A/N: This is it, faithful readers. The last chapter. I'm kind of in shock right now. I was going to try not to be melodramatic about it, but so far, it's not really working. Elle and I honestly can't fully express just how much we've appreciated your incredible dedication. Your continued readership has meant the world to us, and we hope you've enjoyed the ride. It's been pretty wild. Thanks especially to all of you who've been consistently reviewing. We're over the moon about all the awesome feedback you've given; really makes a writer's day.

Shameless self-promotion again, I know, but if you're interested in more stories in a similar vein to Fiercer Than Fire, I'd encourage you to check out Elle's profile on Ao3 (Lady_Juno), since we collaborate a lot. Plus, Elle is amazing, and has gobs of fantastic BagginShield stuff on there. Also... you probably never saw this coming, but FtF sequel! It's a thing, and it's gonna be totally awesome. Look for it on Ao3 January-ish of next year.

biddle29: Your exuberance (and that of Misters Darcy and Butler) is always most fondly received. We wanted to thank you, from the bottom of our ink-stained hearts, for your dedication and your enthusiasm. *plate of extra-special cookies, just for you* We hate to end the story at all when it means we'll no longer have the pleasure of waking up to amazing comments like yours. Please, never lose that amazing exuberance. We hope to see you in the comment section of the sequel. *hugs* Thanks again. Here's to hoping Mr. Butler returns from Greece in time for Buried Coals.

UKReader: This. Is not. The End. *determined face* I won't let it be! We just need some epic background music and a few weeks to build up that amazing buffer, and then we can start in on the sequel. *hugs* Thanks ever so much for your comments and your love. Obsessive-er, I mean dedicated. Right Dedicated reviewers like you are the reason we made it this far. 72 chapters. Who'da thunk? Take care of yourself, friend. May the wind be ever at your back, and the stars shine upon your path.

Marina Oakenshield: So very true, and so very sad. Your unwavering calls for more inspired us to new heights of verbosity. I hope we satisfied your insatiable appetite for BagginShield-if not, then I suppose you'll just have to read the sequel. ;) Oh, tragedy, that forces poor, innocent readers to hunt for sequels. We look forward to seeing you again. For now, farewell.

Seventy Two

Kili sat up slowly, keeping his hands visible, gaze flicking between Tauriel and the guards towering above them. He could only imagine what they were thinking. "We mean no harm," he said, finally. "We're just seeking refuge in the Woodland Realm. Temporarily. A few days, at most."

Tauriel's shoulders twitched slightly. A swift glance at her face revealed only the echoes of what might have been a suppressed laugh. Fluidly, she slipped out of their shelter and stood. She, too, kept her hands visible.

"Do you expect us to attack you?" asked one of the guards dryly.

"If hospitality is all you seek, you may think again about whom you seek it from." The second guard folded his arms, and Tauriel acknowledged his words with a slight nod.

"If we cannot claim asylum here, then we request supplies for the journey west."

The guards traded look, and though no one asked, the suspicion of the Mountain's welcome hung heavy in the air. Had their former captain been thrown out? Was this dwarf her beloved, or her captor?

"Gather your things and follow us." The first guard touched his companion's shoulder and nudged him toward the river.

Red hair obscured her face a moment as Tauriel turned and bent to lift the canvas from its branch. Whatever she was thinking, she seemed unwilling to share it.

Kili fought in vain to suppress an embarrassed grin as he folded and rolled the blankets. "That went about as well as I expected." He certainly hadn't thought Erebor's stiffly cordial relationship with the Woodland Realm would warrant any sort of open-armed welcome.

They quickly finished and shouldered their packs, moving to join the two by the river, and Kili looked sideways at Tauriel. "They'll take us to the king?"

The guards were likely listening, but neither gave any indication that this was the case. Tauriel glanced at her husband and tipped her head slightly to one side, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"It will depend primarily on how occupied the king is at the moment. He prefers to know who enters and leaves his kingdom, but there are times when he is simply too busy to perform such duties personally. If this is the case, then we'll be taken to the prince." She didn't seem bothered by the thought.

