have expressed concern. Kate didn't like concern, especially when she thought there was no need for it, so this was not something to be surprised at, but it still stung. Not a year past she had told them that they were in this "together or not at all," but here she was, sending him away, depriving him of the chance to witness his child being born, a child that by rights should not have ever have existed, because it was deemed an impossibility. It was a miracle in the aftermath of a horrible battle that he claimed so many lives and a hope for a future in which there would be less death and more life.

Thora was quick to catch on. 'Well, you heard her,' she said, flapping her hands impatiently. 'Make yourselves scarce.'

Part of Thorin longed to protest, to make his right to be here known. He didn't, but it took him most of his self-control to keep his tongue under control. With his mind he understood that Kate was in pain and that she lashed out when she was. He'd known her long enough to know that it wasn't personal and that she wasn't saying it to hurt him. Nevertheless that was what she did. It was one of those days that he wondered if he would ever fully understand what went on inside her head and if they would ever cease hurting the other – he was long beyond thinking that he didn't do the same thing to her on occasion, even if he did so unknowingly – in such a way.

Dori again displayed his clear lack of tact by turning on Thora. 'Who do you think you are?'

The young healer was protected from his biting anger by a shield of confidence several inches thick. 'Her Majesty's loyal servant,' she replied with a bright smile. 'Well, shoo with you.'

'He gets to stay,' Dori observed, sending a suspicious look in Nori's direction.

'I am here to keep our dear sister and respected queen in high spirits,' he said. 'It's a very responsible task, I'll have you know.'

Dori looked like he was about to utter another objection, but thought better of it at the last possible moment. Had he been born a wizard, his expression would still have summoned a hurricane though, and Thorin felt at least as disgruntled as his brother-in-law looked, but he liked to think he at least could boast better control over his facial expression.

The Maker be praised for distraction, though. He hardly set foot outside the room before Balin accosted him, telling him that the caravan his sister was part of was less than a mile from Erebor. Arrivals from the Blue Mountains had steadily come these past few weeks and Thorin both eagerly anticipated and dreaded his sister's coming. It would be a relief to clap eyes on Dís after more than a year's separation. They had always been close, had faced the cruel world and the hardships of exile side by side. He could not have wished for a truer or more reliable friend and kinswoman. Yet at the same time he did not look forward to seeing the accusation in her eyes for not being there to prevent her youngest's passing. He had sent her a note to warn her. Better that she should hear it from him than from a gossiping and uncaring stranger on the road.

He made his way to the gate, still at a slower pace than he would have liked. The knee had healed nicely from the injury he had sustained in the battle, but, as Elvaethor had predicted, it had not gone back to how it had been. On average days he could get by well enough, but on days like these, when he had spent entirely too much time standing, walking and pacing, there inevitably came a time when the limp came back. But he was determined not to need a walking stick, because Mahal help him, he would not be seen as weak.

Dís was already there when he arrived, talking to Dwalin, who had made up part of the welcoming party in his king's absence.

'Dís,' he said.

That soft-spoken greeting was enough to make her turn around. Her keen eyes took him in and he could see her reach conclusions faster than he could blink. Doubtlessly it hadn't passed her by that he favoured his left leg and that it was costing him increasingly more not to show that the pain had made a reappearance as well. Neither would she have missed the guilt in his eyes.

His grief over Kíli's death had hardly even begun to abate. He only had to close his eyes to be transported back to that horrible moment, reminded all too well that he had been powerless to stop it from happening. And he should have been there. Kíli had been his sister-son, under his protection, one of the few living kinsmen he had left in this world. He should have been there.

'Good to see you're still standing on your own two feet, brother,' she remarked. 'Although on one more than the other.' Like Kate, she had a flippant manner she liked to employ to diffuse potentially explosive situations. He had not been joking when he told Kate they were much alike. Except Dís never needed to be told what was in his heart; she always knew.

'It is good to see you,' Thorin replied. It was. If only it wouldn't be overshadowed by the sorrow Kíli's demise had caused.

At a discreet suggestion of Balin the others disappeared, leaving Thorin the room to be alone with his sister. The moment they did so, he embraced her, silently expressing what his tongue could not yet speak. Dís didn't say anything, but the silence was neither awkward nor uncomfortable. They knew each other too well to need words. Which suited Thorin just as well.

Still, some at least were required. 'I am sorry,' he said. It wasn't nearly enough, could not even begin to make amends for his failure.

'I know.' There was no I forgive you, but neither was there the accusation he had anticipated and imagined at length. Dís could have a temper. Her anger burned whereas his froze. They were complete opposites in that respect. It was how they handled things. It was good that Thorin never lost his self-control in the face of all the injustice they had faced, but sometimes he had needed Dís's fire to remind him not to take it, that they were treated wrongly and that he had a right to rail against it. There was no fire now.

'I should have…' he began, because he should have been and done so many things.

His sister only shook her head. 'No.'

