Snippets of a domesticated King.

Dedicated to Calenthion, who inspired me to complete my story "Donnabelle" and helped to translate the Khuzdul I used in that work with the help of Nikolai. She also gave me the verses I used in that to help me overcome my writer's block.

Thorin Oakenshield woke in a cold sweat. The last six weeks, he dreamt of the final moments of his sweet Donnabelle and their unborn child. Each time he had the dream, it was different and yet they always ended in the same way: Donnabelle was run through by Azog.

That night was the worst of them by far. Instead of Donnabelle heading up to Ravenhill on her own, it was him that had gone up alone. Dwalin, Fíli and Kíli had followed behind him. Once they had arrived at Azog's overlook, he had sent Fíli and Kíli to scout ahead as he and Dwalin fought off goblin mercenaries. That was when Donnabelle appeared in his dream, telling him of the second army from the North. He'd decided to retreat, yet before they could, Azog had appeared with his hand around the cuff of Fíli's neck.

Thorin remembered he'd been in denial when Azog plunged his blade through the blond-haired prince's chest. After witnessing his nephew and heir die, there was only one thing on his mind. Where was his younger nephew? He remembered the battle was fierce and he'd ended up fighting Azog himself. And he lost. Just before Azog's blade pierced him, ending his bloodline, Donnabelle appeared over him. She sacrificed her life on the Pale Orc's blade so that he might live. The last thing he remembered from his nightmare was her cold, dead eyes staring up at him as he froze over her body, denying that she was truly gone.

That was when he woke and sat straight up in bed. Looking around the darkened chamber, he knew he was alone. He choked back a sob and flopped back down on the bed.

"Thorin?" a soft voice called from outside his bedchamber. It sounded a lot like Kíli.

He rubbed his face and swung his legs out from under his covers. He pulled on the sleep pants he'd kicked off at some point before he padded to the door. Pulling it open, he blearily looked over the ruffled appearance of his younger nephew. "What?" the king growled.

Kíli, with his hair mussed from sleep, did not look up at the older dwarf as he posed his question. "May I sleep with you tonight?"

Thorin blinked and then frowned. The wording of the question was not something he was used to from Kíli. The boy was never that polite or coherent at the best of times, and to be so after a nightmare sent warning bells off in Thorin's mind.

"You usually go to Fíli." The uncle rubbed his eyes and took in his nephew's appearance in once more. The younger dwarf shifted uncomfortably and didn't bring his gaze up. Okay, something was definitely not right about this situation. Kíli had never been afraid of asking for something, or from seeking comfort from either his brother or uncle throughout their journey. But for him to suddenly be nervous and unable to look the elder dwarf in the eye was unnerving Thorin. And then, Thorin noticed the small, elflike ear hidden beneath the dark hair that belonged to Kíli.

Wait… what? He frowned again, trying to process what his eyes were telling him. The dwarf in front of him was not Kíli. But… Thorin swallowed hard and stepped back from his open door. He beckoned the boy into his chambers. "Always," the uncle rumbled. He wanted to pull the boy into his arms, just to reassure himself that it wasn't a dream.

Kíli, who was not Kíli, stepped into the room and bit his lower lip. Thorin closed the door and took another look at the boy's ears, and there was no mistaking the elflike shape. Was this really Donnabelle? He didn't say anything as he made his way back to his bed. It wasn't going to be anybody else. Yet, still, his sleep-deprived mind couldn't really grasp it. Why was she hiding, and only now coming to him as Kíli? And as he allowed his gaze to drift over her and her disguise, he could pick up that she would not be able to answer any of his demands that night.

Lifting the covers up, he crawled under them and then patted the empty space beside him. Kíli hesitantly made his way over to the bed and climbed in beside the broader dwarf. Thorin sighed. He wrapped his arm around the smaller boy's waist and pulled said dwarf closer to his own chest.

"Get some sleep, Kíli." The name felt wrong coming from his lips, but Thorin guessed that that night, Donnabelle wasn't ready to face her actual name. "We'll talk in the morning."

The questions that thundered through Thorin's mind as he held the small hobbit close were: "How did she survive Ravenhill? Why was she hiding from them?" He breathed in through his nose as he remembered the mithril coat he'd found only a few short days before. The coat he'd given Donnabelle before the battle; the one they hadn't found since she'd disappeared. That probably explained the first question, but still. Why was she in hiding?

He shifted closer to the smaller dwarf beside him and pulled Kíli deeper into his embrace. It would wait until the morning.

Thorin did not mean to fall asleep again. He wasn't expecting to after the nightmare he had. But for some reason, knowing that Donnabelle had somehow survived and had come to him for comfort (though disguised as Kíli) gave him some comfort himself. It was enough reassurance to his troubled mind that it chased away any further nightmares that might have plagued him that night and allowed him to fall asleep.

The next morning, there was no sign of her visit except for the lingering scent of something uniquely Donnabelle.