The dwarves of Erebor had been given a small space in the Blue Mountains which they called their 'halls'. Compared to Erebor, they were nothing, nowhere near the grandeur and beauty of that mountain city, but it was a home, a place to live. It was more than anyone else had given them. As the two hundred that remained of the two thousand dwarves that had set out from Ered Luin finally returned, they received no welcoming cheers, no supporting crowds lined the streets.

The dwarves of Erebor trooped back to their lodgings in exile, forgotten, wearied and wounded, their host much smaller than when they set out.

No one noticed them, no one seemed to even acknowledge them, until one dwarf, one of the few remaining warriors of the King's Guard of Erebor, Arien realised, hurtled from the gates to their halls and skidded to a stop in front of Thorin.

"Thorin," he gasped. "I've been sent to find you."

Thorin took a step forward, eyes wide in dread of what was coming.

"It's Dis," the dwarf panted. "She's gone into labour, and it's not going well."

"What?" Thorin growled. "Where is she?"

"This way," the dwarf said.

Thorin moved, hurrying after him, but not without giving Arien a glance that told her to come. A glance that said

'I need you by my side.'

So she followed them, not only for Thorin, but for Dis. For her friend.

She caught up with them, and as she hurried beside him Arien could feel the tension and fear radiating off Thorin. Her heart constricted at the thought of how he cared so much for his family, his friends, at the thought of how much he had lost, who he had lost.

She knew he could not lose anyone else.

They passed through a stone archway.

Straight into Dis's chambers.

The Princess was on her back, chest heaving, hands fisted, face flushed slightly from the pain and exhaustion. She was mostly alone, save for the only surviving medic from the healers of Erebor, Oin, who could not do much for her but stood beside her nonetheless.

"Dis," Thorin breathed.

He crossed the room and knelt beside his sister's bed, taking her hand in his.

"Are you all right?" he asked her gently.

"Not particularly," she replied, with an attempt at her usual humour. Suddenly she let out a scream of pain and arced slightly off the bed. Thorin squeezed her hand tightly as she groaned.

"I'm glad you're here," she got out. "I was afraid... afraid you were dead."

"Shhh," he murmured gently.

"Where is Farin?" Dis's voice caught on her husband's name as another contraction seized her.

Thorin's throat bobbed as he bit his lip in his own grief.

"He... can't be here."

"No," the Princess whispered. "Please, no."

"I'm sorry," Thorin's voice broke. "He was not meant to die."

Tears streaked down Dis's face. "He was supposed to see his child. Both of them. No baby should be born without a father."

"I know," Thorin bowed his head. "There was so much he was supposed to do. To be."

Pain racked Dis's body again, and her cries of pain were mingled with her sobs. But she turned her face to bury it in her pillow. Thorin put an arm around her, the only comfort he could offer.

"I know this changes nothing, and I know it is no consolation," he said quietly. "But for what it is worth, I believe he was happy. With you, with your son, his child. I do not think if he had the choice he would change anything."

As he said this Thorin turned to look at Arien, his eyes glistening in the candlelight. Arien swallowed as she met his gaze, as she tried to convey in one look that she felt the same way, that given the choice she would not change anything either.

But as time progressed, as the evening wore on into nighttime, the sun's last rays bleeding into the pale sky, Dis's condition deteriorated. Soon there were no rest periods between contractions, no time to recover, and each one seemed more and more painful. But Thorin stayed beside his sister through it all, holding her hand and never once leaving her side.

Soon Arien stepped toward Oin, who stood beside the bed unable to do anything for Dis until the baby actually started coming out, and said quietly

"Why is it taking so long? I've seen elvish labours, and it's never taken as long as this, or been this painful."

The dwarf turned to her, seemingly slightly relieved to have something to do.

"Dwarvish labours are far longer than normal ones," he said. "Dis started yesterday afternoon. They're also much more painful."

Arien turned to watch as Thorin gripped his sister's hand, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement in his deep rumbling voice.

On and on it went, and though Arien began to feel tired she knew it was nothing compared to the exhaustion Dis must be feeling. Knew she was glad that if she ever had to do this, she was not a dwarf so would not have to go through anything like this pain.

After what felt like hours, although it couldn't have been that long because the moon hadn't yet fully risen, Arien stepped across and put a hand on Thorin's shoulder, supporting him, because she knew he was trying to work out how to tell Dis that not only was her husband dead, but also their grandfather and brother, and their father gone. He leaned into her touch. That was when Oin suddenly said

"Everyone move away, the baby's coming."

Arien stepped back in slight surprise, but Thorin stayed beside his sister.

"And you," snapped Oin. "I need some space."

