#dís of durin

[dyingroses]

Dís, at Thorin and Bilbo's wedding: To my new brother-in-law, I say this: You have released me, this monster is yours now!

[mrkida-art]

The children of Thráin II; Thorin, Frerin and Dís.

[lathalea]

The Shrieking Monster

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ This is a gift for @babe-bombadil as part of the @whiteoliphaunt 2023 exchange. ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ Happy New Year everyone! 🥳

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Dis & little Fili & Kili Rating: G Warnings: family fluff Author's notes: A story set in the Blue Mountains about Thorin trying to be both a ruler and a good uncle at once. Young Fili and Kili are making it a tad difficult in their own cute way. Special thanks to @naryaflame for your linguistic help with a name :) If you prefer, you can read this fic on AO3.

Khuzdul: Thorinuldûm - Thorin’s Halls, the settlement of the refugees from the Lonely Mountain in the Blue Mountains Amad - mother

1. 

It was a perfect morning. Thorin stretched and yawned, settling himself on his favourite chair in the kitchen. The air that whiffed into the dwarven stronghold from the outside felt warm on his cheeks and smelled like spring. As he sipped his morning tea, that strong, aromatic blend Dori bought in Bree, his sister appeared at the threshold. She gave Thorin a bright smile and, seeing her steaming mug on the table, she sat next to him. The lazy silence of the early hours of the day was soon broken by the appearance of two dishevelled pebbles, one with a thatch of golden hair, the other – with his hair as brown as a bear’s fur in winter. After the mandatory morning hugs, Thorin readied breakfast while Dís prepared her sons for the day, humming to herself. Thorin could not stop himself from smiling. His sister was probably already thinking of her visit to the market. She adored going there in the morning, especially on the days when the merchants arrived with new goods – and today was one of those days. Thorin sighed. As much as he wanted her to have a very much needed moment of respite – his sister-sons were quite a handful, to put it mildly – he was painfully aware of what it was going to mean to him. Half a day of having his eyes around his head and his ears pricked up for any unusual noises they may create… or worse – the ominous silence. In the past, there was only a handful of moments when he and Dís realised that the boys went completely silent. It never bode well. 

This day, however, started with the pitter-patter of the boys’ bare feet, chatter and laughter, and the clatter of their bowls as they ate their oatmeal. Dís reminded them to behave while she was gone, and left for the market. Fíli seemed very content about this state of things, knowing well by now that staying with his mother’s brother meant visiting various places in these halls, like forges, or assisting Thorin in other exciting ways. It was different with Kíli – his loud wails of protest at being so cruelly abandoned reverberated against the walls of their home. Thorin imagined they must have followed their mother through the corridors of Thorinuldûm for a long while. Her Little Bear, as Dís called him, was still too young to understand the connection between Mommy leaving, and the sudden appearance of candied rhubarb or his favourite cream toffees.

Distracting Kíli from his misery was not easy, but Thorin managed it by offering to take the boys for a new adventure. Their big blue eyes shone as he told them they would be going to the lower levels of the city together. It was a real treat – Kíli had never been there before and Fíli visited them only a handful of times.

Thorin had a mind to visit the Engineers’ Quarter and show the lads around while discussing some technical issues with one of the water engineers. And so they began their adventure. As they descended down the wide stone stairs Kíli stumbled and yawned, so Thorin decided to carry him the rest of the way. Soon Little Bear began snoring in his arms, and Thorin attempted to ignore the fact that his own tunic was becoming gradually soaked through with his nephew’s saliva. He also started suspecting that the moniker “Little Bear” must have surely come from the fact that Kíli seemed to weigh more and more with every step, like a true bear.

“At least he is not crying,” Thorin muttered to himself, and kept on walking. Thank Mahal for silver linings.

