Archive of Our Own

Thorin had achieved what nobody had believed possible: He had found a way to reclaim the Lonely Mountain and drive away the dragon that had nested inside the old Dwarven Kingdom. He had returned hundreds of his people their home with only the help of a handful of dwarves and a few friends. He had lead an army against an amount of Goblins and Orcs that would have sent most generals into a retreat, as the chances of a victory had been slim, even with allies. He had then done what nobody had believed seeing him doing, namely giving away a large amount of his treasure to help the Man rebuild their town near Erebor, and he had made peace with the Elves.

He had changed, they said. For the better or the worse wasn’t clear yet, but after less than a year Erebor was already regaining its former glory rapidly and the people were happy. Thorin, however, was not. He fulfilled his duties as a King, he saw to the needs of his subjects, he welcomed delegates from Dale, the Mirkwood and further afar regions, he attended every meeting and everyone was delighted at his efficiency and cool mind, much unlike the hot headed and stubborn prince he used to be.

But those who knew the king also saw the unhealthy shade of his skin, the hunched stance Thorin didn’t seem to be able to shake off as soon as he had left the public eye and had a quiet hour. They noticed that the King never smiled anymore, his eyes were harsh and his face never softened. He was never seen enjoying himself during his free time, always leaving quickly when he had some time to spare.

The dwarves knew where their King was leaving, and the members of his former company for that matter. They whispered to themselves and some dared to speak to the heroes who had helped reclaim their homeland and ask whether the latest rumours were true. They did not dare to do this often, as it wasn’t their business and the rare smiles of these dwarves froze and morphed into pain as soon as it was brought up.

The King was guarding a treasure, they said, much like the dragon had done before, a treasure hidden away in the royal chambers where only few were allowed to go and even the boldest servants didn’t dare to sneak in to.

The last member of the company, the little creature from the west, of a people that most had never seen before. A Hobbit woman, they said, a peace-loving kind that looked like a young Human in shape but had a proper height and ears that looked like those of the elves. She had accompanied Thorin Oakenshield and she had played a big role in reclaiming the mountain and defeating many foes, ranking from wild beasts, over Orcs, to the dragon himself with nothing but a small sword and her wit.

For that the people were grateful, and not only the dwarves but even the humans and elves were telling her story. Thorin had heard of those, unable to flee the company of his subjects entirely and catching bits of what they were telling and singing about brave little Billa Baggins of the Shire. They were saying that she had saved their king and his dwarves from trolls, that she had freed the entire company from the dungeons of the Elven King at great peril and that she had used her own body as a shield to save the king from his greatest enemy, the pale Orc.

They were saying that the Hobbit, whom hardly anyone had seen prior to the Battle of Five Armies, was beautiful, even by the standards of the dwarves and that her striking form made up for her lack of beard or whiskers. They said that she had joined the vicious battle, to fight for her King, they were saying that never had such a small creature fought so fiercely, that the Hobbit was a formidable shield maiden and that she had slain every enemy that had dared to attack the heirs of Durin. They said that she had fallen, and that her wounds had put her into a deep sleep from which even her wizard friend could not awake her, and that their King was holding guard over her, as he loved her dearly and would not have any harm come over her.

It made Thorin bitter to hear these tales. For none mentioned how he, the foolish King without a crown, had dragged a sweet little woman into great dangers on a quest that was not hers, how he had sneered at her while she had shown nothing but kindness to someone to whom she owed nothing. They did not say that he had put someone in danger who was hardly older than a child by his people’s standards.

They neglected to mention that he had nearly thrown the woman he had come to love over the walls of Erebor, they did not say that he had grabbed the one who he had hope to make his Queen by the neck and shook her so hard that the bruises had already begun to form when she scurried of with fear and heartbreak in her eyes. They did not mention that he was so fixed on his grandfather’s gold that he had cast out his sweet little Billa, who had done nothing but try to safe him yet again.

Thorin relived the first days after the Battle of Five Armies in his head over and over again, when he was awake and not preoccupied his mind wandered back, and his dreams were filled with the events. And he could remember it all too well for his own liking, despite being afraid to forget even the smallest detail.