Kili was, however, and she pretended not to notice. Conversations about Legolas didn't seem to be a good device for making the dwarf more comfortable. She kept a hand on his shoulder, though. That seemed to help.

The hike up the river trail brought them to the back entrance by mid-afternoon, and it was only as they were shown into the lower guest wing that Tauriel paused, looking at one of the guards with a slight frown.

"Why have you brought us here, Emlinor?"

The guard's expression darkened only minimally. "His Majesty the Prince has given orders that you and your companion are to be received as guests."

Kili exchanged a look of surprise with the elleth. Did Legolas' graciousness know no bounds? Then again, Kili didn't fancy the prince had granted them such a courtesy for his sake. Well. Whatever the reason, he was grateful.

He nodded at the guard who had spoken. "Then please convey our thanks to your prince. His gesture of goodwill will be reported to my uncle the king."

Kili didn't have much else he could offer in return, and yet he felt it was something. Even the smallest acts of good faith between Erebor and the Woodland Realm would make a difference in the way their relations would evolve from here on out.

The guard nodded, seeming unhappy, but not distrustful. At a door marked with a curly Elven rune, the guards bowed and departed, one murmuring something in Elvish to Tauriel. She acknowledged his words with a nod, ushering Kili inside. The room was circular and airy, with a large bed and water feature in the corner that looked and sounded like a tiny waterfall.

"Are all the guest rooms like this?" Kili glanced curiously at his wife, both impressed and somewhat unnerved by the place. It reminded him of Rivendell, but only distantly. Tauriel shook her head.

"The upper halls are more lavish than this. As royalty, you ought to have been accorded a larger room... but I'm glad you weren't." She slipped the straps off her shoulders and set her bag on the floor by the wall, meeting his questioning look with a shrug. "Too many luxuries make me uncomfortable."

They were left to their own devices for the rest of the day, though elves occasionally checked in with them to confirm supplies and whatnot. Tauriel showed a complete disinterest in leaving the room and, after some pressing, confessed that one of their guides had warned her of the Guard's continued hostility toward her as the elleth who had betrayed their king's trust.

Thus, it wasn't until the evening meal that the two of them emerged from their room. There was a servant to guide them, though Tauriel knew the way very well.

The dining hall was a long, tall room, wide enough for two long tables and brightly lit, filled with the sounds of laughter and music. It wasn't raucous, as the dining hall in Erebor was when full, but somehow musical, the noise rebounding from the high ceiling in distractingly perfect Elvish pitch. Tauriel guided Kili to the counter where they could collect their food, then moved toward the tables, searching for a place to sit. Her gait was confident and unbothered until a particularly flushed, grinning elf with dark brown hair called her name.

"Tauriel! Well, if it isn't our beautiful traitor captain."

Kili stiffened, his knuckles whitening around the edge of his tray, and the red-haired elleth touched his shoulder, shaking her head slightly. Rising to this bait would do neither of them any good. She made to move past their antagonist, the wall forcing her to pass very close to his smiling face.

"Are you afraid, Captain? Your heart beats very quickly." He glanced at the the elf to his left, as if for confirmation, and laughed. This motion brushed the tip of his pointed ear against Tauriel's hip, as she'd stopped, now frowning slightly.

"Might I ask-" But her question suffered an early death at the hands of the elf's interruption. He sat up a little straighter.

"Oh, wait!" The elf's face, already flushed with wine, now took on a half delighted, half embarrassed shade of red. "My mistake, mistress. Yours isn't the only heartbeat I hear."

Someone farther along the bench paled noticeably and looked up at Tauriel with wide brown eyes.

"Tell me it's not true. You didn't... did you? With him?"

Tauriel stared at the female who'd addressed her and opened her mouth, but the words lost their way between her mind and lips, and she said nothing. The female stood, her Guard uniform not concealing the tension in her shoulders as she pointed accusingly at Tauriel.