As they arrived at their destination, however, the situation got worse. The Engineers’ Quarter was a crowded place that smelled like tar, coal, and burned leather. Not minding the much larger adult dwarves in their soot-stained clothes who carried – or carted – their wares from one place to another, curious Fíli began rushing between them, oblivious of the chaos he was creating. He took a look at the wheelwright’s workshop here, and then he had to see the toolmaker’s booth there; he then insisted on seeing how parchment was being made, and attempted to find the place where they manufactured those shiny cogwheels. If not for his golden mane, Thorin would have lost his nephew at least a couple of times. Brór, the water engineer he had a meeting with, joined Thorin in the chase for the high-spirited boy. Instead of looking at the water supply pipeline blueprints and trying to fix a problem with water pressure, they ended up unwillingly playing a hide-and-run game to the delight of the onlookers. Seeing your own king running back and forth through the great cavern with one giggling pebble strapped to his chest while chasing after the other one must have been very amusing… for anyone but him, Thorin thought with resignation. His resignation grew even more when he noticed Fíli climbing onto a tall work table… and jumping down onto a heap of coal.

When Thorin finally caught the runaway, they were both out of breath. Although it was rather Fíli who caught his uncle – the boy ran into him and clung to his left leg as if a throng of orcs chased him.

Fíli raised his teary-eyed face to Thorin and sobbed out, “A monster wanted to eat meeee…”

“A monster? Here?” Thorin’s brow furrowed.

It took him a while to reassure Fíli that no monster was going to eat him. In turn, Thorin promised to get rid of the said monster that apparently lurked in a nearby chamber, and shrieked at him. He left his nephews in the care of Brór who tried to look solemn, but his twitching lips betrayed him. Thorin grunted and entered the chamber, carefully looking around, adjusting his eyes to the dark surroundings. And then he saw two glowing points of red. And heard the shrieking.

2.

When Thorin returned to Brór, Kíli was fast asleep once again. Leaving Little Bear in the engineer’s care once again, he took Fíli’s hand and led him to the entrance of the dark chamber. When they opened the door, they both heard the continuous shrieking now. His nephew stopped and refused to walk inside, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

“There are no monsters here, Fíli.” Thorin reassured the boy. “See for yourself.”

“Nnoooo…” muttered Fíli, hiding behind his uncle.

“Do not be afraid,” Thorin added. “Nothing will hurt you here. I promise.”

On the bench by the door stood a lantern. It took him a moment to light it. With the lantern in hand, Thorin crossed the threshold and approached the nearest lantern that hung on the wall, and then another, and another. Soon, the whole chamber was bright as day, each lantern giving off a pleasant yellow glow.

“You can come in now,” Thorin smiled encouragingly.

With his ears covered and his eyes set on the shrieking, wobbling entity in the middle of the chamber, Fíli shook his head.

“This is not a monster.” Thorin stepped towards the huge bulbous shape that made so much noise. He placed his hand on the top of the strange shaking thing and added, “This is a washing barrel.”

Fíli blinked and took a good look at it. The two red glowing points did not look like a pair of evil eyes any longer. Those were two ball-shaped lanterns standing on top of the… thing. That shrieking noise now seemed to sound like a couple of cogwheels that needed a bit of oil, and not like a monster’s screech. And the arm that seemed to reach out to grab him before, turned out to be a cast iron lever.

“A… barrel?” Fíli looked at his uncle and took one uncertain step towards him and the strange contraption.

“Correct. A barrel that washes your clothes,” Thorin explained in an even voice and at the same moment the shrieking stopped. “Look, it has just finished the washing cycle. Let me show you how it works. First, you open this hatch, like so… Watch out for the water! These clothes are clean, they only need to be wrung out and dried.”

As he spoke, Fíli slowly started closing the distance between them, his eyes becoming wider and wider.

“... but if you want to wash your clothes,” Thorin continued, “you need to put them inside, here, and add some soap suds. Then you close the hatch, pour some water here, crank this lever a few times, do this, like so, and wait for the washing barrel to finish its work!”

Thorin kept on talking until Fíli seemed to be completely in awe of this new piece of machinery, his fear completely forgotten. He peppered his uncle with tons of questions: how many cogwheels were there, how many times one should crank the lever, what the barrel was made of… and so on, and so forth. When they left the chamber, there was a big smile on the boy’s lips instead of tears. 

On their way back home Fíli exclaimed, “This was the bestest adventure ever!”