*-*-*-*-*

How his heart had clenched when he had finally come to his senses as the goblin army was rushing towards him. How he had searched for her, desperate to find the tiny Halfling among the wounded on the ground or with the healers, dismissing his own wounds and the blood that was running down his skin.

It had been Bifur who found the trembling woman among the fallen. They all had rushed to her side, Thorin falling on his knees but not daring to gather her in his arms, fearing that he might stir some wounds or that she would not want his presence. Billa had seemed so small, cradled in the old dwarf’s hold, seemingly unharmed apart from the gash that was hidden by her bloodied hair.

Billa had cried, desperately trying to say something but unable to get a sound out. Her eyes were loosing focus, but she had seen Thorin leaning over her and her eyes had widened in fear, but she had reached out to him, not moving away. She had tried to speak but all she could do was to weakly wave her hand as if to point at something, her other fist curling around Thorin’s wrist.

He had lifted her up in his arms then, telling her that he was sorry and that he begged her for forgiveness, he pleaded her to hold on and that everything would be fine now. Billa had stared up at him until her eyes rolled back and she sagged into unconsciousness. Thorin had wanted to carry her back to the healers himself, promising to not let her go ever again, but then Gandalf had appeared, easily picking up the slack form of Billa as if she was just a doll. He had dismissed Thorin’s protests, telling him that he could hardly carry her with his own wounds and that he was not the only one fearing for the Hobbit’s safety.

The healers had been concerned at the gash on her head, which she must have received from a stone or blunt object, but they assured them that she would live and that such a wound was hardly deadly. Thorin had allowed them to tend to his own wounds, but he had refused to be moved away from Billa, watching her as she slept, hoping to be the first to see her open her eyes again.

But she did not open her eyes, not even after a few days had passed, and the healers had predicted that she should awake any moment. She remained unconscious even as every other member of the company was well enough to stand or to be moved into their chambers inside the mountain. They had started to worry, and Gandalf sat by her side, trying to work his magic to wake the Hobbit as the first Men had started to leave towards the ruins of their town. Thorin had not known fear until the moment when the wizard had told him that it was not in his power to wake Billa, even though she was not yet dead. Thorin had wanted to crush something with his bare hands as he realized that there was nothing he could do.

He had watched Billa lying on her too large cot, how she was nearly as pale as she had been after weeks inside the Mirkwood and the dungeons of the elves. There was nothing else he could do for her in Erebor, so he called for Dwalin, Dori, Bifur and Bofur, dwarves he could trust and who were strong and unwounded. He bid them to pick up the cot on which his Billa was sleeping, and led them away from the chambers, out of the mountain.

They hadn’t questioned him, just tried to walk as quickly as it was possible without stirring the woman too much. Thorin had ignored the confused and pitying looks the dwarves of the Iron Hills threw his way as they saw the little person wrapped in blankets and bandages. The other members of the company joined them on their way; everyone else did not dare to approach the grieving King.

Fíli and Kíli were the first to join his side as he marched out of the main gate towards the tents of the Men and Elves, who were not yet ready to return home. They had asked him what was going on, what had happened to Billa that they were bringing her away like this, sick with worry for the woman they had grown to love. He did not answer so his sister-sons, so they just did their best to limb at his pace.

When they reached the tents with the banners of the Woodland Elves in front of them, everyone’s eyes widened, but their steps did not falter as Thorin lead them through the rows of tents and the tall creatures who made way and watched them walk past them. The procession quickly reached a table in a clearing of the tents, where the king and his generals were sitting.

Thranduil rose from his chair as he saw the dwarves approaching, but before he could ask them Thorin had stepped up to him and bowed his head. He made a gesture back to where his loyal friends held his beloved Billa, and explained that there was nothing his dwarf-healers or even Gandalf could do about her condition, that they did not even know what had happened to her. All that he asked was for the elves to try and work their magic on her, and heal her – he would forever be in their debt if they succeeded where everyone else had failed.

The elves had stared at them in shock, and Thranduil had walked over to lean over the still form of Billa. Real pain had crossed his face as he looked at her, and carefully brushed her hair away to take a look at the bandages. A pang of jealousy crossed Thorin’s heart as he saw it, and he wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the damned elf and make him turn away from his treasure. But he had to let the elves touch Billa to safe her, and he did remember her strange ability to enchant all elves and make them love the tiny Halfling.

