In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

And that was all well and good for hobbits, but dwarves needed something bigger than a mere hole in the ground, and elves, well – elves needed trees and glens and towering waterfalls cascading into crystal pools. No, a hole in the ground was simply not sufficient.

That was why, upon their betrothal, Kili had built for Tauriel a house on the edge of Long Lake, near where the waters of the River Running passed out of sight of the Lonely Mountain and Lake-town and disappeared for a brief time into the thick cover of Mirkwood. It was important, he felt, that he remain close to Erebor and she remain close to the Greenwood. He could not, would not part his pretty Silvan elf maid from her woodland home. "Durin's Folk know a little something about losing their homeland," he'd told her when she tried to protest. "I would not put ye through that, love, no matter the hardship."

It had taken him a half a year to make it livable, another half year to make it comfortable. But it was not until she stepped through the front door on that fine midsummer's afternoon - eyes bright and cheeks pink from the previous day's wedding celebrations in Erebor - and sank down to her knees to kiss thank yous against his lips that he knew it was home.

By nature dwarves lived in mountain caverns hollowed out of the living rock with chisels and hammers and the sweat of their brow. In contrast, elves flitted about like fairy dust in their treehouses and airy palaces that seemed as much a part of the forest as the trees.

So Kili had used the terrain to his advantage. The rocky outcrop on which he'd built their home was protected on two sides by steep, boulder-strewn slopes and on a third side by a sheer drop that led down to the roiling river below. The fourth side was a gentler, grassy slope strewn with wildflowers. At one time it had been strewn with boulders, too, like its steeper cousins. Kili – with the help of some of his burlier kinfolk – had uprooted them and moved them higher up the hill. Then, with the craftiness of dwarfs, he had fitted them neatly together like pieces of a puzzle to form the foundation and bones of the house.

It would have to be a big house, airy and bright, because neither he nor Tauriel craved the stuffy confines of a middling cabin. And besides, Kili intended to see it filled to bursting with wee little dwarflings – or elfllings, he imagined, depending on the quality of their beard – and little ones needed plenty of space to run about and play and get into great gobs of trouble. With that in mind the building's footprint was expansive from the start and only got more impressive as he went on.

The walls themselves were made of driftwood, scavenged from the shores of the River Running, and fallen timber from around the edges of Mirkwood. He was determined that their home should blend with its surroundings, as if some playful force of nature had decided to piece together a house from odds and ends scattered across the landscape of Rhovanion. He wanted his lady of summer starlight to sleep in a home that smelled of forest and fresh water and springtime grasses. He wanted to sleep among those scents, too, because they reminded him so vividly of her.

He made a little stone path from the front door to a tiny garden on the leeward side of the house, and lined the way with hardy white trillium. They would shine like starlight in the early morning dew.

He painted the door a deep forest green and burnished the brass latch till it shone like gold.

He bought the biggest, softest bed the craftsmen of Lake-town could provide and a mountain of fresh linens.

And in a room adjoining the bedroom he fitted a toy box filled with dwarf-made toys and hung a mobile of the sun, moon and stars at the window.

"You have built me a palace fit for a queen, my beautiful, blessed dwarf prince," Tauriel whispered into his hair their first night at home, wrapped around one another like the marriage braids twined in their hair.

"'Stradition," he explained, kissing her breastbone as she stroked his back. "For a wedding gift, the husband builds his wife a nice big home that'll keep her safe and warm. IKhuzd tada bijebî âysîthi mud oshmâkhî dhi zurkur ughvashâhu/I*: 'A dwarf that chooses to take a wife must guard her as his greatest treasure.' That's what all the greybeards say." He smiled into her skin. "Usually he hollows it outta the side of a mountain, but my pretty she-elf deserves a home under the sky. A nice big house with plenty o' windows, so the sun can kiss her good morning after her husband's kissed her awake."

Tauriel giggled and curled a lock of his hair around her thumb. The silver and sapphire marriage ring around her index finger caught the light of the fire. "And what is the customary gift the dwarf wife gives to her husband, if his gift to her is such a fine home?"

Kili gave her a dazzling smile. "A passel o' little dwarflings to fill it up, o' course."

"Ah yes, of course." Her answering smile was just as bright. "I will endeavor to give you the finest gift a new bride ever gave her new husband, my love." Her lips twitched in a sly smile. "And with such a fine, big bed, and such a fine, strong husband, I feel sure it should not take long to accomplish."

"Aye," Kili purred, letting her roll him onto his back, her curtain of hair cascading around them like a fall of autumn leaves. "But practice makes perfect, or so they s-"

They didn't speak much more that night.

And within a year there was a cradle in the nursery, waiting to be filled.

Niphredil was born on a frigid night in midwinter. The sky outside the little home on the hill was a midnight blanket dusted with ice white stars and a moon that hung low over Mirkwood, as though waiting to meet Arda's newest resident.