Thorin thought that sometimes being an uncle happened to be quite rewarding. Even if his tunic was still wet from Kíli’s sleepy drooling.

***

His attitude completely changed less than half an hour later, when his nephews disappeared. Both of them. At once.

Stumbling over several painfully angular wooden toys, Thorin searched the boys’ bedroom. Nothing. He even looked under their beds (twice!), but there was no sign of the boys anywhere. They weren't sitting in the common kitchen nor searching for snacks in the pantry. Nor in Dwalin’s rooms where Kíli liked to play hide-and-scare with the big warrior. There were nowhere to be found – not in the rocking chair by the fireplace, nor even in Balin’s study by that large desk where Fíli liked to play so often. Thorin closed his eyes. If he did not find his nephews before Dís returned from the market, his sister would have Thorin’s own head on a spike. The wrath of dwarf-women was ten times fiercer than the one of dwarf-men. In the case of his little sister, the number was much higher, at least a hundred times. And Thorin would do everything he could to avoid being on the receiving end of it.

There was no time to lose. He recruited Dwalin, Óin, and Halkatla, Balin’s wife, to the task of finding the boys, but they returned empty-handed. No one had seen the boys since their early lunch. Then, they were supposed to take a nap, and Thorin remembered their yawning as they closed the door to their bedroom behind him.

And now they were gone. Kidnapped? — No, impossible, Thorin thought. Dwarves cherished their children like the greatest treasures they were, and no one else was allowed into Thorinuldûm. There were no goblins nor other dangers here either. It felt as if the boys magically disappeared in a puff of smoke. Thorin looked around the wide corridor he stood in, but he found no traces of the missing boys.

“Have you checked all of their favourite places?” Halkatla asked, her red-and-silver braids clinking as she turned her head towards Óin.

“Aye, we did,” he nodded. “Not a sign of them.”

“Those wee rascals! I bet they are up to somethin’.” Dwalin said. “They remind me of us. Remember that time, Thorin, when we were around their age or so, and half of Erebor was lookin’ for us all day long?”

“It would be difficult to forget it,” Thorin admitted. “We wanted to avoid another boring lesson with our tutor…”

“...and instead we went to explore the mines! What a shame we lost our way,” Dwalin grinned and nudged him. “It was fun!”

“Aye, fun on an empty belly. If only you had not forgotten our food,” Thorin replied, relieved that his nephews had a proper meal at least.

“If only ye had not forgotten that map ye were supposed to borrow from your father’s desk,” Dwalin chuckled.

Before Thorin could form an adequate riposte, a mousy-haired dwarf approached him.

“M’lord, Master Brór says that the pipeline is fully functional again,” the messenger bowed.

Thorin gave him a nod of thanks. At least he brought a piece of good news. Master Brór was a skilled engineer, and the way he handled Thorin’s own sister-sons…

“Either way,” Dwalin continued, “we had a real adventure on that day, hadn’t we, Thorin?”

A thought appeared in Thorin’s mind. Master Brór. An adventure.

“There was one place where we have not searched yet,” he turned to his companions.

“I am listening,” Halkatla tilted her head, reminding him of a curious raven.

“The Engineers’ Quarters.”

***

Master Brór was more than happy to receive words of thanks from Thorin in person for fixing that pipeline issue once and for all. Despite Thorin’s hopes, he had not seen Fíli or Kíli since they left the Engineers’ Quarters with their uncle earlier that day. Dwalin muttered a curse under his breath.

“Well, that’s it. I’m goin’ to check the workshops,” the warrior said.

“I’ll take the ones on the left, you take the ones on the right,” Halkatla followed him.

“Let’s go,” Dwalin replied, his voice trailing off as he walked away. “And those wee cave bats would better be there or I swear…”

Master Brór addressed Thorin, “I will spread the word as you requested, my lord. Someone must have seen them, I am certain of it. They could not have simply disappeared.”