He stopped. 'What do you mean?'

'It was a battle. Kíli knew the risks. You couldn't have prevented this.' He could only wonder at how much it cost her to say it, to be strong for him, to not blame him when she must feel the grief even more keenly than Thorin himself did. How could she even stand there without looking at him as if he wasn't the sole cause she only had one son left instead of two?

'Dís…'

Once again he was not allowed to complete his sentence. 'He killed a dragon. He survived that. You weren't to know the battle would take his life instead.'

Except he had known. That cursed book of Kate's had foretold it before the quest had even begun. He might as well tell her. 'I did know.'

Dís snorted. 'Yes, some sort of enchanted book.' Like he had at the start, she didn't seem to think much of it. It was surprising that she knew of its existence, though. 'Fíli told me when he met me at Dale.' Another snort. 'But since when have you held with any of that magic nonsense? Have you gone addle-brained after hanging around that wizard for too long?' She gave him a scrutinising look. 'Word has it you've taken a mannish girl for your queen. Imagine my surprise when Fíli told me it was true.'

Kate. He'd known that sooner rather than later the subject of conversation would turn in this direction. And there was every possibility of Dís not taking it well. Theirs was not a race that welcomed outsiders with open arms after all, and they had very good reason not to. And Kate Andrews was even more of an outsider than anyone could even suspect.

'It is true,' he nodded.

'Catherine,' Dís prompted, raising one eyebrow in a request for him to please explain what in the world was going on.

'Kate,' he corrected. His sister was no outsider that she should use the name Kate didn't like.

'Kate,' she conceded with that whatever-you-want-brother look that really meant she still wasn't overly charmed by what was happening. 'Fíli told me where she was from and what she was doing with your company. What I don't understand is why in Mahal's name you thought it wise to marry her. A mannish girl? Thorin, have you taken a complete leave of your senses?'

It was a question that had been more than implied by most of the people – elves, men, orcs and dwarves alike – he had met with since he had left the Shire. Of course they had jumped to the wrong conclusions at first, but later, when there was truth to their observations, he had spent considerable time thinking on an answer and until this day, had failed to come up with one that satisfied both him and the questioners.

It was the right thing to do, he meant to say, but that was both too formal and wrong. He hadn't married Kate Andrews only because his honour demanded it of him. He had done it because he wanted to, not just because everyone just assumed it had happened already and it was just a clever lie they encouraged to save their skins. It went a lot deeper than that. If truth be told, he loved her. It was plain and simple. It took considerable more effort to translate that into the spoken word.

He had the good fortune that Dís was such a skilled reader of his face. She shook her head when it dawned on her. 'Mahal, save us all,' she said. 'Our people aren't short on eligible maidens, but it had to be a mannish one from another world who turned your head.' There was yet another snort, just a tad disbelieving. 'She must be quite something.' Again, there was not a trace of reproach in either her eyes or her voice.

'She is like you in many ways,' Thorin said, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The temper, the quick wits, the teasing smile. 'Although she lacks the beard.' That was something he had learned to see past, but his people were still adjusting. But they had defeated a dragon and reclaimed a homeland – and Lufur had been spreading stories of her heroic stand at the side door during the battle – and outright disgust had in quite some cases turned into reluctant acceptance and, in one or two rare instances, even to respect. Balin may have been right after all when he remarked he had earned the right to make a few controversial decisions.

'Such a rare specimen and yet I do not see her here to make my acquaintance.' There was the light mocking he had missed on so many a day this past year. She was still questioning his decisions – and possibly his sanity – but she also loved him with the unconditional love of a sister. He had her loyalty, as he had always had and he was a lucky dwarf because of it.

'She is in labour,' Thorin said, which consequently brought the matter back to the centre of his attention. Would the child be born already? He wondered. He hardly knew anything of such matters after all. For Kate's sake, he hoped the birthing process would be over. He was not squeamish in the very least, but it never got easier seeing loved ones in pain. And in danger. Thorin knew enough of the world to know that childbirth was not without risks for the race Kate belonged to.

'Ah,' Dís said. 'Which begs the question why you're here with me and not with her holding her hand.'

Lying to Dís would be useless; she'd see through it in seconds. 'I was asked to leave the room to take my worries elsewhere.' It sounded more dignified than I was kicked out of the room because I fussed too much for Kate's taste.

To his surprise a knowing smile tugged at Dís's lips. 'Spirited lass, eh? Good on her.'

He arched an eyebrow, asking her to elaborate.

'Thorin, there were moments I would have sent you away if I could,' she said. 'Maker knows you were driving me around the bend with all that fretting you were doing over me and the lads.' It was impertinent to speak like that, but he had always accepted it from her. She was family; she had a right. But when Kate had done the same, he'd been vexed at first, because she could claim no such right. She could now, but not when they first met.

'Why didn't you?' he asked.