The elves took the cot away from the dwarves, who all looked less than happy to leave their burglar with someone whom they would consider an enemy still, but there was nothing they could do.

They waited there, for a message from the elves, but none came for hours. Thorin noticed his companions squirming uncomfortably at sitting idly and the presence of so many elves, but he remained stoic, eyes fixed on the tents to where they had carried of his beloved.

Finally Thranduil had returned, joined by a young female elf who looked like she was one of the healers. They both bowed to Thorin slightly, and he immediately had known that whatever they had to say to him could not be good news. And indeed, the elves said that there was no magic they knew of that would awaken the Hobbit right now, as the injury on her head had locked away her mind. Yet she was not dead, and given her own time she would very likely open her eyes again and truly live again.

Thorin had thanked them and promised that they would send messages to the elves should Billa’s condition change, then the dwarves went to fetch her and carried the cot back to the mountain, slower than before and full of grief. The all eyed Thorin, who had remained calm and had hardly said a thing.

They did not bring her back to the healers, there was no use for that after all. Instead Thorin lead them to the royal chambers and chose the one that was the furthest away from the public places. It had once been a small but gorgeous chamber, suited for the wives, sisters or daughters of Kings, with beautiful decorations along the walls and an enormous soft bed on which they placed Billa.

Thorin had brushed the hair from her face, and arranged the blankets around her still body, as if she could feel the comfort of it. He hadn’t cared for the entire company standing around and seeing him caressing her pale wrists. He had walked out then, leaving them all behind until he had crossed the halls past his family’s rooms and reached his own chamber.

It was there where the King under the Mountain had finally allowed his rage to be set free. He had screamed and howled, and he did not mind that it would carry through the halls for everyone to hear. He had grabbed a decorative axe and he had brought it down on the furniture around him, over and over, until both the tool and the stone around him were broken and missing bits, after which he continued to punch everything he could reach until the skin on his knuckles broke and blood was streaming over his hands and from some of his battle wounds.

He did not mind that too, he had screamed his rage out, cursing that the Maker would return him his kingdom but not grant him the power to set right what he had done wrong, to protect his one beloved woman. Was this some kind of punishment for his mistakes, must his love really suffer for all the things he had done?

And so the King under the Mountain, heir of Durin and mightiest of the Dwarven Lords, screamed at thin air, until his voice was nothing but painful rasps and he could do nothing but accept how helpless he actually was.

*-*-*-*

The months had passed and Billa showed no sign of waking up. Thorin ruled over his kingdom and he knew that his people were satisfied and loyal to him. He knew that his heirs started to love their new home and he saw that the members of his company were happy with their share of the treasure and the new status among the dwarves of Erebor.

But Thorin’s heart grew heavy with his guilt. He could not do anything to heal his beloved, he could not apologize and pay for what he had done to her and he could not even offer a simple thank you for all that she had done.

Thorin remained calm in his grief after the night in which he had all but destroyed his chambers. But he spent every minute he could spare at Billa’s side, holding her hand, talking to her or singing songs she had loved listening to. They had dressed her in a soft white nightgown, with beautiful flower patters woven into it, and he was sure that she would have liked it. It did make her seem as if she was merely sleeping, which just hurt Thorin to look at.

It made him feel that she would wake up any moment, frown in her sleep and wrinkle her nose before she would blink up at him and try to remember where she was. She had woken in his arms like this many times, always after Thorin himself had already opened his eyes. He had remained lying like this, content to watch the Halfling slumber in his arms.

He had never thought that the sight of Billa asleep would ever fill his heart with pain. He had always loved that sight before, as he held her exhausted form in his hands, kissing her brow and promising her to make his Queen while she was already drifting away into her dreams.

Now Billa was thin and her skin was cool, like it had been in the dungeons of the elves. Thorin remembered that just too well each time he held the sleeping Hobbit’s hands in his. She had slipped into his cell now and then, when the elves had brought him food. He had let her eat and sleep there, as she explained that she was too afraid to do so with her magic ring still on her finger, as it was dreadfully cold and someone might stumble over her like that.

