Sooo... the final chapter.

I do have to admit I'm feeling a little nostalgic here...

Enjoy some good and proper happy-ending-fluff :)

(Blue is the warmest colour is a french romantic drama movie, and very, uh, interesting... I did enjoy it xD)

Behind Blue Eyes

XXII: Blue is the warmest colour

Dís, daughter of Thráin and Princess under the Mountain, turns out to be very similar to her brother in many respects.

Both look remarkably alike, with long locks of dark hair and piercing eyes the exact same shade of blue, both will stop short of nothing when it comes to the safety and happiness of those they love, and both siblings' emotions are a wide, deep body of water. Where Thorin is like the sea, however, endless and dark and unpredictable, Dís reminds Bilbo of the pond tucked away into the hills of Buckland, ever so vast and going deeper than any hobbit has yet discovered, but also flaunting safely shallow spots for the young Tooks and Brandybucks to play in, and beautiful green shores many a picnic was already held on.

Where Thorin means safety for her, strong arms and hot kisses, Dís – makes her feel like this, the mountain, Erebor… might actually be a home.

"So you're the One to complete my idiot brother and his oaf of a Consort," the resolute dwarrowdam states the moment she swipes into the chambers that have, over the course of the last few months, slowly been turned into a home for the royal family, their most trusted, and a single hobbit living underneath a mountain, "I'm glad they finally found you. My sons mentioned that you're a sensible sort, thank Mahal, we sorely need some more brains in this family – oh, and I see congratulations are in order?"

"Fíli and Kíli didn't spill that particular secret, then?" Bilbo smiles as she struggles to stand up, her swollen belly the reason she did not receive this first and largest caravan coming from the Blue Mountains at the Gates in the first place. (That, and her beloveds' rather irrational fear, for – apparently – their people's dams have a much harder time of having children than hobbits do, and they have been trying their honest best to keep her from moving any more than absolutely necessary for quite a few weeks now. So, of course, waddling across Erebor to join the reception committee was out of the question.)

"I do believe they kept that certain titbit of information as an extra string to their bows in order to divert your attention in case it became too smothering, sister dear," Thorin remarks, amusement audible in his deep voice and bubbling lightly in the murky waters, and strides over to press a whiskery kiss against Bilbo's lips and her right back into the armchair she has only just managed to stand up from. "Sit back down, gayadê. If anyone will understand your situation, it's my sister."

"I'd love to claim that there's no similarity whatsoever, a chéadsearc," Bilbo snarks right back, effortlessly continuing their war of as of yet un-translated pet names that has been going on for quite some time now even as she accepts Dís' easy (if logistically slightly challenging) embrace, "considering that we're talking about Fíli and Kíli and the fact that they've surely caused countless troubles before they were even born, but I haven't forgotten that it's your and Dwalin's child I'm carrying, so that'd be a futile reasoning."

Dís bursts into sudden, barking laughter, and Bilbo hums contently. Oh yes, her Companions' predictions will, most certainly, come true: The two of them will get along splendidly.

"Please, do sit down," she amicably prompts this gorgeous dwarrowdam who is to be her sister, "I'd offer you tea, but, as you hear, I've been banned from doing as I want. Thorin, a ghrá, do put the kettle on, would you?"

Pressing another kiss against her temple Thorin dutifully makes for the little, familiar kitchen attached to this chamber (a feature both Bombur and the hobbit insisted on) while Bilbo and Dís share an amused smile.

"You've trained him well," the Princess remarks, amusement bubbling in the warm pond, and finally shucks her heavy fur coat so similar to her brother's.

"It's his own fault, for being so overcautious. Believe me, I understand how hard and dangerous pregnancies can be for your people, but, living amongst dwarrows or not, I'm still a hobbit. Many of our women have more than five children, some even more than ten – if they were incapable of moving around with another one on the way, who'd take care of the older fauntlings when their husbands are out in the fields, working?" Tilting her head back she looks up at Thorin who has come up from behind, and turns to breathe a kiss against the large hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "But, you'll learn soon enough, once you can barely breathe between your kingly duties, Dwalin having to beat sense into all those guards' arses, and I'm here alone with your eldest children."

Thorin's eyes, as expected, widen a little upon this prediction, before a wide smile sneaks onto his lips, as always when she speaks of children. He leans forward, then, to kiss her quite thoroughly, and it is only Fíli's yelp of pure emotional pain (or so he claims) that tears them apart.

"Can't you do that somewhere else? Kee and I are already scarred for life, you don't have to make it any worse!"