The midwife came from Thranduil's court, and she disappeared with Tauriel into the bedroom and closed the sturdy oak door in Kili's face. There was almost no sound from the other side, save the occasional sharp intake of breath, rustle of cloth and the musical sound of water being poured into silver bowls. It all seemed very arcane and mysterious to the dwarf, and he half wished Fili were with him to help pass the time. But the prince was in Erebor, and now that he thought of it that was probably for the best. Kili didn't know if he could take his brother's teasing on a night like this.

What were they doing in there?

The moon had long since sunk below the horizon when the piercing cry of a newborn babe came from the bedroom. Kili looked up from his contemplation of the smoldering embers in the fireplace and jumped to his feet as the midwife opened the sturdy oak door. "You have a daughter, Master Dwarf," was all she said, with a serene bow.

Kili's heart sang.

Scrambling past the slender elf healer he stopped in his tracks at the foot of the bed and stared. Tauriel was laying back against the pillows, her face flushed and eyes tired, rich russet hair spread around her head in a tawny halo. And there, cradled against her breast, was the smallest bundle of white blanket and baby pink Kili had ever seen.

Tauriel smiled dreamily at him. "She will have your eyes," she murmured.

His feet moved without any direction from his brain, carrying him to the bedside so he could sit and take his new daughter into his arms. The little round face and tiny hands; the way her mouth stretched open in a yawn; it was love at first sight.

"Ah, little one," he whispered, throat tight with emotion. "Hello. I'm yer Da. I know I'm not as pretty as yer mother there, but ye'll get used ta the face, I'm sure. Yer Ma has." Tauriel smiled and touched his knee and he chuckled. "I feel like we've waited so long ta meet ye, and now yer here and I don't know what ta say. But yer beautiful, little one. So beautiful. Yer Ma says yer gonna have my eyes, but the rest of ye will be yer mother, I can tell. Sweet little one. Hello."

They named her after the snowdrop; new life breaking through the crust of winter.

Girion was born two years later, and the twins Nanna and Dofri after that. They grew faster than typical dwarf babes, but much slower than the average elf. Kili was glad they were growing more like dwarves than elves; it gave him and Tauriel more time to watch them be children and play.

Of them all, Niphredil the eldest was the most like her mother, both in bearing and appearance. Of the four she clearly had the greatest dose of elf blood. She doted on her younger siblings, particularly little Dofri, who was a shy little boy with big brown eyes and shaggy black hair and a smattering of freckles across his button nose. Dofri shadowed his elder sister everywhere she went, listening attentively as she explained to him what different plants were used for and how to help them grow.

Girion took his role as the older brother very seriously. Sometimes Kili wondered how such a serious child could be his. "He's got your hair and eyes and my chin, love, but he's got Thorin's soul," he remarked to Tauriel one day as they watched their second child meticulously scrubbing the mud and grass stains from his little sister's hands and knees.

"Then he is blessed indeed," Tauriel murmured, squeezing his hand.

Nanna was as different from her twin as day from night; light where he was dark, bold where he was cautious. Had she not been born within minutes of Dofri Kili would have been convinced they were not twins at all. She was a whirlwind of energy, and spent most of her time trying to scare her parents out of their wits.

"Where was she this time?" Kili asked one evening at supper as Tauriel carried the fussy one year old to the table and slipped her into a seat beside her brother.

"In the stable rafters," Tauriel responded, serene as ever as she accepted the dish of warm potato soup he passed her. "She dotes on that pony."

"Simmanim!" Nanna crowed, waving her spoon around excitedly and nearly clocking Dofri in the face.

"Eat your soup, Nanna. You can say goodnight to Cinnamon before bed."

She cheerfully settled down to eat her dinner, giving her twin brother the biggest piece of carrot from her soup bowl because it was his favorite.

It had become necessary to expand the little stable behind the house when four children had proven too difficult to ride around on just two horses. Kili had fashioned a simple cart with a canvas tarp, and they'd bought a sturdy cart horse to pull it. Cinnamon was smaller and stockier than Tauriel's horse and only slightly larger than Kili's pony. "But small and stocky never hurt me any," Kili grinned as he watched the children fawn over the newest member of the family. "And she won't be hurtin' fer attention."

Once a month the little family would pile into the cart, Kili or Tauriel at the reins as the other rode along beside, and set off for Erebor. The trip usually took the better part of a day, and it was often twilight by the time they reached the Lonely Mountain to find the crown prince waiting for them.

"Uncle, uncle!" Fili was Nanna's favorite person in the world (besides her mother, father and siblings, of course), and she bounced excitedly in her seat until her parents or older sister lifted her down to the ground so she could bolt into her uncle's embrace.

"Nanna, my little turtledove!" Fili swept her up into his arms. This close together the family resemblance between the little girl and the dwarf prince was unmistakable. "Have you been scaring the pants off yer Da like I told ye to?"

"Oh, so I've got you ta blame fer this little squirrel gettin' inta all sortsa places she shouldn't," Kili grinned, giving his brother a hug and kissing his daughter's cheek.

"'Sright," Fili beamed. "We're a team, Nanna and me. Isn't that right, li'l Nan?"

"Mm-hmm!" Nanna nodded firmly, her blond curls bouncing around her face.

Kili chuckled. "I shoulda known."