Thorin agreed with him and began his own search. The rocks could not have swallowed them whole! Magic was out of the question as well, there had to be a logical solution to this! Thoring pulled at his short beard in frustration. Wandering through the area and looking for any signs of his nephews in places they visited earlier that day, he wondered if Óin had any luck. The healer was waiting at their home in case Fíli and Kíli returned there on their own. Perhaps the three of them were already sitting by the fire, with Óin telling the boys countless amusing stories, while Thorin and his companions were checking every nook and cranny on the lower level, going out of their minds with worry. He raised his head, listening to a peculiar sound and trying to figure out its source. It sounded like… shrieking. It was not at all difficult to recall Fíli’s eyes shining with fear, awe, and then curiosity at the sight of the washing barrel.

Without thinking, Thorin turned his steps towards the chamber that housed the “monster” Fíli had been so afraid of not so long ago.

When Thorin arrived at his destination, the door was ajar. Thorin could hear the shrieking very well, but there were other sounds too. Very familiar sounds.

He took a deep breath and shouted, “Dwalin! I found them!”

***

When Thorin stepped inside the chamber, the sounds became even clearer. One of them he identified as uncontrollable giggling, and the other one, slightly muted, sounded like: “Woooo! Woooo! Wooooo! A carousel! Woooo! Faster, Fíli! Woooo!”

Thorin breathed out a sigh of relief only to be struck by a pang of dread a moment later.

Fíli stood by the washing barrel, cranking the lever, grinning from ear to ear, and laughing. Kíli was nowhere to be seen, but his enthusiastic shouts seemed to be coming from inside of the barrel. Inside, not outside. Thorin swallowed; he considered screaming in terror, but something told him that this was most definitely an example of behaviour unworthy of a king. It took him a moment to melt the ball of ice that was forming in his stomach. He closed the distance between him and the barrel in a blink of an eye.

Thank Mahal, the hatch was open. Inside, Kíli sat with his back against a wall of the large metal container inside the machine, surrounded by various articles of laundry, with a happy grin on his face, and a stray sock on top of his head. A wave of relief washed over Thorin.

“Uncle Thorin! Uncle Thorin!” Fíli exclaimed. “We’re playing carousel! Want to jump in?”

Thorin did not.

“It is time to return home, boys,” Thorin simply said, taking Kíli out of the barrel. His clothes were damp and he smelled like those violet flowers Dís liked so much, but other than that, he looked happy, and what’s more important, he was in one piece – just like his older brother.

“But uncle...” Fíli started.

“Your amad will be home soon. Do you not want to see what she bought at the market?”

“A sugar horse? She promised!” The boy recalled his favourite treat.

Holding Kíli firmly against his chest with one arm, Thorin held out his hand to Fíli.

“Let us go and see,” he said with a smile as his nephew’s tiny hand grabbed his.

There would yet be time for scolding and for a conversation about not sneaking out anywhere alone, but for now, the only thing that Thorin wanted was to safely bring his little rascals home.

He only hoped they would manage to reach their halls before Dís returned.

***

When Dís crossed the threshold of their home later in the afternoon, she was greeted by complete silence. Her sons were nowhere to be seen, which was very suspicious. They were always the first ones to run to her and see what she brought them this time. She expected Thorin to welcome her and help her unpack her basket, as usual — but he was not there either. Was this that ominous silence she dreaded so much whenever her boys were executing another of their silly mischiefs? Not really. It seemed as if their home was empty… until she heard a familiar sound coming from a nearby chamber. Dís put the basket on the floor and tiptoed deeper into their halls.

The picture that unfolded before her eyes was the last thing she had expected. Her brother was half sitting, half lying on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the backrest, his eyes closed. Fíli was cuddled up to his uncle’s side, his hair tousled, making her think of a skein of golden yarn. Kíli lay on the opposite side of his uncle, his head resting on Thorin’s lap and turned towards her. He had his thumb in his mouth. Dís could clearly see the darker stain of drool on her brother’s trousers and stifled a giggle. 

All three of them were asleep, of course. And all three of them were snoring in perfect unison. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine that she had a working sawmill in front of her.