"Is that why you betrayed us? Because you carry his child?"

The hall went suddenly, disastrously silent.

Kili froze where he stood, and he could've sworn his heart stopped. It wasn't possible. How could it be? They'd only been married for a matter of days. So many conflicting emotions twisted inside him that for an uncomfortable handful of seconds, he hadn't the faintest idea how to react.

Then, suddenly, he did know. Setting his tray down at some indiscriminate point on the nearby table, he moved to stand beside and slightly in front of his wife, fixing the she-elf who'd accused Tauriel with a dark look.

"If you knew anything of your former captain's heart, you would never say such things of her." In the nearly absolute silence of the hall, the quiet steadfastness of his voice was clearly marked. "And if she is carrying our child, I count it a great blessing upon our union. Lady Tauriel is my wife, and a Princess of Erebor."

The female Guard watched him a moment longer, then shifted her gaze to Tauriel. The contents of the red-haired elleth's tray rattled slightly as her hands began to shake. Her expression couldn't have been more shocked if Kili had turned and run her through with her own dagger. After a long moment, she remembered to breathe.

"We should... take our meal to our room," she whispered, and even at so low a volume, every elf in the hall could doubtless hear the way the words stumbled over one another. She didn't doubt the word of the guard, even as drunk as he was. None of the Eldar would tell a lie, even in jest.

But the improbability of the truth could be considered later. Right now, she needed to get away from all the staring eyes. Having quite lost her appetite, she strode swiftly from the hall, leaving the tray on the counter and barely noticing as Kili followed.

In the room, with the door safely shut, Kili watched as his wife seated herself on the edge of the bed, folding in on herself. What she'd been through was deeply humiliating, and he didn't suppose he could ever understand just how deep. These were her people, people she'd known and fought alongside hundreds of years before he'd even been born.

Somewhat surprised by the sinking opulence of the mattress as he sat beside his wife, he nearly fell back, and only righted himself by grabbing onto her shoulder. "Sorry."

With a sigh, he slipped his arm around her, holding her tightly. "Sorry about... everything. If I'd known coming here would be like that, I'd..." But she'd wanted to come here. He couldn't fault her for that. A long silence ensued, and then he spoke again, meeting her aberrantly hesitant gaze.

"Tauri... are you really...?" He made a nebulous motion toward her midsection, hoping the question didn't somehow make things worse.

She didn't answer, allowing the silence to settle again. Grasping his hand, she closed her eyes, color suffusing her cheeks as she frowned in concentration.

It took a moment for Kili to recognize the expression. She was listening. With a feeling of awe, he wondered if her hearing could possibly be that good. He received his answer quickly enough.

All the color drained from Tauriel's face, leaving her pasty white, a sheen of nervous sweat on her brow. "Valar help us." Her green eyes opened and fastened on his face, now full of what looked like... fear. "I'm pregnant."

Kili's stomach felt like cold lead, and his throat was tight.

"Forgive me, Tauriel," he managed to choke out, lowering his forehead to rest against their joined hands. "I... did this to you. It's my fault." There was devastation in his chocolate eyes when he looked up at her again. This was never the way he'd imagined her reacting to such a thing.

He stroked her hands gently, trying to relax some of the tension in them. Beyond apologizing, what was there to say? No words could stop what had been set into motion inside her, reverse it, make it go away.

"No, it's-" Tauriel's voice cracked, and she paused to clear her throat, something she couldn't remember ever doing before. "It's not because of you, Kili." She was ashamed of how her words shook, how her hands shook. Her fingers tightened around his as she closed her eyes again, unconsciously curling in on herself once more.

It might have been a few minutes before she spoke again, or an hour, or several hours. The world might have stopped around them, save for the incongruously peaceful sound of water coming from the corner. Tauriel's shuddering eased as Kili ran a broad hand over her back. Perhaps he didn't know what to say, but his hands soothed her.