She had been so exhausted and constantly hungry in these days, but determined to find a way for them to escape. They had offered each other comfort and Thorin had taken her on the hard stone bed of his cell for the first time then. They had shared a bedroll before and he had kissed her sweet lips but nothing more. Billa had not rejected him and still he had felt that he should have waited until they had reclaimed Erebor, until he had anything at all to offer her or until they had at least married properly. But she had been his wife in all but a public ceremony and he had assumed that it would happen anyway.

There was no use to remember happier although harder times or dwell on what could have been. Right now the hope for Billa to wake up was getting slimmer the longer she remained asleep. All Thorin could do was sit by the side of her bed and hold her hand.

Thorin would only leave when the healers and nurses he had allowed close came to change Billa’s pillows and sheets, to wash and feed her fluent food and keep her nourished. It pained him to see her helpless and lifeless like that as she was moved by strangers’ hands, and he thought that he had lost every right to see her in such a vulnerable moment.

At these times Thorin used to wander the halls of Erebor to watch his subjects rebuild the kingdom, but it also made him notice the talks for the first time. He also realized that his people were worried for the woman who should have been their Queen. They prayed for her to recover and he saw that some had even made an effort to make proper flower wreaths in honour of her heritage.

It pained Thorin even more to see that, as it only served to remind him of what he had taken from his Billa as he banished her and caused her to end up in the battle, wounded and unconscious. Even in her sleep she managed to make everyone love her, she would have been a wonderful Queen.

*-*-*-*

Thorin’s habit of leaving the nurses to do their business in peace made him realize that something was not right only weeks after the nurses started whispering among each other, confirming that their suspicions were indeed right. They lingered longer and took more time in washing and redressing the Hobbit than usual, avoiding Thorin’s eyes when he returned to find them still in the chamber.

He paid it no mind, until the day he returned the chamber to find it crowded by all the women he had allowed to enter before and Óin, who was leaning over Billa’s still form and examining and prodding her. They turned and paled as the King entered, none of them daring to move or speak. Thorin drew himself up to full height again, glaring at everyone in the chamber and demanded to know what was going on.

Again, none of the dwarrowdams spoke, they looked at each other and then at the old dwarf who was still examining the Hobbit. Óin turned to his King then, and his face was tired and full of sorrow, much more than the other times he had come to check on the woman’s health.

The look made Thorin’s knees go weak and it took him all his willpower to remain standing where he was and ask to know of Billa’s condition. Óin sighed and lead him away from the chamber and the nurses, and Thorin let him, despite wanting to be at Billa’s side. Had her condition worsened? Did she fall ill in addition of never waking up?

Óin placed a hand on the Kings elbow and asked him how far he had taken his relationship with the Hobbit before they had reached Erebor. Thorin did not answer, but stared at the old dwarf, unsure of how that could concern him in any way. Óin did not seem to mind his silence as he started to tell what had happened.

The dwarrowdams caring for Billa had noticed that she was getting thinner and that was only to be expected, as she was hardly able to eat much more than necessary to keep her alive. But they had also noticed that it was mostly just her cheeks getting hollow and her limbs getting thinner, all in all she was not loosing weight at all.

As Thorin still did not show any reaction but a slightly confused stare, Óin bowed his head and said: “My King, Mistress Billa is with child. She must have been since before the battle and it probably has not shown before because of how it progresses with her kind. But the child lives by some miracle and it is growing at a normal rate, I should say.”

It took him a moment to process what he had just heard, but then Thorin sagged against the wall, unable to keep himself upright anymore. Óin let him stand there for as long as it took Thorin to compose himself and be ready to return to Billa’s chamber. The nurses scurried out as the dwarves returned, leaving Thorin to step up to the large bed.

Billa looked so peaceful, her pale lips nearly curled into a smile. The blankets moved slightly with her soft breaths, and now Thorin could see that there was indeed a slight swell around her stomach. He had not noticed it before, always focused on her face or dismissing it as the blanket’s folds. The King knelt by the bedside, and his hand shook as he took Billa’s in his. Her fingers were lifeless but the motion made them curl slightly, as if she was returning the gentle squeeze. So his little burglar was pregnant with his heir, a little child that was of his blood and hers?

