Archive of Our Own ^beta

               When Bilbo finally has a moment away from the rest of the company, in the dark of a secluded room, away from Thorin and his increasingly unstable mental state, he pulls out the Arkenstone. The first thing he notices is that it is warm. And not “held close to the body for a few hours” warm. It’s hot, in fact, and feels as though it might burn him should he mishandle it. The second thing is just how pretty it is.

               Because it is not something glorious to behold, and he feels no kingly power exuding from it. The Heart of the Mountain and all he feels is a slight urge to wave it in Lobelia’s face and stick his tongue out at her because she would never have such a pretty rock.

               But then… are they all sure it’s a rock? Bilbo holds it up and turns it in his hands, inspecting it this way and that. He’s never seen a rock that seemed to have colors that rolled over the surface, even in the clearest of opals. And he’s certainly never felt a rock that was hot to the touch without any outside influence. It doesn’t much seem like a stone, is all he’s saying.

               “What are you?” he asks the Arkenstone softly, staring into the mesmerizing colors. “I would almost be inclined to think Smaug came to the mountain for you, and not the great hordes of treasure. Perhaps I will figure it out, given time…” And so, Bilbo places the gem once more into the inner pocket of his jacket, thinking maybe he could use some sunlight to inspect it more.

               It takes him hours to once more get away the next day, for Thorin has ordered them all to dig and find the Arkenstone, never mind the fact that a veritable army of Men and Elves were on their way to Erebor’s doorstep. But get away he does, and as he sits on the side of the mountain and inspects the gemstone once again, he is struck by an idea.

               Chuckling, he places the Arkenstone in a little patch of daisies before he gets up and begins to search around for more hardy flowers. He could make a little flower-crown for it! It might even make Thorin laugh!

               The thought brings a desperately sad smile to his face. He’s fairly certain Thorin will never laugh like he used to again, the way he had when Bilbo decorated his wild mane with flowers from Beorn’s garden. For now, he would have to settle for making a tiny flower-crown for the stone Thorin searched endlessly for. It would have to be enough.

               Humming as he sat back down next to the stone, he began to weave the stems of the tiny blue flowers he had found together. It was a familiar task, one he had done hundreds of times before, though it felt… different this time, for one reason or another. Carefully picking up the gemstone laid beside him, he wrapped the chain twice around it before tying the two ends together, creating a tight wreath around it. Taking a moment to inspect the thing, Bilbo nods once in approval.

               “Well, now you look twice as pretty!” he chuckles, and he could swear a feels the Arkenstone vibrate in happiness for a split second, but it’s easily shaken off as the hobbit having spent too much time in the sun after being trapped in dark places for months. He’s still recovering from the poison of Mirkwood, if he was honest. He pocketed the gem once more and carefully made his way back inside the relative safety of Erebor, skin sun-warmed and hair smelling of the grass he had laid in.

-ǂ-

               It’s the middle of the night when it happens. All those around him have fallen into an exhausted sleep when Bilbo feels a strong quivering against him. It takes a time or two to pull him to full wakefulness, but once he is aware he realizes where the sensation is coming from. Sitting up quickly, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the Arkenstone, and from where it sits in his palms, it begins rocking back and forth.

               Watching with a disbelieving fascination, a single, large crack suddenly runs down the side of the gem.

               Bilbo is fully willing to admit he panicked in that moment. Scrambling to his feet while still cradling the Arkenstone in his hands, he desperately searches the sleeping dwarrow for a familiar black and silver head. When he finds none, he stumbles out of the room and begins his hasty rush to the treasure chamber.

               “Thorin!” he cries as he skids to a halt in the room. He hears coins tumbling from a mound far in the back, as if someone had just slipped in surprise. “Thorin, I found the Arkenstone and it’s breaking and I don’t know what to do!”

               A pause fills the air before coins are sent tumbling in an avalanche and Bilbo spots a handsome, if gaunt, face moving steadily towards him.

               “What do you mean breaking?!” Thorin’s baritone rumbles across the room, anger running like a thinly veiled threat through it.