"Please... it's not your fault. I don't... I can't fail again." Her voice was steadier now. She let him help her sit up, and folded her legs under her body, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart.

"Fail?" Kili shook his head, a number of things lining up now. She was afraid of failing the child. Failing the child like she'd perceived she had failed Tilda. "No, no. Tauri, listen to me."

His earnest tone drew her gaze again, and his hand paused against her back. "You haven't failed anyone. Look, if I held myself to the same standards you do, I wouldn't even be able to function. I wish you'd stop being so damned hard on yourself." There was unmistakable frustration in his tone now, and the elleth looked away.

Kili drew her face gently back toward him. "Tauri, please. Don't do this to yourself again. You haven't failed. You've always done the best you can possibly do, and that's all anyone can ask. This child will be just the same. I know I'm young, but you and I... together, we can care for this child. I promise you, we'll all be just fine."

It was a bit easier now that he knew why she'd reacted the way she had. For a terrible moment, he'd thought the problem had been with him. A fleeting fear that she'd been repulsed by the idea of carrying his child... As ever, his fear was unfounded, and he mentally scolded himself for thinking something so stupid could be true.

Tauriel's breathing settled as she looked into his eyes. She searched them, eyebrows drawn together, raised in the center. Uncertain. Frightened. Vulnerable. Slowly, her expression relaxed.

"You really believe that." Licking her lips, she let out a soft, breathless laugh. There was only the slightest edge of hysteria to it. She was regaining control. The elleth took a deeper breath and rolled her shoulders.

"Kili..." Tauriel paused, uncertain. "I hadn't yet come of age when my parents and sister were killed by orcs. I tried to defend them. When I woke up... I was in a room like this, here, in the Woodland Palace." She looked around, as though checking to see if it was the same room. "Legolas had nursed me back to health. He didn't even know my name. What was left of my clan... they left me behind. They were nomads. It was their way. I wasn't... strong enough." She sighed, and looked down at her flat, inconspicuous stomach.

"Every day, I've been trying to prove them wrong. It's been almost six centuries since then."

"It's been long enough," Kili murmured, still processing her words. This explained a few things. Why she was so hard on herself. Why she felt so indebted to Thranduil, and so strongly connected to Legolas. Why it was so hard for her to talk about her past.

"You did everything you could to save your family. It's not your fault, and I'll keep telling you that until you accept it. Nothing that you've been blaming yourself for is your fault, Tauri. You're the strongest person I know, but even you have limits. You can't expect more of yourself than you're capable of."

His words seemed to strike a chord. At least, Tauriel remained quiet for a very long time after that. She shifted a little and pressed her red-haired head against his shoulder.

"Thank you."

"You can't do this, Brother!" It had been a very long time since Balin had sounded quite so frightened. It was worse even than that, if only because Thorin and Fili were both listening. Dwalin stood firm, his jaw set, Dain's battle ax balanced easily on one shoulder.

"I've already done it," he growled calmly. "It's my job to protect them. I'll keep doing my job, long as I'm able." Even with a crutch tucked under his arm, the dwarf cut an intimidating figure. Dain, however, looked far from intimidated.

"And you expect me to accept this... substitution?" The iron-helmed dwarf made a show of staring Dwalin up and down, looking insulted. He turned to Thorin. "Your nephew does me great dishonor, Cousin. He flees my challenge like the coward he is, leaving a... cripple to fight in his stead."

Thorin managed to hold his first response in check, but there was immense displeasure in his eyes. "Dain, you have demanded this duel to satisfy your grievance, expecting that the ancient laws of the practice be followed. You know as well as I do, the Right of Substitution is as old as every other part of the tradition. Lord Dwalin honors your challenge to my nephew, and you do him this great offense?"

Dwalin made a show of hefting the ax, an easy gesture that made the muscles in his arm ripple impressively. "If ye wish to withdraw yer challenge, Cousin," the warrior said in a dangerously light tone, "none would fault ye. I've never lost a duel, and the loss of a leg won't change that."