This scene was too adorable for Dís to interrupt it, so she decided that she would let her three boys sleep a little longer. There was no harm in a little nap, after all. Besides, she was tired, and there was still some space left on the sofa…As she drifted off to sleep beside them, her last conscious thought was: “Why do all three of them smell like my lavender laundry soap?”

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[novanillacake]

Dís serving cunt, as she should🔥

[consultingpacha]

Dís as she appears at the Roots for a Mountain fic in one of her fancy attires 💅🏽✨

Yet another sad case of If hot, why not in the movies? Tsk tsk. Cowards. Give us some decently bearded dwarrowdams *shakes fist to amazon and PJ*

[merry-harlowe]

Lady Dís, daughter of Thráin son of Thrór, last of her line.

[milesasinmorales]

Me when I think about how Thorin was the eldest of three siblings (Dís and Frerin) one of which died horrifically at a young age (Frerin, age 42). About how Thror was also the eldest of three siblings (Frór and Grór) one of which who also died horrifically at a young (Frór, age 37). About how they both had to step up to be king when they were still so young because their fathers died in battle. About how both of them lost their homes to dragons. About how the ransacking of Ered Mithrin was probably just so much worse than the ransacking of Erebor because it lasted for 20 years. Thinking about how Ered Mithrin was attacked by the cold drakes so instead of dying by dragonfire all those dwarves died by tooth and claw. About how Thrór (and Grór) both had to watch their brother and father be barbarically torn apart. About how Thrór then had to see his greatest accomplishment, Erebor, fall to dragonfire. About how Thrór and Thorin were both SO MUCH MORE than the gold sickness…

[vampiratedrawing]

Lady Dís - Ered Luin era

There she is !! Dís, aka the love of my life !!This took me a frankly embarassing amount of time to complete, and it still isn’t exactly how I would want it. The fur made me want to fling myself from a window, but I endured, because I can’t imagine a Durin without a good heavy fur coat.

[sylveongender]

love to headcanon dís as being taller than thorin, she may be the baby but, i think she deserves to be the tall one

[immacaria]

Last Line Tag

I'm currently on a deadline to finish a fic and I'm working on this bitch almost every single second that college allows me to, that's why I have to say that I literally wrote this just NOW: As always, thank you so much for the tag, @tj-dragonblade, I love doing these things!!

  He was twenty-five at the time, trying to conceal how everything was breaking on the inside. His mother’s passing had been six years prior, but his father was still mourning her, curling on himself in a way nobody could reach him, not even his own children. The coffee shop was officially on his name at the time, after Grandmother Munin died and left everything split between Dís, Frerín and him because that was Grandmother Munin for you, always one step ahead of everyone.    Things were reaching a breaking point for him when that wall, which had always been so blank and simple, caught his attention.    It was night and Thorin had taken Dís and Frerín to the Arkenstone in an attempt to distract them from yet another of Thráin’s episodes. He was making [...]

[dyingroses]

Thorin: *holding baby Kili* I do hope the labor wasn't too hard

Dís: I think I called the midwife a "cunt"

Thorin: *laughs* *kisses Dís on the forehead*

[mrkida-art]

Sketches of Dís from March that I never uploaded (oops) .

[deadthingposting]

Young lady Dìs and frerin before smaug

My favorite headcanon is that both of Thorin's younger siblings had better beards and hair than him

[rynneer]

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction.

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter Ten: Dear Theodosia

For the ultimate experience, please imagine Dís with an Irish accent.

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

–Dear Theodosia, Leslie Odom Jr. and Lin Manuel-Miranda

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

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

“I’m so sorry Dís, I didn’t mean to wake anyone,” you groan.

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

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

“And where’s her adad on this fine, fine evening?“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you sigh. “Dís. I’m still in my early twenties.”

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

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

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

You blink up at the dwarf.

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

“Thank you, Dís,” you whisper.

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

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

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

“Sounds like a wise woman.”

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

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

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

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

“I hope she’s tall enough,” you murmur. “I got made fun of for being so short.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat tightens. “Fíli never told me.”

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

“But wouldn’t you be next in line for the throne?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amad,” he says quietly. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

[milesasinmorales]

Lady Dís on her throne

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