               “I don’t know!” Bilbo valiantly fights back the tears that are gathering in his eyes. “One moment it was moving and the next it just started- ah!” Another crack appears in the stone, splitting off from the original one. “There’s another one! I’m not doing anything, I swear!”

               Finally, Thorin slides down the final hill of treasure and comes to a faltering stop before Bilbo. His hair is disheveled and there are bruises under his eyes, but the hobbit is shocked to see a clarity in the depth of his cobalt eyes that had not been there the day before.

               Carefully, the King reaches up to cradle Bilbo’s hands in his own, wide eyes inspecting the still-rocking gem. “It moves,” he breathed. “On its own, it moves.”

               “Thorin, are you sure this is a stone?” Bilbo chokes back a scared sob, blinking his eyes fiercely to fight back the tears that still threaten to fall. “Because it was hot when I picked it up and now it’s moving and I just-”

               It is at that moment that the little creature inside the egg decides to make its presence known as it pushes a snout through a tiny hole it has just made.

               “An egg,” Thorin whispers as the two lean closer still to the tiny being struggling into the world. As for Bilbo, he feels as though he is back in Bag End with Bofur explaining the many ways he could die via a dragon and fights valiantly against the urge to black-out. A tiny mewling cry pierces the air as the creature opens its mouth.

               “You can do it, little one,” Bilbo encourages softly. “We’re right here!”

               Glancing at the hobbit whose attentions is held raptly by the hatching egg, Thorin feels the side of his mouth quirk up in a smile. “We’re rooting for you,” he agrees softly.

               But soon the creature seems to lose strength, as it stills with just its snout hanging out the egg, breathing heavily.

               “Can we not do something?” Thorin asks.

               “No,” Bilbo says firmly with a shake of his head. “It must do this on its own, we can take it out if it becomes too dangerous, but its just out of breath for now. Give it time.” Thorin nods carefully, still wanting nothing more than to break the egg around the newborn if it means he will not have to suffer through the agonizing wait.

               It takes a moment for them to realize they have move in synch with each other to sit on the floor, the movement done without either of them aware of it. Thorin chuckles as he leans his forehead against his burglar’s, eyes still glued to the Arken-egg in their hands. Bilbo smiles brightly as he finally lets the tears stream down his face.

               Slowly, ever so slowly, the creature begins to move again. Rocking back and forth once, a small claw reaches up to the opening and pulls at it, shattering a piece off. Seeming to realize this is a better option than trying to break the shell with its head, the newborn begins pulling at its prison, breaking off piece after piece until, finally, the opening is big enough for it to be born.

               Tumbling out of the Arkenstone, a palm-sized newborn sits between Thorin and Bilbo and looks back and forth between them. Its scales are a deep black, so dark they shine blue in the dim torch-lit room. Its snout is pink, quickly fading into black once more as the scales proceed up the face. Blinking its bright, Durin-blue eyes up at the two adults that surround it, the dragon opens its tiny jaws and lets out a shriek that would better classed as a squeak.

               Softly, Bilbo coos at it, demeanor softening as he watches it struggle to rise to its four clawed feet. Its wings, however, keep getting in the way, leaving the babe to trip as it wobbles around. Even Thorin cannot help but admit the little thing is cute.

               “We have to show everyone,” Bilbo murmurs softly, though he makes no move away from Thorin.

               “Later,” the great King yawns, finally feeling the days without sleep catch up to him. Breaking away from Bilbo, he leans back against the treasure of Erebor, eyes heavy as he watches his hobbit and dragon.

               The hobbit follows him, his body finally remembering it had been asleep before the whole ‘dragon hatching’ ordeal. The dragon itself seems quite amenable to the idea of sleep as it yawns with a sleepy roar (again, better classified as a squeak). Lifting up his arm, Thorin allows Bilbo to burrow against his side, the dragon coming to rest happily on the upturned hand Bilbo lays on Thorin’s chest.

               Together, the three fall into a bone-tired sleep.