Balin shot his brother a warning look. The taunts would serve only to raise Dain's ire. As much faith as he'd always had in the hulking warrior's prowess, the loss of a leg had made him slower, less steady. He feared his brother would lose.

Fili chewed on his tongue in order to remain silent. The right ought to have been his, but he could barely lift that ax, and Thorin had made no vague implications concerning what would have been done if he'd taken the challenge anyway. Personally, Fili didn't want to be responsible for a second Exile.

Dain glowered up at Dwalin from beneath the rim of his helm. "I won't fight a cripple. There is no honor in the defeat of one who can scarcely stand without aid."

His spare ax remained stubbornly tucked into its holder at his belt. If he were to draw it now, it would signal the start of the duel, and there would be no turning back. Dain fixed Thorin with a look of indignation. "I will fight no one but the one to whom the challenge has been issued. I will see him punished for his insults to me, for his insults to all that's good and natural."

By now, the older dwarf had worked himself into quite the rage, and he took a step or two in Thorin's direction, underscoring his words with stiff, violent gestures. "Hear me, Cousin. I will wait as long as it takes to receive proper satisfaction."

There was a faint hiss as a large, double-bladed battle ax cut through the air and halted centimeters from Dain's nose. As the dwarf stared at his own ax in outrage, Dwalin spoke, his tone casual.

"Ye've got only two choices, son of Nain. Either ye can accept my right as Substitute for Prince Kili, or ye can withdraw yer challenge and live with it." The warrior's voice lowered to a soft growl for his next words. "Or, I suppose, ye can let yer cronies fight in yer place, but I doubt they would do yer biases proper credit."

Dain's rage boiled out through every pore, and as his narrowed eyes shifted between the finely honed blade and Dwalin's face, one sturdy hand went to rest on the ax at his belt. "So that's to be the way of it, is it?" His voice was deadly, forced through clenched teeth. "You think you can cow me into submission?"

A glance at Thorin told him the dwarf king would not be intervening, which was quite as he expected. Perhaps slightly less expected was the sudden flash of polished steel from Dain's belt.

The clash of metal on metal was deafening, rebounding from one scarred wall to the other. This hall had, according to Thorin, once been a meeting place for small, unofficial councils. Now it was bare, and in desperate need of heavy repair, the stonework all but gutted by the dragon's claws.

This, unfortunately, meant that the floor was uneven, which put Dwalin at a distinct disadvantage. Further, Dain's battle ax was a two-handed weapon, and Dwalin couldn't use it properly. It was with a valiant effort that he wielded it one-handed until the older dwarf stumbled back, hand bleeding. Dropping the heavy weapon, Dwalin whipped a war ax from his belt. It was smaller than the weapon Dain held, but that was something he could work with.

Dain's ax swung in low and fast on Dwalin's injured side, and the warrior barely managed to deflect the blow with his crutch, which bent with a screech.

Fili supported his uncle as they watched, every nerve tense. Balin tugged anxiously on his beard, his eyes following every arc and clash of the combatant's weapons. It seemed that, though Dwalin was fighting both Dain and his missing leg, he had turned it into something of an advantage, using his crutch as a shield as often as he used it to steady himself.

The combatants were in constant motion. Dain drove his opponent back relentlessly, his anger only mounting as Dwalin continued to give way before him, rather than standing his ground. It wasn't the dwarven way. Yet, if he'd stood his ground, he would have lost. Dain's ax haft was slick with blood. Dwalin's shoulder on his injured side was torn open, raw and bloody under his tunic.

It was then, as Dain swung his ax in a mighty, two-handed arc, that Dwalin moved. The crutch clattered to the ground. The war ax fell from his grasp. Dwalin hurled his bulk forward and down, dropping under Dain's guard and bowling him over while the dwarf's ax continued on its path through the air, ultimately hitting the wall. It fell, blade broken.