'Because you are my brother and had a brotherly right,' she said. Thorin heard what she hadn't spoken, though. She'd let him stay, because she hadn't wanted to hurt him by sending him away. Dís was not known as a selfless person, but she had always been for him, even when he felt he was the last dwarf who'd be deserving of such devotion.

'Thank you.' Other words would not suffice. And Dís would know the deep emotion behind them without him having to spell it out.

Dís was on the verge of saying something, but never got the chance, because Nori interrupted. 'What are you two doing here chin-wagging?' he asked, sauntering into the room as if he had a right to. Nori had never been one to abide by any law of decency – or laws in general, come to think of it – and he had only gotten worse now that he was kin of sorts to the King under the Mountain in spite of Dori's attempts to rein him in.

And Thorin had just about enough of it. 'You should not be here.' If he had appointed himself as Kate's helper, he should stay with her and do some actual helping.

'What, and miss the chance to announce I've just become an uncle to a prince of Durin's line? Nah, don't think so.' He shrugged. 'It's the kind of thing I'd think you'd be interested in knowing, but if you're not, I'd better find my brothers to impart the good news.'

There was going to be a day when he grabbed Nori by the collar and personally disposed of him outside the gates, but maybe not today. Because while utterly infuriating, what he was so ineloquently saying was that the babe had been born.

'It is over?' he asked.

'So it is,' Nori replied, his usual cheerful self. 'I'll say, I swear I almost felt her squeezing my hand near the end, so that's saying something, but the only one crying is your new-born son, so I reckon Kate's quite all right.'

Dís chuckled. 'Good to see some people never change around here.' For some reason that went far beyond Thorin's comprehension, she had always thought Nori more amusing than annoying. She gave him a soft shove in the direction that rascal had just come from. 'Go see your wife and son. I will keep.'

He wanted to go. Thorin very much wanted to go and confirm with his own eyes what Nori had said, but what kind of brother would he be if he left his sister here?

Dís made the decision for him by shoving him a second time. 'Anyone would say you were afraid to face your wife and son,' she remarked in that gently mocking tone. 'Go.'

And so he went. He imagined that he would be admitted back into the room now that the hard part was over and done with, but it felt rather surreal all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he had not managed to wrap his head around the idea that Kate and he had been able to conceive a child together. It should not have been possible. And yet it had happened and it had happened so very, very quickly. And between getting rid of elves and men and starting to rebuild Erebor from the ruins Smaug had left there had been so little time to stand still and let the realisation sink in.

And now he had to. Of course Kate had let him feel when the child kicked within her womb and no one could have missed the unmistakable swelling of her stomach as the pregnancy progressed, but as long as the child had not been born, it was hard to feel that he was truly about to become a father.

But it'd be no good dwelling on that. He'd reached the rooms he shared with Kate and knocked, more out of politeness than actual necessity; they were his rooms after all.

He didn't need to wait long before the door was opened. 'Ah, there you are,' Thora said. 'Congratulations. You have a healthy baby boy.' That sunny disposition of hers had clearly weathered the storm of Kate's temper. 'Right,' she added over her shoulder. 'You give me a shout should you need anything.' With a wink that was entirely too impertinent, she grinned: 'Enjoy.'

Thora was gone in a whirlwind of brown braids before Thorin could take her to task for it.

But with the chatty girl out of the way, he could enter the room properly. Kate was still in bed, propped up against the pillows, a blue shawl draped over her shoulder and what appeared to be a bundle of blankets in her arms.

'Well, don't just stand there,' she said. 'Come meet him.'

Uncertainty made him linger at the door. 'Are you not afraid of my fussing?' She had sent him away for that to begin with.

Kate laughed, an actual unrestrained kind of laugh that lit up her entire face, the kind that had been only too rare. 'More afraid of Dori's. Yours I believe I can manage.'

His feet made their way to the bed of their own volition. Thorin could not recall making a conscious decision to do so. As he came closer it became obvious that Kate was not holding mere blankets – although he had known that already – but there was a tiny person wrapped in them. He could not recall either Fíli or Kíli ever being this little.

'Well, they must have been,' Kate commented, making Thorin realise that he had spoken his thoughts out loud. 'So… what do you think?' He didn't think he imagined the uncertainty in her voice. Had he not made it clear enough that this child was welcome?

But he had never been one to find the right words at the right time and it seemed that this was no exception. They had been given a miracle all their own, a son. He had never believed he would ever marry, much less become a father. He'd had to take care of his people; there simply was no room left for a wife and offspring. And there hadn't been a need. Dís had given him heirs and they were more than he could have asked for.

'He has got your hair,' he offered, seating himself on the bed. And indeed he had. There was no mistaking that colour and, though little hair there was, it was already curling.

Kate smiled. It was the kind of smile that he seldom ever saw on her. It wasn't mischievous or wicked. If anything, it was soft and peaceful. 'Poor dear. He's been struck by the Andrews curse.' When Thorin merely stared at her in confusion, she clarified: 'The curls. It's what Jacko used to call it. Wild, curly and completely unmanageable.'