-ǂ-

               Voices that are obviously trying to be quiet and failing are what bring Bilbo back to the land of the living. Snorting softly, he reaches up and rubs sleep from his eyes, attempting to sit up only to be brought back down by a firm arm. Oh. That’s right. Looking up, Bilbo sees a still very-much-asleep Thorin curled around him. In Thorin’s beard, Bilbo can just make out two tiny blue eyes blinking at him. Obviously their little dragon had gotten spooked by the newcomers to its lair and ran and hid in Thorin’s short beard and long hair.

               A good place to hide, overall, as the two things matched quite perfectly in color.

               Carefully, Bilbo shook Thorin, whispering in his ear that they had company and that a certain creature was currently hiding away in his locks. He felt more than heard Thorin chuckle against him as he woke, a pleasant sensation that he had not felt in far too long.

               “What is it?” Thorin asked his Company, eyes still closed but a smile quirking his lips up.

               “Uncle, why is the Arkenstone broken on the ground?” Kili wasted no time in asking questions, though Bilbo held back a laugh when he saw multiple hands reach out to smack him upside the head. Even Fili was glaring at him.

               “Because it broke,” Thorin said with a lazy shrug.

               Worried murmuring could be heard from the group, and Bilbo rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from the King. “Oh, just tell them,” he grumbled as he stood and dusted himself off.

               Opening a single eye to look up at his burglar, Thorin shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, it doesn’t exactly want to make itself known and it’s not much of a believable story without it,” he explained, attitude far too blasé for Bilbo tastes.

               Crouching down next to the amused dwarf, Bilbo reached out a hand to where he knew the tiny creature hid. “It’s alright, darling, you can come out,” he cooed. “No one here will harm you, I promise.”

               “You promise?”

               Bilbo startled back at the voice and even Thorin jolted fully awake at it. Looking down at his beard and where his hair fell over his shoulder, the dwarf watched carefully as the tiny dragon slowly crawled forth, nearly tripping over its wings when it clambered onto Bilbo’s hand.

               “You can talk, little one?” Thorin asked it softly.

               Blue eyes turned to him. “To you. In your mind.”

               Bilbo shook his head wonderingly, bringing up the dragon to his eye-level as Thorin stood and dusted himself off. “How amazing,” he spoke softly. “Can all your kind do this?”

               “I can do it. Is that not enough?” the creature tilted its tiny head towards Bilbo, wings quivering as it flapped them up and down.

               “That is more than enough,” Thorin rumbled, stroking a gentle finger down the length of the dragon’s spine. It audibly purred at the dwarf’s touch, leaning into it and leaving Thorin to begin petting it softly. “Who would have known you were in that blasted stone this whole time?”

               “Wait,” Fili said stepping forward, a hand pressed to his forehead. “Are you saying… are you saying the Arkenstone was a dragon egg this whole time? And that is what came out of it?” The Company stared at the three before them incredulously.

               “Well,” Bilbo began to reason. “It’s not like it’s known how exactly dragons come into the world these days. By Morgoth in the First Age, sure, but dragons still survive today and reproduce somehow.”

               “…The Arkenstone was found in the mountain, Bilbo,” Dwalin stressed to the hobbit.

               “I believe I was left there,” the little drake informed its protectors.

               “There you have it!” Thorin proclaimed.

               “There you have what, laddie?” Balin asked, confused.

               Thorin and Bilbo quickly looked at each other before looking down at the dragon. “Are we the only ones who can hear you, lovely?” Bilbo asked. The little dragon vigorously nodded its head, a happy little trill escaping its mouth.

               “It believes it was left here,” Thorin informed those gathered. “Besides that, I can give you no answers.”

               “What is your name, sweetheart?” Bilbo asked the creature as Thorin was bombarded with question after question.

               “I do not have one. I believe parents are supposed to name their children,” the little dragon claimed.

               “Oh, darling…” Bilbo stuttered for a moment. “We do not know who your parents are, nor do we have any way to find them!”