"Alanjuz ghelekh, your highness," Tauriel stepped up to them and bowed serenely, steadying Dofri on her hip.

"Pah, Tauriel, I've told ye enough times ye don' need to be acting so formal around me," Fili chided, his eyes warm. "Anyone who's not gotten past my brother marryin' a she-elf at this point 'snever goin' ta be satisfied. Yer my sister, and these little ones are my kin same as Kili. And what do kin get when they come to Erebor?"

"CANDY!" all four children whooped excitedly, though Dofri's voice was muffled by his mother's hair.

"After dinner," Tauriel reminded them, her lips twitching with a smile.

"Awww." Fili's face was as disappointed as the children's.

"Now you lot mind yer Ma, y'hear?" Kili said. "And that goes fer you, too, Fili. Candy after dinner. It wouldn't be good ta have these little brats bouncin' off the walls around Uncle, now would it?"

"Fine, fine," Fili agreed. "When did ye become such an old woman, Kili? No offense meant, Tauriel."

"None taken," she assured him as she set Dofri on his feet and the little boy tucked his hand into Niphredil's. "Go along now and have fun. Remember to wash up before dinner, and braid your hair properly to meet the King Under the Mountain."

The children all nodded before trotting along beside Fili through the mighty gates of Erebor. It was always a surreal sight: the domestic family scene juxtaposed against a landscape that had, not so very long ago, been the site of bloodshed, fire, and death.

"We've got a fine family," Kili remarked, lacing his hand with Tauriel's as they followed Fili and the children at a more sedate pace.

"We do," the elf agreed.

"And I've the prettiest wife in all of Arda."

It didn't matter how many times he said it; those words always made her blush. "And I've the handsomest husband."

"Even more handsome than that blond-haired, blue-eyed slip of an elf prince?"

"Yes, my love. Much more handsome than Legolas."

"It's the beard." Kili stroked his chin proudly. Tauriel's laughter echoed like silver bells against the craggy slopes of the Lonely Mountain, and the memories of smoke and blood were left behind in the night.

"It is good to be home, my love," Tauriel remarked one night, after returning from the midsummer celebrations in Dale. Dofri was asleep in her lap in front of the fire, and Girion had carried a sleeping Nanna to bed as soon as they got home, while Niphredil volunteered to see to the horses. "It is fine to travel and see life renewed in this once beaten countryside, but I am always glad to come home. Do you not agree?"

He sat behind her and let her lean against him, her cheek resting atop his head and his chin on her shoulder. "Aye," he sighed, content in a way his younger self could never have imagined. He smiled as Dofri wiggled in his sleep and Tauriel smoothed the boy's hair.

"The Men in Lake-town say that home is where the heart is."

"D'ye believe that?" Mirkwood was not so very far away, after all, and she'd spent six hundred years there compared to the scarce eight years she'd spent with him.

"Yes." She raised her head enough to smile at him. "Our children are here. You, my love, are here." She kissed him softly. "This home is very much where my heart resides."

Kili caught her lips again before she could pull away. "My soft-hearted, sun-kissed elf."

Tauriel lifted her hand from their son's hair to touch Kili's cheek. "And you, my dark-eyed dwarf husband?" she murmured fondly. "We live within sight of the Lonely Mountain. Do you not sometimes wish we dwelt there, with your kin?"

He didn't answer right away, lost for a time in her shifting summer eyes. As much as Kili enjoyed their visits to Erebor – or Mirkwood, or Dale, or wherever their travels took them – it Iwas/I always a relief to return home. He'd grown up in the Blue Mountains, and as a youth that had been his home. But he'd spent his whole life dreaming of a return to the land of his forefathers, to the echoing halls and golden hoards of Erebor. That, he'd been convinced, was his Itrue/i home; the place that lived in the heart of all Durin's folk.

But all it had taken was one elf maid with autumn hair and eyes like starshine to make him leave it all behind, trading coffers filled with gold for a house full of laughter on a hill at the edge of the wild.

Indeed, it wasn't the building that was home, nor the hill upon which it was built, nor the river that flowed below it, nor even the acres of grassland, forest and foothills that spread out around it on all sides. Home was wherever his Tauriel could be found: reading by the light of the hearth, or gliding through the groves of Mirkwood, or reflected in the merry faces of their children.

"My darling?" Kili shook himself from his quiet reverie to find Tauriel smiling at him, puzzled. "Where did your thoughts travel, my sweet prince?"

He stroked his fingers over her cheek, pale as milk against his darker flesh. Dofri's quiet breathing blended with the crackle of the fire, and in the background he could hear Niphredil laughing as she bid the horses good night. Closer, Girion's gentle voice sang a hushed lullaby to Nanna in the nursery, coaxing his younger sister back to sleep.

"To where my heart dwells, my love," Kili murmured in answer. "Home."

"And was I there, in the home of your heart?" She nuzzled him fondly.

"Always, my Tauriel," he whispered. "Always."

Outside, the trillium shimmered in the moonlight like stars.

THE END

* Khuzdul c/o The Dwarrow Scholar at My Middle Earth

* Alanjuz ghelekh = "Good evening" in Khuzdul