Now they were both unarmed. For one or the other to draw a dagger would be a black mark against them, shame and dishonor for drawing on an unarmed opponent. It was also now an even fight. They rolled over and over one another, hands grasping at thick necks, fingers seeking weaknesses in heavy armor.

Fili tasted blood. Balin looked ready to tear his beard out. It had to be quick. It had to be, or Dwalin would lose.

Dain let out a strangled cry, half fury, half pain. Dwalin was underneath him, one hand on his opponent's throat, the other hovering near Dain's face. Blood on his fingernails betrayed the wound that hadn't yet shown across his cousin's eye. As Dain tried to force the clawing fingers away with both hands, Dwalin rolled, pinning his attacker to the floor, one hand still on his throat.

"Yield!"

"Never!"

"I said, yield."

Dain's only answer was a low gurgle as his face turned purple. A second passed. Then two. Purple became unpleasantly blue. Dain wasn't breathing, his windpipe pinched nearly shut under his opponent's weight. He tapped Dwalin's arm weakly, and the warrior released him, immediately rolling off his body, leaving him to gasp and choke. For a moment, the tension seemed to ebb, and Dwalin moved away from the defeated dwarf.

"Finish it!" Dain snarled, voice hoarse. He sat up, face livid, one hand on his throat, as though to protect it.

"No."

Every eye was on Dwalin as he used the wall to haul himself upright.

"Give me an honorable death!" Dain's shout echoed into silence before Dwalin answered.

"No. I fight in Prince Kili's stead. The final blow is his, and he wouldn'a taken it."

"Prince Kili," Dain rasped, spitting the words as his chest heaved, "would never have been in a position to offer a final blow. You know it."

The dwarf's helmet had fallen off during the course of the fight, and his scraggly grey and white hair, sweat-soaked, stuck out at all angles. He was leaning against the wall, looking all but spent, his rage turned to exhaustion and humiliation. "So you won't grant me an honorable death, then. You defeat me, and then leave me to live with the shame."

Thorin's expression was unreadable as he approached, picking his way carefully around the gouges in the floor. Then he caught Dwalin's gaze, and his composure weakened a bit. The hulking dwarf had lost quite a bit of blood, and though he did his best to hide it, was obviously in pain. Balin had already gone for the healer on duty, but it would probably be a minute or two before he returned.

"Dain," Thorin said steadily, "we will consider the matter finished. No one will speak of your defeat beyond this room, if that is your wish, and you will consider your grievance settled. Is this agreeable?"

Dain's hands shook, though whether with anger or exhaustion was anyone's guess. "It... will be an honor to serve the throne of Erebor," he whispered at length, the words hissing slightly between clenched teeth.

A laugh escaped Fili, and he was as much surprised by it as anyone else. It was as though someone had untied a knot that had hung around his neck. Dain was a stubborn git, but once the dwarf was bound by honor and duty nothing could sway him.

"Let's see you taken care of, Cousin, and then we can celebrate over a flask of ale. What say you?" The blond smiled at Dain, then at his uncle.

Dain's healer entered the hall at a jog, followed by Balin. He was younger than Oin by a fair stretch, his hair and beard both dark nut-brown. Pausing only briefly to examine his leader, he moved swiftly to Dwalin, who looked dangerously unsteady, even leaning against solid stone.

Balin hovered nearby, face still tense with worry, as the healer helped Dwalin sit and began his work. Thorin moved to Dain, his arms crossed at his chest, his brow creased with what could have been any number of pains or concerns.

"I admire your strength and determination. I always have." Thorin's voice was low, confidential. "I will need your cooperation in the days to come. I respect your opinions, but I also require you to respect mine, and defer to them if such is my will. That is the only way this kingdom can become again what it once was." With some effort, he crouched down beside the older dwarf. "Will you work with me to restore Erebor, Dain?"

Dain's gaze was on Thorin's face, sharp and clear in spite of his disheveled appearance. His answer, when it came, was slow and determined. "I pledge my service hereafter to the Kingdom of Erebor. The Iron Hills will thrive under my son." Once spoken, the words became binding, and their effect on Dain was visible. The tension eased out of his shoulders as he bowed his head submissively to the king.