               The dragon looked at him oddly for a moment. “But you are my parents,” it informed Bilbo. Before the hobbit could protest, the creature went on, “It is my understanding that parents are supposed to love one another and their child, and since the two of you do love each other and also hold great affection for me, I can only conclude that you are my parents.”

               Bilbo’s cheeks were quickly gaining color as the dragon continued on. Choking softly, he grabbed Thorin’s arm. When the dwarf turned to look at him, confused, Bilbo quickly told him, “The little one believes we are its parents and therefore supposed to name it.”

               Blinking twice, Thorin looked down at the babe while the rest of the Company burst out in laughter. “Why do you believe that, child?” he asked. Upon the dragon’s repeated explanation, Thorin’s eyes shot up to Bilbo, who was just as red as the dwarf now was. “Is… is that true?” he asked softly. At Bilbo’s hesitant nod, Thorin surged forward and captured the hobbit’s lips with his own, cradling Bilbo’s head in his hands. Bilbo quickly jerked the dragon out of the line of fire and used his other arm to cling to Thorin’s shirt, returning the kiss with just as much ferocity.

               Pulling apart, they were met with complete silence.

               “I have been wanting to do that since you saved my life from Azog,” Thorin growled, not backing away.

               “I have you beat. I’ve been wanting to do that since your majestic arse walked through my damn door,” Bilbo boasted.

               “Woo!” Kili called.

“New uncle!” Fili added unhelpfully.

               “Ahem.” Two pairs of eyes darted to the dragon who was quickly brought back to lay in between Thorin and Bilbo. “I would very much like to know my name.”

               “A name,” Bilbo breathed. “You need a name. Oh dear. Thorin, what do you name a dragon?”

               Thorin looked quite shocked at being put on the spot. “Me?! My first idea for Kili’s name was Burg!”

               “Hey!” Kili called once again. “I resemble that comment!” Fili merely laughed at the idea of his brother being named ‘Brat’; it fit so well!

               “Perhaps,” Balin stated, stepping forward to gain everyone’s attention. “This naming business is better left to later. Thorin, the elves and Men will arrive at any moment, we must have a plan set in place.”

               Blinking his clear eyes at his advisor, Thorin nodded. “Fili, Kili, I need you on the battlements. Stall them if I’m not there by the time they arrive. Dwalin, Balin, I need you to help me search, you’re the only others who know what the Gems of Lasgalen look like. Gloin, I know we don’t have an official number for the treasury, but I need you to figure out how much the men of Laketown need to rebuild and so they can afford food and medicine; once you have the figure, Dori, Bifur, and Bofur can get the coins together.”

               Thinking for a moment, Thorin nodded. “Bombur, I’m going to need you to figure out how much food and supplies we’ll need for ourselves right now, work with Oin to figure out what we’re missing as far as medical supplies go.” Finally, Thorin turned to Nori and laid heavy hands upon the dwarf’s shoulders. “Nori. I need you to start to find and document the secret passageways in the royal quarters. It’s the least affected part of the mountain, so we’ll move there, and I need to know all of its secrets.”

               Nori accepted this task with a nod before darting off towards the royal quarters. Giving each of the dwarrow in his company a glance, Thorin nodded more, and all of them scrambled to their duties. Only Ori and Bilbo, along with his draconic child, were left standing before him. Placing a gentle, innocent kiss to Bilbo’s lips, he told the hobbit, “I need you to go with Fili and Kili. I will take our little one for now, I need you to keep them civil while I find those gems.” Reluctantly, Bilbo nodded. He lifted their child and the dragon carefully crawled onto Thorin’s shoulder, quickly making a tiny nest in his hair. Unable to hold back a fond chuckle, Bilbo placed a kiss on his finger before laying the finger atop the dragons head. Thorin felt the newborn purr as Bilbo then raced off after the royal brothers.

               Looking to Ori, who now looked quite nervous, Thorin chuckled. “Don’t worry, the task I have for you is not too difficult,” Thorin rumbled. “I need you to head to the record halls and see if you can find anything on the treaties we had with Dale. I would see the town rebuilt, but we must know what they are owed by us first.”