He wondered if she had known that she was with child, and when could it have happened. Thinking back to the last moments of her being awake, she must have already known. Hadn’t she tried to tell them something while pointing at her belly? They had not realized what she had tried to say with it, but that and the fear in her eyes made sense.

Thorin felt his insides clench and he felt that he would be physically sick any moment. The guilt that had eaten away at his mind these last few months returned with tenfold strength as he realized that he had not only wronged Billa beyond forgiveness, no, he had wronged the mother of his unborn child, hurting the babe in the progress. He had endangered his own son or daughter as he had held their mother over the abyss, threatening to throw her down, banishing her, hurting her with his hands and words.

If he could have ever been at peace with what he had done, Thorin knew that this new information would most likely haunt him for the rest of his life. Children were precious, and hurting anyone’s child was unforgivable, but his own child–

He knelt there, not responding to anything Óin said, until the dwarf had left the King and his unconscious beloved alone. Thorin climbed up on the bed then and gathered the light body of his hobbit in his arms, as he hadn’t dared doing since the day she had been wounded.

Thorin held her in his arms all night, imagining how this moment should have been. Billa should have been dressed in the finest cloth and jewels, and there should be a crown on her head. She should be awake to tell her husband that they were expecting a child, and Thorin should be able to lift her in his arms and spin them trough their chambers. They should be able to go and tell their friends and family, and then Thorin would lead her to the throne room and declare that the line of Durin would gain another member, and their people would openly cheer for their Queen and the unborn heir.

It should have been a joyful event. But instead it brought only sorrow to his heart.

And then the King did something he had not even done the night he found out that Billa would mostly likely not wake up. He hugged her close to his chest and wept and cried until his voice started to break and all of his tears had dried up, all the time holding the lifeless form of his Queen.

*-*-*-*

Even so it took a few weeks until all of Erebor had heard the news. The nurses had not kept quiet about what they had observed and people had noticed that the closest friends of the King had started to ask for midwives or those who had lived close to the Shire and knew of the Hobbit ways and how long they took a child to full term; Billa herself could not give the answers after all.

The dwarves were unsure how to react to this; the birth of a child was always a joyful message, it being that of their King even more so. But the woman who was carrying it and the beloved of that King was still ill and had not awoken; reason enough for everyone to grieve with the royal family.

Thorin decided that it was no use to keep Billa from them, and he allowed Balin to inform his people of the rough events. Nobody minded that the King was hardly showing himself in public apart from official occasions after that.

He spent the following months sitting on the bed, with Billa in his arms and praying that she would wake up and that his child would be alive and healthy. He was sure that he would not be able to bear it if they died. And this possibility became even more likely now, as the birth of a half-dwarven child would have been dangerous for Billa even if she were awake. Thorin didn’t dare to think of it.

Days passed, then months, and nobody risked to disturbe the King more than necessary. The snow melted from the mountains and the spring had the first flowers return to the mountainsides. New mines were opened and new families arrived to live in the halls of Erebor. Yet all Thorin could think about was how much Billa would have loved to see the spring herself.

Soon the swell of her stomach became more apparent and sometimes one could feel the baby kicking. All of their friends had started visiting more often, occasions on which Thorin would reluctantly release his Billa for the others to be able to see her and hold her hand.

They seemed fairly optimistic about the whole thing now. Bofur would talk to the unborn child and promise that he’d built it the prettiest toys of the entire Kingdom, Dori would talk of how he would help Billa as he still remembered how to deal with little children from the time he had raised his youngest brother. Fíli and Kíli were the happiest about it, always trying to feel their small cousin kicking them and laughing when they felt the faint stirring. It made Thorin want to cry.

*-*-*-*

Thorin had fallen asleep the day it happened, sitting by the bed and head resting by Billa’s side, her hand in his, as always. At first he had not even realized that anything was wrong, he had stared at his beloved, eyes dull from fatigue and his grief. The midwives that had taken on caring for the hobbit paid him no mind. They knew that their King refused to leave the side of the woman who might as well be dead, and they accepted it as long as he did not hinder them in their work.