'It is not a curse,' Thorin told her. Mahal knew that it was her first physical feature he had even taken note of.

'Not an actual curse,' Kate agreed. 'That's just what we called it.' She grinned at him. 'The rest of his looks all come from you, though, right down to the scowl.'

'Babes do not scowl,' he corrected her. Certainly not his son. As it was, he was lying in his mother's arms, sleeping. Looking at him made him feel more real. The impossible had happened.

'He does,' Kate insisted. 'Tell you what, though, it looked absolutely adorable on him.'

They fell into silence, just watching. There had been many a silence between them, but not many had been so companionable. This one was. It was new and strange, but Thorin rather thought he could get used to it. After all, they had a child together. The marriage was real and Kate wouldn't ever leave. The quest had been successful and he had lived to tell the tale.

'You know what,' Kate spoke up all of a sudden. 'I have been an idiot.'

The sudden announcement was enough to tear Thorin's gaze away from his new-born son in favour of looking at his wife in bewilderment. 'How so?'

'Well, what woman in her senses would send her husband away while she is giving birth?' she asked. The manner of her speech was light-hearted, but Thorin had learned to know better. This was Kate apologising. 'I mean, really? Sending my brother away was probably my best decision all week, but you? Not my best move now, was it?'

'It wasn't.' He had meant to be there and she had sent him away, had made him leave. Pretending that it hadn't hurt would be futile. It had.

She smiled sheepishly. 'I'm sorry, Thorin. And I'm still trying to get the hang of this whole relationship thing. I've never been any good at it, you know. So, I'll do better next time?'

Recognising the peace offering for what it was, he pressed a kiss to her mouth in silent response.

Kate Andrews was sorry. It wasn't an emotion she was feeling very often, and if she did, she hardly ever spoke of her regret or offered her apologies. But this situation rather called for it. Because even though Thorin hadn't said in so many words that he was hurt, that didn't mean he didn't feel it. They didn't really talk about feelings, after all. They let their actions speak for them instead. However, every now and then, when she had really screwed up, she needed to add words to get her message across.

True, she had been in pain and Dori was annoying the hell right out of her, but Thorin had, all things considered, kept very good control of himself and his reactions. And she had overreacted. Something like that required a spoken apology, the kind where she actually said she was sorry, albeit in her own roundabout way of going about such a task. He deserved that, especially because he had a fear of people leaving him that went back decades, well over a century even.

The mood lightened after she had accomplished that. Thorin was actually doing some real smiling, the sort of smiling where the joy actually reached his eyes. And so Kate had done the only thing she could think of to make that smile stay there: she passed her son over to his father.

In hindsight that might not have been her brightest idea, because Thorin had hardly let go of him since. Even now, while he was lying on his back on their bed, the babe was lying on his chest, prevented from rolling off by his father's hands. If anything, Thoren seemed to find the upwards and downwards motion of Thorin's chest as he breathed calming, because, like his father, he slept like the dead.

Well, that's a relief, Kate thought wryly. At least I won't be woken up by his crying every hour of every night.

It wasn't all that late yet, but they had decided to call it a night early. Thorin had been pushing himself too hard all day, walking too much and refusing to sit down even when a chair was offered to him and Kate was really just exhausted, but her mind wouldn't shut down and so here she was, sitting in front of the fire, watching her husband and son excel at the activity she herself would love to gain a mastery in. Goodness knew she needed it.

So naturally insomnia would choose tonight to grace her with its presence. And really, it wasn't that strange at all. She was running high on emotion. Joy was the first and foremost of them. She had a son and he was amazing. It would seem she would need to correct her opinion about there being no such thing as love at first sight, because oh hell, yes, there was such a thing.

And then there was that tiny sliver of regret trying to spoil it all, reminding her that there was a great part of her family that would never know about her child. And they would surely have loved to meet him, well, once they got over the weirdness of the whole thing. Heaven knew it had taken Kate long enough to wrap her head around the idea of Middle Earth and its people being real.

But that's never going to happen, so get your head out of your fantasies, Andrews. She'd made her choice, she'd said her goodbyes – sort of – and now it was time to start living in the real world, pun fully intended. Besides, yes, she missed her family, but she had a husband and a son just a few metres away and they were family too. Not to mention her three adopted brothers, who all seemed to dote on the newest addition to the family. According to Nori, Dori was only so enthusiastic because he had someone younger than Ori to fuss over, which might explain Ori's very relieved expression.

Still, they somehow never managed to erase the sense of loss that had been casting its shadow over her ever since she had given her letters to Gandalf. Resign yourself to the fact that's never going to change. As it was, she thought she might have felt guiltier if she had gone back and had left Thorin. It was a small consolation only, but a consolation all the same.