Thorin nodded slowly, placing a hand on Dain's shoulder. His contemplative look lingered a moment longer, then faded away as he eased himself up again. "When you're able, come to me again. There is much to be done now, and your council is invaluable to me." Pacing back to Dwalin, he watched the healer finish suturing the wounded dwarf's shoulder before carefully bandaging it. When Balin sent him a questioning look, Thorin made a furtive motion. Settled.

"What's your plan for coronation?" It was Dwalin that spoke first, though Fili bounced anxiously in place, seeming unable to hold still anymore.

"There's a team working on carving a new throne," said Balin quietly. "And the forges had been lit. When he is well, Thorin may forge his crown."

"And Bofur's working with some of the Iron Hills folk on repairing the King's Hall." Fili lifted himself onto his toes, then dropped back down, seemingly just for something to do. "Everything should be ready by spring, which will give us time to send for those that'll take offense if we don't." He grinned, and for a moment, it looked like he was trying to make up for Kili's absence.

Dwalin's eyes shifted back to his king. "And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, we work." Thorin's answer was swift and determined. "There is much rebuilding to be done, and we'll need more skilled crafters than we now have to do it right. Balin, I'll entrust you with sending out notices to the other dwarf settlements. Priority will be given to the living quarters and dining halls first, then to the Hall of Kings."

He shifted his weight, still looking rather weak. "Dwalin, you'll be responsible for munitions, and training, when the time comes. You'll need to assemble a team to forge new armor and weaponry for Erebor's army. No doubt soldiers from the Iron Hills will be... stationed here for a few months longer. Until we've built up a large enough standing force."

Finally, he turned to Fili. "You'll be in charge of writing formal invitations for the Coronation." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I expect you'll take extra care with the one for your mother."

Each of the three nodded with varying degrees of confidence. While Dwalin looked wary and exhausted, Fili all but glowed.

"You can count on me, Uncle!" The young blond fetched Dwalin's battered crutch for him before returning to Dain, who was having his wrist bound. Sprained, according to the healer.

"Come along, Cousin." Fili extended a hand to the defeated warrior, still smiling. "I promised a celebration, didn't I? We're on the same side, after all, and there's much to celebrate."

On the one hand, Kili had been very clear about Dain's actions, and Fili didn't at all approve. On the other hand, Thorin had specifically requested a concerted effort on his part to befriend the dour old dwarf, and he hadn't actually seen anything but justified outrage from him. And after all, his words were true. They were all on the same side.

Billa lurked outside the hall, gnawing on her lip. For one thing, Thorin had been gone for far too long, and for another, a healer had been sent for. Somehow, in the past couple weeks, cowardice had crept into her heart. The hobbit couldn't bring herself to go in, frightened of what she might see. What if Thorin had fallen down a hole and hurt himself? Or what if a pillar had fallen on him? Or what if Dain had gone completely off his head and attacked-

The door opened and Thorin emerged, moving gingerly. He'd been standing for too long. Shuddering with relief, she quickly moved forward and inserted herself under his arm. She wasn't much in the way of support (because he was so much larger and heavier than she) but she could steady him, at least.

"What happened in there? I heard a healer was called for."

Thorin didn't reply immediately, waiting until they'd gone a ways down a vacant corridor branching off from the main one. He was once again reminded of just how perfectly she fit beneath his arm, her softness and warmth offsetting the cold hardness of the stone surrounding them. "The duel. It's over now."

Billa paused, directing a most displeased expression up at him.

"I... couldn't tell you beforehand," Thorin explained before she could speak her disapproval. "I knew how you'd react, and it was hard enough for me to allow it as it was. Dwalin claimed the Right of Substitution for Kili."

"Dwalin?" Billa looked horrified. "But he's - Thorin, that's madness!" Then she seemed to realize that he'd already said the duel was over, and stiffened. "Who won? Was he hurt? Oh spirits..." The healer. She looked back over her shoulder. "Please tell me no one died."