He did not notice that they started watching Billa with worried eyes, or that they started feeling up her belly more than usual. It was when the hobbit’s still hand twitched slightly that Thorin finally sat up and stared at her in wonder.

Billa’s previously relaxed face had distorted into a painful grimace and her back slightly arched up from the bed. He called her name but she did not respond and he could only watch on helplessly as she was so obviously on pain. Her hand clutched at his, but it was the only sign of consciousness she was showing.

Thorin could not understand what was going on, or maybe he did not want to understand. The women around him hurried in and out, calling for someone to fetch Óin and more experienced healers; but how could that be? It couldn’t have been more than nine months that had passed since Billa became pregnant, and dwarves carried their child for a full year. It was too soon, the child would not survive, and neither might Billa for that matter.

But he heard what the people around him were saying, and they were sure that Billa was suffering through labour, and possibly had for quite a while now. She would be giving birth in the next few hours.

Hands pulled at Thorin’s coat and someone was pleading him to leave and let the healers do their work. It was the sensible thing to do, of course, but the King could not tear himself away from his love. They pushed him away from the bed and he barely resisted, staring at the trembling figure of his Hobbit and the blood on the sheets between her legs.

Billa’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, tears streaming over her cheeks as she cried out in pain. She turned her head, confused and terrified and her eyes darted around, unable to focus, blind to the world. For a moment it seemed as if she was looking directly at Thorin and seeing him, and his heart made a leap. But then she screwed them shut again, crying hard and reaching for something to hold on to and the dwarves holding Thorin finally managed to pull him away.

He roared in fury, trying to return to the chamber, kicking and punching at whoever tried to get in the way, but the arms around his chest squeezed hard, until he gasped for air and went limb with exhaustion. He was dragged away from the chamber into one of the drawing rooms of the royal wing and pushed into a chair.

As Thorin looked up, he saw Dwalin leaning over him, a bruise already forming on his cheek where he had been punched by Thorin. He watched his old friend carefully, ready to grab the King to prevent him from running back. Thorin just took a shuddering breath and shook his head slightly, indicating that he would remain where he was; there was nothing he could do after all. They sat in silence, and listened to the screams and cries that carried through the thick stonewalls and Thorin buried his face in his hands.

Even with how little he knew about births, he was sure that the general panic and the blood were a bad sign for his Billa. Even if the child survived, it would most likely cost her life. And she had just woken up for the pain and death. That thought tormented him and he wished that there was a power in the world that would turn back the clock and enable him to prevent all of this from happening. Even if it would cost him his Kingdom and his peace, it would be worth it.

It felt like days later when the screams died away, and were replaced by the soft wailing of a child. Thorin did not move, even though he knew that Dwalin sat up straighter and was curious about what had happened. The King did not move even as he heard steps running up and down the corridor, too afraid of what they might tell him.

Soon after the door opened and Balin and Óin entered cautious of approaching the king. The older dwarf took a deep breath and bowed slightly.

“It is done my King.”

His tone was neutral and Thorin looked up, bleary eyed but he did not ask, afraid of his voice betraying him.

“The child is alive and it healthy…” Óin continued and glanced over to Balin. Thorin frowned.

“And what of Billa?” he croaked.

“She–”

“Speak now!”

“She had awoken for a while, but we are not sure whether she had truly regained consciousness. And now she has drifted off again. And she…” Balin gave Thorin a compassionate look. “We think that her condition has worsened.”

Thorin stared at them, hoping that he misheard, hoping that is was a mistake and that they would call him to finally meet his dear Billa again. They did not say anything however, and Thorin finally managed to rise from his chair and limp over to the door. They did not stop him nor did they offer a hand to help him walk the short distance.

The king was walking slowly, and they could see that he was a broken man in that moment. Thorin finally reached the chamber, and hesitated at the doorway. Someone had changed the blankets again, and Billa was lying covered up by them. Her skin was now nearly as pale as the sheets and even at a distance he could see how sick she was. Before she had merely looked as if she was asleep, but now her lips were chapped and a sheen of sweat on her face made her look like she was dying. Thorin stumbled over to the bed speechlessly, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Many months of guarding her bedside had not prepared him for seeing her like that, for actually seeing a dying woman.