Oh, for heaven's sake, quit it with the doom and gloom, Andrews. Not that she used that name anymore, except in her own head. Having said that, Kate was at a loss as to what her actual surname was these days, or even if she had one. Dwarves didn't do surnames and Thorin's Oakenshield was more of a nickname or an honorary title to commemorate his contribution to the Battle of Azanulbizar than an actual name. So what made that of her then? Most folk called her by her title – and someone calling Kate Her Majesty still gave her the urge to look over her shoulder to find out which royal was standing behind her – or with her first name, either the full or shortened version of it. For the past months that had sufficed and maybe that was all the answer she needed.

And just maybe it was time to try and give going to sleep another go, which of course was the moment Thoren chose to wake up and start fussing. Impeccable timing he has, that's for sure. Thorin didn't seem to have noticed that the baby had woken up. On the road he had been a light sleeper – when he managed to snatch some to begin with – but now, when he knew he was safe, it was hard work getting him to wake in the morning, something that hadn't stopped amusing her yet. She was sure it would before a week had passed, though; being the one to see to a fussing infant all hours of the night was bound to erase most of her tolerance and selflessness soon enough.

For now, however, she would let him sleep, because goodness knew he needed his rest, what with him pushing himself to the breaking point and, Kate strongly suspected, often beyond. As long as there was work to be done, be it dealing with the dreaded business of state or making sure the kingdom became inhabitable again, Thorin would not be sitting down, even if it was best for that knee of his. Of course it was healing well, even Óin agreed, but that didn't mean Thorin should go on his merry way and undo all the good work. There was already a chance it would never quite go back to how it used to be.

'Come here,' Kate said, lifting Thoren from his father's chest, hoping that carrying him around for a bit might do the trick of sending him off to sleep again. Or maybe he was hungry. How was she supposed to know? It wasn't as if she was an expert on motherhood and giving birth hadn't provided her with an instant package of knowing what to do when a baby was crying.

Fortunately, just this time at least, Thoren seemed content to be held; he ceased crying the moment Kate took him into her arms and exited the bedroom to let Thorin enjoy his rest. He showed no signs of picking up where he left off with his nap, though. Instead he was just staring up at her. Oh, and that was definitely a miniature version of Thorin's face she saw.

'You take after your dad, don't you?' she said, glad she had left the bedroom so her talking wouldn't wake Thorin. Besides, there was this lovely rocking chair in the sitting room, just perfect for the purpose of getting a fussy child to sleep. 'Although you seem to have inherited that mess of curls we Andrews have to call hair. I imagine that'll be fun to brush out once it starts to grow.' She touched his hair. 'You're a little miracle, you know.' He seemed to like her voice and so she kept talking. 'And all the more dear to me because of it. You are so loved, Thoren, so very loved.'

Whatever it was that stayed her tongue and prevented her from speaking her heart was gone. Temporarily, no doubt. When morning came and she'd had some sleep, she'd revert back to her usual self. Becoming a mother would not change her that much overnight.

'My mum would have loved you too,' she heard herself say, not entirely sure where that had come from, especially given the fact she had all but forbidden herself to think about what she had left behind. Tonight was not a night for such dismal thoughts and for heaven's sake, could she at least be happy for a few hours before the regret intruded on her happiness again?

Already she was so tired of always feeling pulled in two directions and she still had her whole life ahead of her. It had been less than a year since she made her decision to stay and hardly a day had gone by that she hadn't been thinking about it. True, she knew her regret would have been worse had she chosen differently, but that didn't necessarily make it easier to live with the decision she had made. How did anyone do this? Of course, there was no one to ask, her position being so annoyingly unique. Bloody Gandalf. God give he won't do this to anyone else once the whole Ring crisis comes around. Although she would be long dead and buried by the time that happened, she might just come back to haunt him for all eternity if he as much as contemplated doing to another living soul what had been done to her.

'She would have,' she continued. 'She was always on my case to find a good man so she wouldn't be too old and grey before she became a grandmother. If she'd known you, she'd have spoiled you rotten until I could have strangled her. And your Uncle Jacko would have made sure you had some basic football skills as soon as you could walk. It's always vexed him I didn't have the slightest bit of interest in the wretched game. No sense in running after a ball only to kick it away again, is there?'

The thing was, she could see it. If only she closed her eyes, she could see what could have been if she had gone back, the life Thoren would have had there. Not that he would have been called Thoren then. The name only served to remind folk whose son he was, that he was an heir of Durin's Folk and that was not something to be questioned, as some people did, people who hadn't been on the quest, who had no idea what they were talking about. In that way they may have been very lucky with how Thoren turned out to look, a perfect of Thorin and her both, although with Thorin's features dominating thus far.

'Not that you won't have a very great and loving family right here,' she went on, more to remind herself than to remind her son, who after all wasn't old enough to understand what she was on about. 'Your dad loves you so much, Thoren, you have no idea. And don't get me started on your uncles. True, Uncle Dori will preach and lecture until he drops for want of air, but if anyone is bothering you, he's the best protector you could wish for. Uncle Nori will make you laugh, I think, but heaven help him if I ever discover he's been trying to teach you how to pick people's pockets. And Uncle Ori will teach you everything you need to know. He's a walking and talking encyclopaedia, that one.'