               Ori nodded seriously, then scampered off towards where the hall of records would be. Thorin only hoped the place wouldn’t be too damaged. With a great sigh, the King turned back to the horde of treasure, and stepped into it. Those gems would not find themselves.

-ǂ-

               “They’re here!” Kili called to Fili and Bilbo. The latter two had been pacing while they waited, unsure of how to keep the two allies at bay before Thorin was back. “It’s Bard and Thranduil!”

               At the elfking’s name, Bilbo shuddered. Great, just the ray of sunshine they needed.

               Fili and Bilbo hurried to Kili’s side, watching as the two leaders approached, one on horseback and the other on the back of a great elk. “Because of course he rides an elk,” Bilbo muttered, causing the brothers beside him to snicker.

               “What do you want?” Bilbo called down once the two had gotten close enough to speak.

               Thranduil eyed the three of them, scoffing softly. “I would speak with your King, not his royal whelps,” the elf called back. Fili looked about ready to strangle him, while Bilbo saw Kili finger the elegant bow at his side.

               Bard, however, elbowed the elf in the side, unafraid of repercussions. “We come for aid!” the bowman claimed. “The promised fourteenth share of your treasure!”

               “Well, uh,” Bilbo hesitated when he saw the looks of horror from both Fili and Kili directed at him. “That’s not exactly possible at the moment. It’s going to take a very long time to fully record the wealth here and we can’t exactly split a fourteenth of a number we do not yet have!”

               The brothers nodded, as did Bard. It seemed reasonable enough.

               “What does your King have to say to this?” Thranduil taunted.

               “Well, he’s not here right now,” Kili began.

               “So, we can’t possibly know,” Fili finished, casually flicking a piece of cram off his nail that he had picked from his teeth. Dwarrow were usually crass. And sometimes they were crass at the absolute perfect moment, Bilbo mused at Thranduil’s nauseated look.

               “Disgusting,” he heard the elf mutter under his breath.

               “Look, we really do want to help,” Bilbo explained. “We’re just a bit… scrambled, at the moment!” It was only when he heard hurried footsteps that he looked back and deflated in relief at the sight of Gloin, Dori, Bofur, and Bifur, laden with bags of gold. “However, we have not been doing nothing! Thorin ordered for a portion of the treasure be given to Laketown, to help with repairs and the purchase of food and medicine!”

               At the sight of the bags, Bard and Thranduil shared a look of shock before a grin spread across Bard’s features. “I told you they were good folk,” the Man laughed. Dismounting easily, Bard hurried over to the broken gate. “I would thank your King, were he here, but for now I shall have to be content to thank all of you gathered! Would it be alright if I took only a small bag for now and brought a cart later to collect the rest?”

               Bilbo nodded happily. “Of course,” he proclaimed. Looking back to the dwarrow now gathered, Bilbo hurried Gloin as he pulled out a small bag and began filling it with as much gold as it could take. Tying it off, the dwarf tossed the bag to the hobbit, and Bilbo dangled it off the side of the gate. Bard easily caught it when it was dropped, and opened it to stare in wonder at the money held within.

               “This is…” Bard trailed off, his voice soft and disbelieving.

               “We also found some coins with the symbol of Dale on them,” Bofur called down. “We’ll still need to sort through everything, but once we get them all together, Thorin says they belong to the Lord of Dale and all inhabitants within.”

               Bilbo could swear he saw Bard tearing up, the man reaching up to press against his eyes. “That… that would be me!” He laughed wetly. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” The way Bard grinned made Bilbo’s heart lighter, indeed.

               “Is that elf bastard still there?” Bilbo jerked up from the edge of the gate to see Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin sauntering in, Ori trailing behind with scrolls in his arms.

               “If by ‘still here’ you mean insulting your nephews, then yes,” Bilbo said with a grin.

               Sticking his head over the gate, Thorin glared at Thranduil. “I spend time searching through every pile of treasure in here to find this,” Thorin grumbled, waving a wooden box in the air, “just to hear you’re insulting my nephews? You already imprisoned us, you’re lucky I’m even willing to give this to you!”