She wondered if only a healer would dare order Thorin around, but he stepped away without complaining, coming to stand by her side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

Time wore on. Dis struggled, and sometimes Arien had to hide her head in Thorin's broad chest so she couldn't see the amount of pain the Princess was going through. Even as she watched, Arien couldn't help thinking that when she'd first met Thorin the throne of Erebor had had four adult heirs, five if you included Farin. Now there was only one. Dis was the only adult heir to the throne, because Thorin was king now.

But even as she was thinking this, Dis screamed. Screamed, and... stopped.

Went quiet. Panting still, but... it was over. Oin held up the tiniest, most beautiful baby she'd ever seen. Not that she'd seen many babies. He wriggled and squirmed, and let out the cutest little whine. Dis raised her head weakly.

"I want to see him," she panted.

"You will," Oin told her as the baby let out a louder, more insistent noise. "But we need to wait for the afterbirth. Normally the father would hold him, but..."

"Thorin," Dis said. "Thorin should take him."

Oin turned to the king, who stepped forward and took the baby in his arms with such tenderness that Arien's heart cracked. He sat on the edge of Dis's bed, cradling the boy in his arms, so that his sister could see her child. A couple more contractions and then... The afterbirth was out and it was over. Finally over. Dis reached for her son and Thorin carefully passed him to her. She smiled down at her child.

"He's beautiful," she whispered.

Thorin nodded quietly. But... He was looking at Arien with a kind of longing. He was thinking of the time when that would be her on the bed, when that would be his child in the arms of the woman he loved. And so was she, though she was also thinking about how much she wanted to kiss him right now.

"What should we name him?" Dis asked quietly.

A vision flashed in Arien's head, of a young raven-haired boy she used to be friends with when she was young. When... when her parents were alive. And his name...

"Kili," she said quietly. "You should name him Kili. It works with Fili anyway," she added with a smile.

"Fili and Kili," said Dis, echoing her expression. "The heirs of Durin. It's strange to think," she added, with a glance at her brother. "That when you become king they will be your heirs, Thorin."

Thorin looked away, and Arien could see him steeling himself.

"I..." He swallowed. "The House of Durin needed some good news, Dis."

The Princess stilled. "Why?" she whispered, as if half of her did not want to know the answer.

"We have suffered more loss in the battle than you know of." Arien could see Thorin struggling to remain calm, to remain strong for his sister. "Especially our family."

"Thorin," Dis whispered, dread in her eyes. "Who else? Who else have we lost?"

Thorin finally met her gaze, taking a deep breath. His blue eyes were lined with silver, his throat bobbing. Arien crossed the room in two strides and gripped his hand tightly.

"Thror is dead," he got out. "He was beheaded by Azog the Defiler, the most vile of all the race of the orcs. And..." Thorin bowed his head, and Arien could see he was struggling to hold back tears. "Frerin is dead, I do not know how."

Dis was staring at him in horror. Horror and grief and despair.

"Thorin," she whispered. "Where is Thrain? Where is our father?"

"I... I do not know."

Arien could see how much it cost him to say that.

"Many dwarves saw him go down, I saw him go down, knocked to the ground by Azog. But he is not dead. They all say he is, but he is not."

Dis's voice was thick with tears as she said

"How do you know that?"

"Because I have searched for him, Dis. I have searched every body. Our father was not amongst the dead."

"Thorin..." Dis said quietly.

"No," he stopped her. "Please believe me. I would not have searched every body if I did not believe he was alive."

Dis shook her head, tears falling from her cheeks onto the pillow.

"I believe you, Thorin," she whispered. "But he's gone, and that's all there is to it. I just can't believe we've lost them. All of them."

"I know," he murmured, his deep voice heavy with his own grief. "I know."

He pulled her and the newly named Kili to him as his own tears were finally released, and brother and sister held each other as they cried, releasing tears that had long been held back. Part of Arien felt like an intruder on the family grief, and she stepped back, releasing his hand. But he turned and pulled her towards him, letting go of Dis for a moment to slide a hand behind her neck, the other around her waist.

"Thorin," she whispered.

But he kissed her tenderly, a kiss that she returned with a deep passion. Arien wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his dark hair. His tongue licked her lips, demanding an entrance. A small moan escaped her as she opened for him, his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her to him, and...

"That's disgusting," Dis said, angling Kili away from them with a flash of her usual humour. "Stop it, both of you."

"Sorry," Arien said, not moving from his lap. "I'm just glad he's alive."

Thorin smiled at her, at them all.

"Yes, I am alive. We all are. And it's going to remain that way."

He lowered his head, nuzzling her hair, breathing in her scent.

"Always," he murmured.