'What use will he have for his aunt then?'

Kate had been so caught up in her own little world consisting solely of Thoren and her that she had missed the arrival of a so far unknown dwarf. Female, she judged after a quick examination, a dwarrowdam. She might as well learn to use the correct terminology, seeing as how she was Queen under the Mountain these days. Having come to that conclusion, she could only say that she looked an awful lot like Thorin. In fact, had Thorin been born female, she imagined this was what he would have looked like. They shared the same nose, eyes and mouth. They even were quite similar in build.

'Dís?' she asked hesitantly. Thorin had mentioned his sister had arrived in one of the few moments he wasn't too preoccupied adoring his son and he had said something about Kate meeting her soon. It was just that she hadn't expected it would be this soon.

The dwarrowdam nodded. 'And you must be Kate.'

It was hard to learn from her tone what she thought at all and the nerves, so easily summoned these days, took up residence once more in her stomach. They were good tenants and even when they left, they were never that far away. It wasn't like Kate Andrews to be so nervous about what others thought of her. But that had rather changed when she ended up becoming Queen under the Mountain. The position had never been meant for one like her. She was no dwarf and she was not from this world, even though she did now belong there. The dwarvish customs and laws continued to confuse her and in months past she had been afraid of making a fool out of herself more than once. And in a way meeting Dís was scarier than dealing with Blackbeard and his ilk, because she was someone Thorin held in high esteem. She really didn't want to mess this up. All of a sudden, she felt woefully unprepared.

'I am.' The most original greeting uttered in living memory, to be sure. That's the best you can come up with? 'I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you on your arrival,' she offered. 'I was…'

'Giving birth to my nephew,' Dís finished. Was that amusement she saw in her eyes? It was so hard to tell. 'My brother told me.'

Say something! Kate ordered herself, but her brain must have melted all of a sudden, because she couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't sound horribly cliché and utterly inane. Awkwardness increased by the second. Oh, for goodness sake, it isn't like you to be speechless. You're a grown woman and you can handle this. Get a bloody move on!

'Will you sit down?' she asked. Not the most original thing to settle on, but better than nothing at all.

Dís did as she asked with only a curt nod in confirmation. 'Where's my brother gone off to?' she wondered.

'Sleeping,' Kate replied. For a brief moment she considered waking him, but then, remembering how exhausted he had looked, decided against it. Besides she was not such a weakling that she needed her husband to get through a meeting with her sister-in-law. If Dís asked for him, she could always go and wake him. Until then, she was on her own.

Oh, joy.

There had been many a day when Dís, daughter of Thráin, had wondered about her brother's intelligence, or rather the apparent lack thereof. She had experienced a great many such days of late. Truth be told, she had already had her doubts when he had announced he would set out to reclaim their kingdom with just a small company consisting of kin and friends, with the addition of a wizard and a burglar. And of course he had taken her boys with him. He could hardly do anything else, them being his heirs. But Dís had spent the better part of a year fearing for them.

And then the news had come. The dragon had been defeated and her Kíli was the one to have done it. What mother would not be proud of such an achievement? Reckless he may have been, but he would be remembered as the one who had freed the region of the greatest blight that had ever laid upon it. She had been unable to stop smiling and whistling for joy for days on end.

Until her joy had been cut short so cruelly. Her youngest, her Kíli, so full of life, had been cut down on the field of battle. Thorin's note was short and formal, as was his way, but Dís had known her brother long enough to taste his pain. Like as not, he was beating himself up over it more than she could ever do.

It was no one's fault, she knew that. Dwarves went to war when they could, when there was a need, and her son had died for the most noble of causes: in defence of their halls. He died with honour and that should be a consolation. And it was. But there were times when Dís could only mourn for all those that she had lost. She knew she was not that old yet, but her heart felt ever so weary. Will it ever end?

It had ended now. Or, that was what she hoped for at the very least. Erebor was theirs. They had a Mountain to call their own once more. Their people would have a refuge, a place to call their own. Thorin had succeeded against all the odds. At the very least it had provided her with a distraction as she packed up her life and moved back east again. She had a people to look after and to guide in Thorin's absence. It fell to her to lead them over the Misty Mountains and through Mirkwood and it was a task that kept her busy from dawn till dusk.

Of course it didn't help to be confronted with elves like Thranduil, who had been nothing but accommodating when they passed through his realm. That in itself was enough to set Dís's alarms off. She didn't really remember the day Erebor fell to Smaug; she'd been too young. There was only a vague impression of fire, screams and the smell of smoke that had been in her nostrils for weeks after. But she remembered what Thorin told her, that even though they begged for help – and dwarves never begged unless there was good cause – the elves had stood and watched before they turned away. Turning away was what they were good at.