"And here I would've thought that you caught us kissing often enough in this very room to know better than to simply tromp in here without making sure you won't be scarred again first," Dwalin calmly remarks on his way over to the armchair Bilbo has claimed for herself, only to lift her into his strong arms without so much as a by-your-leave, carrying her over to a wide and already well-worn davenport. He settles them into it without even jolting her, his hold as secure as ever, and Bilbo leans against him without complaining. (It would have been futile anyway, and rather stupid – the gleeful bubbles disturbing the orange, ever so hot surface told her more than clearly what he was about to do.)

"Here, bunmel, your tea," Thorin rumbles, pulling the heavy tea table closer with one hand and setting the heavy metal pot onto it. The heavy scent of anise wafts through the room, and Bilbo smiles up at him.

"You were supposed to prepare some for your sister, a mhuirnín," she reminds him, teasing ever so gently, "I might be pregnant, but that doesn't mean I may shirk my hosting duties – my mother would've been ashamed indeed if I had no tea to offer to my future sister when she finally arrives after a long journey!"

"Which is the precise reason I chose that particular blend," he replies contently, already sinking onto the davenport next to his husband, and Dís raises a surprised eyebrow.

"I must admit, I underestimated your influence on my brother – and after my sons' letters, I had high expectations. Perhaps, with your help, he will even manage not to provoke a war with our wood-dwelling neighbours."

"Oh, I'll make sure of that," Bilbo smiles rather dangerously, and next to her the King flinches a little. "Don't worry, we'll have good relations with the elves."

"Do we have to?" Glóin, pulling his own favourite armchair over to join them, bemoans, only to receive an elbow to the ribs for his troubles.

"Finally someone to keep Thorin and Dwalin under control," a beautiful dwarrowdam with a fiery beard to put Glóin's to shame states and easily slips past him, only to unashamedly claim his armchair. "Glóin, umralamê, do bring me some of that tea."

Glóin, however, does not appear affronted or annoyed in any way. Instead he raises her hand to breathe a kiss against her knuckles, dark eyes alight with delight to have her at his side once more, countless golden coins tinkling merrily. "Ásdís, my love, anything for you."

"Would you please stop that?" a young dwarrow, who must be Gimli (even if Bilbo had not seen the picture in his father's locket she would have recognized the lad from the many, many stories), complains in wide-eyed misery, and Dís cackles.

"Just wait until you've found someone for yourself," Bilbo smiles, "you won't be able to keep your fingers to yourself either."

"Perhaps I'll bring home an elf, and mess around with them before 'adad's eyes," the youngest in the room grumbles, and skulks over to where Fíli and Kíli are sitting.

"Please don't, I'll be the one who'll have to deal with his heart-attack," is Óin's doubtfully helpful comment as he sits down in his usual spot by the merrily burning fire.

Bilbo wriggles a little in Dwalin's lap (and perhaps purposefully presses her backside against rather sensitive places one time or five, which earns her a growl and a gentle pinch) until she is sat in a way that allows her to observe the whole room slowly become more and more crowded as her Companions arrive after one another, accompanied by those family members who finally reached Erebor with today's caravan. Bombur is followed by his smiling wife as well as four tiny dwarflings and carrying a fifth, and there is a shy lad sitting with Nori. Balin's beautiful wife has claimed his chair much like Ásdís did Glóin's, her beard as long and white as her One's, and is already in deep conversation with Dís. Bombur's chubby-cheeked wife has claimed the second davenport for herself and Bifur's sister, and there is a young dwarrowdam sitting with the boys and Gimli that both Fíli and Kíli are looking at more often than not.

Sighing contently Bilbo leans against Dwalin's strong shoulder even as her hand reaches out for Thorin's, and allows the chatter to wash across her as she greedily absorbs all those positive emotions filling this room that is more of a home already than Bag End was for a long time.

There will be much to do tomorrow, a coronation and a royal wedding ceremony to plan, and even more the following days. She will stand beside Thorin and Dwalin, as Queen of Erebor, within the month, with a delicate crown on her own brow, just in time for the birth of their eldest daughter who her husbands (as well as every other dwarrow in this mountain) will instantly fall in love with, and finally have a wonderful, large, loving family-

For now, however, she is content to sit with those she has grown to love so dearly over all those months spent together, with Dwalin's arm around her shoulders and his hand once more on her belly, and Thorin's clinging to hers, their emotions warm and content and happy drawing her deeper and deeper in.

So... this is it.

I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it.

Thank you for staying with me.