He brushed some strands of hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her brow. Then he stepped back and rushed out of the room, unable to stand the sight any longer.

Nobody stopped the King on his way to his own chambers, which he had hardly seen these last few weeks. He sat down at the edge of his bed and stared at the floor. He did not cry or mourn his beautiful sweet Hobbit, just tried to understand what had happened. He could not think, his head was empty, just as his heart, as he could not even feel a thing.

Hours must had passed until the doors creaked and soft steps came closer.

“Leave,” Thorin growled, not wanting to deal with anyone right now.

“Now, now, is this a way to great an old friend?”

Thorin’s head snapped up and he saw Gandalf standing before him, the tip of his hat barely brushing the ceiling. The wizard looked down at him, with an expression he could not place, and he had no patience for that.

“No it is not, but it’s also usual to leave someone alone when he is grieving,” he replied, not wanting to make an effort to be polite for the tall man.

“And why are you grieving, there is no occasion for it after all.”

Thorin was ready to hit the wizard, or have him thrown out of the mountain.

“Haven’t you heard? Someone has died, or will very soon, I am sure that everyone is talking of it already. So I have enough reasons for it. Now leave!” his voice rose until he was nearly shouting.

Gandalf opened his mouth to reply, but something moved in his arms and he looked down to cradle it. Thorin was about to turn away again, when the tall wizard leaned down and held out something for the dwarf to take.

“Do not be a fool, Thorin Oakenshield! Billa is not yet dead, and she will very likely wake up again in very little time, what she went through is very exhausting in her condition after all. And she should have you there and not locked away in your rooms like you have done for far too long. You need to be strong for her. And for your child.”

Thorin glanced up in surprise. He had completely neglected to ask for the baby in his grief for his beloved and now he felt guilty for it too. He took the bundle in Gandalf’s arms carefully, brushing away the blankets to take a look.

The baby was so tiny, way too small for even the tiniest of dwarven children, and Thorin was sure that it would fit into his hands easily if the blankets were removed. The face was soft and round, with a tiny button nose and dark brown curls framing the head. It squirmed in his hands and blinked up with sleepy dark blue eyes.

Gandalf chuckled as Thorin could only gape at the little creature in his arms and gently trace its little face with his fingers.

“May I introduce you to your daughter?”

“A girl?” Thorin was nearly rendered speechless by that. Daughters were precious to the dwarves, and now he held his own. “I-is she… is she healthy?” he asked and took note of her smooth skin and the pointy shells of her ears.

“Oh, she is indeed, as healthy as such a child can be. Perhaps a little too small for a dwarf, but she was born much later than a hobbit child would. And she still needs a name, as her mother was not able to choose one yet.”

Thorin watched his daughter, trying to remember anything that would suit such a delicate and small child. He remembered stories of Billa’s family that she had told by the fireside and one came to his mind.

“Beryl,” he finally said. “I believe it is the name of one of her ancestors.”

The girl, Beryl, reached out a small hand to him, aimlessly reaching for something to hold onto, and grabbing her father’s finger. Thorin could feel something in his heart warm up and all the tension of the last months melted from his shoulders as he cradled his daughter in his arms and hummed old lullabies into her ear.

*-*-*-*

When Billa awoke she did not know where she was or what was going on with her body. She blinked up at an unfamiliar ceiling, trying to understand where she might have seen the patterns on the stone before. Her head hurt from the light of the lamps around her and her eyes were unfocused, blurring most of the things she saw.

Her arms and legs trembled and she could only move them with great effort, and it made her feel scared. What was the last thing she remembered…? Hadn’t there been a journey and gold, so much gold? And a battle, oh now she remembered that dreadful battle and the fear and Thorin who had gone mad.

Thorin. She had seen him by her side, alive, he must have survived, she had succeeded, she was sure of it. But the thought of the man she loved brought something else to her mind; there was something she had forgotten, something important.