Well, turning away and playing those cursed mind games of theirs. So when Thranduil bid her convey his warmest greetings to her brother's wife, Dís was understandably confused. Not that she had given that arrogant king any clue as to said confusion. Rather, she had ignored the remark altogether and had gone back to her tasks. But of course she wondered what the elf had meant, and so had all the others who had been present to hear the words.

So of course her mind had been churning over Thranduil's words again and again. Thorin had a wife? The very notion was absurd. Her brother had never shown the slightest interest in any lass. Even if he was inclined to turn his mind to romance, his duties never left him the time for it. He had always been working so hard, making sure their people had a place to work and rest their travel-weary heads. The title of king had come to him too soon in life and Thorin was a dwarf who took his responsibilities seriously, even though no joy derived from it. So if he had not found the time for romance in day-to-day life, how in Durin's name had he managed to find it on the quest for Erebor? It did not make sense. The marrying bit made even less sense, if that was possible. Dwarven courtships could last for years before the wedding followed.

But apparently there was some truth to Thranduil's words, for when they came in Dale, or what would in days to come be Dale once more, the people spoke of a Queen under the Mountain, a woman named Catherine, a mannish lass who had somehow managed to snatch herself a king for a husband and whose tongue was not to be underestimated. Stranger and stranger, she remembered thinking and not for the first time Dís wondered about Thorin's state of mind. What had he done?

Fortunately it was Fíli who managed to shed some led onto this situation. He had met her in Dale and had told an altogether wondrous tale which of course all came down to a wizard and his hare-brained schemes. Dís had never liked magic much. It was something she could not defend herself against with any arms that a smith could make. And this tale of other worlds and magic books made her ill at ease. Not that she doubted her own son's words, but Thorin must have been out of his mind to marry such a woman. Not to mention that it was rare, if not unique, to hear of a marriage between a dwarf and a mannish girl.

What had he been thinking?

The answer to that question came when she asked him about it. Of course, being Thorin, he did not give her a verbal reply, but she knew him well enough to read his face. He'd fallen in love at last. Maker help us all. She must be quite something. Well, spirited at least, given the fact she'd sent Thorin away so that she could give birth to her babe in peace.

Curiosity well and truly piqued she had decided to go and make her acquaintance once she had finally a moment to do so. The sun had set a while ago, but it wasn't all that late yet and so she had asked directions from Dwalin and had gone on her way.

At first, Kate was something of a disappointment. The lass was small for one of her race, although her height wouldn't stand out in Erebor. Fragile too, from what she could see. Whatever the attraction existed between the lass and Thorin, it could not be anything physical. Too frail, no beard and not much of that spirit the people in Dale had spoken of either, not that she could see anyway.

But for all intents and purposes she was kin now and for Thorin's sake she would make an effort, even though she would love for him to be here. But her brother was asleep, Kate – the name sounded utterly foreign – had informed her and the reply had not been followed by an offer to wake him. Dís assumed that none would be forthcoming and resigned herself to sitting through one of the most awkward visits of her life.

In her tries to make conversation suddenly the elf's words sprang to mind. 'King Thranduil wished for me to convey his warmest greetings to you.'

Kate's head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. 'Thranduil is a gossiping busybody who's entirely too shrewd for his own good,' she declared, making it quite clear that there was no love lost between her and the elven king at all. Ah, there was the fire she had heard of but had not witnessed. 'And he wouldn't have conveyed his greetings at all if it hadn't given him the opportunity to confuse you. Or cause strife in your midst.' She thought for a moment. 'Or both.'

'He did not cause discord,' Dís reassured her, liking the lass slightly better than she did before. Men were usually too much in awe of elves to say anything against them despite their obvious flaws, but this Kate seemed to be an exception in more than one way. 'I take it you do not like him much.'

Kate snorted. 'Like him? If I never see his face again, it will be too soon. Did you know he had the lot of us imprisoned when we passed through Mirkwood?'

Dís shook her head. Despite her earlier misgivings about Thorin's choice in partner, there was something that was vaguely familiar. It took her a few moments to work out where she had come across it before, but then she remembered. There had been days when she could be just like that. How many times hadn't she been angry during their exile, lashing out about the wrongs done to them? And her wit had always served her well in that. It was just slightly unnerving to find such a familiar trait in a mannish lass.

'Thorin's note made no mention of it,' she replied.

Kate smiled. There was a hesitance to it, as if she wasn't sure how far she could go and what she could say. 'Want me to tell you about it?'

Why not? 'If you wouldn't mind telling the tale,' she said.

'Not at all.'

The bedroom was both dark and empty when he woke. Unlike most of the dwellings under the Mountain, the bedroom Thorin shared with Kate had windows, mostly for her benefits. Had dawn been breaking, there would be some natural light coming in through them, but it was still dark.