"Dwalin's fine, Billa. Dain, too. They're both alright." Thorin felt her body relax, and regretted the shock - however brief - he'd given her.

He quickly reported the way the fight had gone, how Dain had been spared, the earnestness with which he'd pledged his service and loyalty. "I believe the worst is over. All our thoughts turn now to the restoration of Erebor, and the Coronation. The glad days we've hoped for since... the Desolation."

Thorin looked slightly overcome, his previous weariness forgotten in the emotion of the moment. "I can't tell you how much this means to me, being able to call my people home again now. Giving them a future unlike any they've dared to dream of before."

Nudging the hobbit out from beneath his arm, he took both of her hands before him and leaned down until his face was nearly on a level with hers. "I am forever in your debt," he said softly. "And in paltry repayment, I offer my dear burglar half a kingdom... on the condition she accepts with it the heart of its king."

His eyes, sapphire-blue, studied her gently, taking careful note of her reactions. For a moment, he looked nervous, and then it passed. "Will you have me as your husband, Billa Baggins?"

It looked rather as though the hobbit had been frozen. She didn't answer, didn't move, didn't even breathe. With her mouth hanging open and her eyes fixed on his, Billa was the personification of stunned disbelief. Then her lungs started working again. Her mouth curved into a smile and a laugh escaped her in short bursts.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" She threw her arms around his neck, temporarily forgetting his injuries. "Of course I'll have you!" Billa laughed again, giddy.

The question of whether his kingdom would have her was one her dazzled mind couldn't summon. Thorin wanted to marry her. Marry! The best she'd hoped for was to be his mistress-he was a king, after all, and had obligations. This, however, was a dream she'd cherished since Laketown. It felt like a century had passed. Thank goodness she was still young enough after all that!

"I'm glad, Billa. So very glad." Thorin held her tightly, nuzzling her curly mane. Her beads chimed softly as they swung against his. "Though I suspect the reason may be slightly selfish: I can't live without you."

"I would've stayed," she assured him, helpless laughed escaping between her words, "even if you hadn't. Even if it killed me." Her voice became fierce as she pressed a kiss to his neck, which was as high as she could reach without his help. "You can't get rid of me now, Thorin. You're stuck with me."

"Then I consider myself the happiest of dwarves." Thorin pulled her chin up for a proper kiss, and only broke it when he was forced to though lack of air. There were equal parts wonder and self-consciousness in his face.

"Best left for private," he said. "Shouldn't get carried away... here, in the open." He glanced down both ends of the corridor.

So the matter with Dain wasn't completely settled. At least not in his mind. Dwarves were fairly well scandalized by public affection, and the king was no exception. Now wasn't the time to be breaking any more rules.

The halfling's face was a fetching shade of pink, though her smile didn't falter. "I hardly think you're well enough to be thinking of that," she mumbled, nudging him gently. "Come on. You need to sit down."

As Thorin's face heated and understanding of her implication dawned on him, the pair moved off. Perhaps they needed to talk about this. Billa's arm slipped around his waist and she steadied him, her body soft and sturdy as she wedged her side against his. Well... they would talk about it later. A selfish impulse, maybe, but... Thorin tightened his hold on her a little. Being selfish was acceptable, so long as it kept her near.

Dain leaned against a fractured pillar, lips pursed as he watched them amble down the grand hall. A Dwarf's love was fierce and strong. He wouldn't begrudge his cousin that. But the idea of a Hobbit on the queen's throne...

"My lord?" The healer had appeared behind him, supporting Dwalin. Balin was on his brother's other side.

"Cousin? Something wrong?" Fili emerged behind the others, toting the bloodied weapons that would need to be cleaned before returning to their masters.

"I believe the king desires rest. We should take ours as well." Dain nodded to the others and shuffled off at a slow limp, his helm in one hand. There would be time for plans later.

THE END