Her hand brushed over her stomach, her flat and aching stomach and suddenly she remembered. With a startled cry Billa tried to sit up, to scramble out of bed but her body was too weak and all she managed was to entangle her legs in the sheets.

Her stomach was way flatter than it had been when she felt it last, and as she poked at her skin she realized that it could only mean one thing. Her child was gone. Her child had not survived the battle and she had suffered a miscarriage. That was why she was feeling so weak and sick, and why everything inside ached so much.

Tears welled up in Billa’s eyes as she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She wept, not even caring for where she was or who might hear her. She cried until her throat was starting to hurt and breathing became hard, and yet the tears continued to fall as Billa mourned the loss of the child. She had never felt so alone in her life. She could not tell where she was, or how long she had been unconscious, but some time must have passed for her to loose so much weight. Where were her friends, where was Thorin? Did they know where she had ended up? Had they all died after all?

And even if Thorin had survived and knew where she was, how could she face him now in her grief. Their child was gone and she had not even told him of it, not sure whether she hadn’t mistaken the symptoms at first, and then unwilling to give him another thing to worry about. She could not simply go and tell him that he might have been a father.

Billa’s cries ebbed into soft sobs and hiccups, and it was how she was able to hear the soft creak of a door and the ruffling of the sheets. Someone knelt down by her side and the dip of the mattress was followed by strong arms pulling her into an embrace and a familiar hand brushing over her head.

Billa blinked away the tears and tried to focus on who had sat down by her side.

“Th-Thorin?” she managed to say, her tongue refusing to move properly.

“Shh, my love, I am here, everything is fine, you are safe,” he reassured her, and the sound of his voice made Billa break out in tears again. She felt so exhausted and weak, and some selfish part of her was glad that he was there.

“Forgive me, my burglar, you have been through so much and I could not protect you from it. Not even from myself, and I nothing can excuse that.”

Billa sobbed and clutched at his shirt, trying t speak again, but again her voice failed her.

“You have saved us all, my love. All will be well.”

“No, Thorin, there is something… I… I have not told you–“

Thorin pressed a kiss to her forehead and she closed her mouth, shuddering at the comforting gesture and pressing her face into his neck. He released her to lean towards the other end of the bed, and when he returned he pushed Billa back a little to place something in her arms.

Billa stared at the baby for a few moments, trying to understand what it meant, and then her eyes widened in shock. Thorin hugged them close and Billa could feel him smile as he kissed her head over and over again.

“Be calm my love, there really is nothing to worry about. You have returned me my kingdom and my heirloom, but see what beautiful little treasure you have gifted me? My most precious gem, our little Beryl.”

Billa chocked out a laugh that was half sob as she pulled the little child to her chest. It giggled and squirmed a little, reaching up to grab Billa’s hair.

“Beryl… Beryl… My daughter… How. How long have I been asleep?!”

“For more than seven months now, our child was born a few days ago.” Thorin’s face became dark for a moment, and Billa noticed how tired he looked.

“Seven months…” she shuddered and buried her head in her daughter’s soft hair. She couldn’t believe that she was holding their child in her arms; she had not thought that this would ever happen.

“But all is well now. Billa, my queen, my love, our child his healthy and you are alive and by my side again,” Thorin said, his voice trembling. “You will fully recover, even Gandalf said it, and you two will stay here, safe.”

Billa smiled and cradled the baby in her arms, trying to make herself believe what she was seeing with her eyes. Her head was feeling light and lying here, in this soft bed with her daughter and her beloved by her side seemed like a dream, too unreal to actually be happening to her.

But even if it was just a dream, wasn’t it the sweetest she had ever had? The King by her side was calm and his eyes were as clear as they used to be, they were in Erebor, which she had helped reclaim and there was a child in her arms, a child that she had not believed she’d ever have.

“Yes, I believe we will,” she said and smiled up at the King. Thorin let out a relieved breath and returned the smile. He cupped her cheek in his large hand and brushed away her tears. Billa closed her eyes and let him pull her up into a soft kiss. She smiled and let out a sigh as she felt the warmth of his arms and Beryl surrounding her, much better than any dream could ever be. All was well, she thought, and leaned back to just enjoy the presence of her own small family.