And that was unusual. As soon as the elves and men departed after their siege, he had started sleeping better at night, confident in knowing that no enemy would disturb his sleep or take Erebor for his own while its king rested. That he had woken up now was reason enough to wonder about the reason.

But he was fairly certain that there should at least be two more people in the room. Thorin recalled falling asleep with his son on his chest and Kate somewhere in the room. It had, all things considered, been a joyful day. It still hurt that Kate had asked him to leave, but at the very least she had apologised. He could hardly hope for more.

Over the past months he had learned that being married to Kate did not automatically mean they were sailing smoother now than they had done before. They still disagreed on matters, they still were of the opinion that the other could be particularly pig-headed and difficult and they still weren't any good at talking about matters of the heart. But there was a solid foundation now, preventing them from falling apart as they had done before Dáin's arrival. He could trust her now, trust her not to leave when it got hard. There was a quiet comfort in knowing that.

But she was not here with him, and he distinctly remembered Óin, when he came to check on mother and babe, saying that Kate should get some rest. And while she was constantly chiding him for ignoring the advice of the healers, she wasn't doing much better herself. In that way, they truly were too much alike.

He was pondering this when a bout of laughter from the living room found its way to Thorin's ears. Kate's he recognised instantly and the other voice took him only a moment longer to identify. It was because he hadn't heard his sister laugh in such a long time, he reasoned. He'd been away for too long and their reunion had not given either of them much cause for merriment.

If he was really honest, he hadn't known what to expect when his sister and his wife met, but he had been fairly certain he should have been there when it happened. Dís had not sounded and looked as though she wholly approved of his choice in partner and he had known Kate was nervous about meeting Dís. After all, they had gotten married without her knowing about it. Dís had a right not to be happy about that, she'd said and Thorin had to agree she made a fair point.

He was about to rise and join them – he was surprised Kate had let him sleep through it all to begin with, given how tense she'd been about this meeting – when he first heard the front door close and then the door to his bedroom open. There was a little light left from the sitting room, just enough to allow Thorin to see his wife holding Thoren.

'Hush now, you,' she warned the babe in soft tones. 'We won't want to wake him now, do we?'

Her sight in the dark was not as good as his and so she must have thought he was still asleep. 'What was my sister doing here?' he asked. Why didn't you wake me? Was that because she thought this too was a battle she ought to be fighting on her own? After more than a year he thought he knew her a little better, but that did not necessarily make it easier to interact with her. For all that she said they should take on the world together, Kate had an annoying tendency to go off on her own and face it alone regardless.

Kate stiffened. 'For heaven's sake, Thorin!' she hissed at him. 'You scared the crap out of me.'

'What was she doing here?' Experience has taught him that the quickest way to get to an answer was by repeating the question and refusing to acknowledge her reaction.

True to expectations, it worked this time just as well as it had done in the past. 'Saying hello,' Kate replied. She put the babe in the cradle and then waited for a couple of seconds. When nothing happened, she tiptoed over to their bed and made a hushing gesture in his direction. 'Please keep your voice down. He's only just fallen asleep and I don't want to wake him again.'

'My sister and you wouldn't have been helping much,' he observed. If he had heard their voices, it was certain that his son would have heard them much better.

'He likes laughter,' Kate declared, shooting him that look that Thorin knew to mean that she full well knew he was right, but was not going to admit it because she wanted to salvage what was left of her pride. 'Makes him scowl less,' she added with a teasing grin.

The teasing was still new. It had not been part of their original interactions. Thorin wondered what it said about them that they took so much time getting used to new things in their own relationship. Kate called them a dysfunctional couple that somehow functioned in spite of it all. It was as good an explanation as any he might care to think of.

'Babes do not scowl,' he insisted.

Kate didn't miss a beat. 'Not when he's sleeping, he doesn't.' She got into bed and laid claim to the thing she deemed the best pillow, which just so happened to be him. 'By the way, did I happen to tell you I really like your sister?'

As she drifted off to sleep Thorin, son of Thráin pondered that every now and then there were days in his life when the sorrow for those he lost didn't weigh him down so much. There were days when he did not fear quite so much for the future of his people as he did on others. There were days when his duty did not feel so much like a weight pressing him down. There were days when Thorin found he could smile without restraint.

This day, he concluded before he joined his wife in slumber, had been such a day.

Thorin and Kate just can't seem to be only happy, can they? I tried to get them to be fluffy for a bit, but they weren't cooperating much. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

On another note, after being asked about it quite a number of times, I've started to write a sequel to The Journal, called The Book, dealing mainly with Thorin and Kate's children in the time period of the Lord of the Rings. Also, Gandalf isn't quite done messing with the Andrews family yet. I'm about two and a half chapters in at the moment, but I'd like to know if there is a bit of interest from your side before I start posting anything, because the Lord of the Rings is a huge story and I've a feeling The Book might get really long as well.

Anyway, just let me know. Also, reviews would be very much appreciated.

Thank you for reading!