               With that, Thorin opened the box to reveal a dazzling necklace within. It was only movement from the corner of his eye at had Bilbo looking toward Thranduil, who had slipped from his mount and was hesitantly approaching. Thorin shut the box with a snap and held it out. The elfking hurried forward, and caught the box once it was thrown his way. Bilbo noted the elf looked quite distraught as he hesitantly opened the box to reveal the gems within once again.

               “The Gems of Lasgalen,” the King whimpered softly. Tears were flowing down his cheeks as he placed a delicate hand atop the necklace. “You would give me this, no compensation asked?” Thranduil demanded, his head jerking up, expecting the prize to come with a price attached.

               Thorin shook his head. “Those gems belong to you, King of Greenwood. I promised myself, when I saw my grandfather taunt you with them, that should it ever be within my power, I would return them to you without fail,” he explained.

               Thranduil sobbed out a laugh as he looked down at the beautiful prize. “You don’t understand,” he chuckled. “I requested they be made in memory of my wife. The gems were hers, ones she wished to pass to a daughter should we ever be granted one. We were only able to have Legolas before her passing. Should my son ever have a daughter, I want to be able to give something of her grandmother to her…” the elf trailed off after the words had spilled from him in a rush. It was like he’d kept this a secret for so long, just this simple act of kindness was enough to bring him to breaking.

               “Thranduil,” Thorin called, forcing the elf to look up at him. “I would have peace between us.”

               Thranduil carefully wiped his tears away, while Bard laid a steady hand on his shoulder. “I would, as well,” he admitted. “But perhaps we might talk another day. I feel…” Thranduil shook his head and Thorin nodded in understanding.

               “Another day, then,” the dwarf agreed.

               It would have gone absolutely perfectly, had Thorin’s tiny rider not sneezed and lit his hair on fire.

-ǂ-

               “So, let me get this straight,” Bard laughed from within the stronghold. “This ‘Arkenstone’ that you’ve all been going on about for ages, was actually a dragon egg?”

               Bilbo nodded, his smile self-deprecating as his little dragon made a nest atop his head. “Its birth seemed to break the dragon-sickness that was plaguing everyone’s mind,” the hobbit explained. “My theory is that it had been inadvertently causing it this whole time, driving Thrór mad and bringing Smaug upon Erebor. Even as it hatched, it was like a spell was breaking!”

               Thranduil, from where he was busy arguing with Oin about the best way to treat the burn on the side of Thorin’s neck, spoke up, “It would make much more sense. Dwarrow have always been strong of mind, even under the allure of gold. A dragon egg would most certainly be able to cause such a happening.” He then slapped away Oin’s hand. “You cannot leave it open to air, it must be kept moist!” the king hissed.

               “Would you get on with it?!” Thorin growled from where he sat. “I would like to get my hair seen to as soon as possible!”

               “Oh, don’t be impatient,” Oin muttered as he slathered a Thranduil-approved ointment on the burn. “Dori’ll sort it for ye in a moment.” Thorin just huffed out an annoyed sigh as the two healers went back to bickering about the next step.

               “Does it have a name yet?” Bard asked, reaching up to poke the tiny creature that had finally settled on its father’s head. Not yet asleep, it nipped Bard’s intruding finger with needle-like teeth. “Yowch!”

               “Don’t provoke the dragon!” Thranduil and Oin called at the same time. Looking at each other, they smiled at the agreed annoyance.

               “We haven’t had time to figure one out,” Bilbo admitted with a sigh. “Not only that, but what are you supposed to name a dragon? It seems perfectly content to let Thorin and I pick the name, but dragon’s usually have such grand, intimidating names! I would feel horrible if I were to give it a name and others found it laughable!”

               “No one will laugh when I eat them.”

               Thorin burst out laughing, startling the healers. “Sorry, it said- never mind,” the dwarf waved off the worried looks.

               “Young one, you will do no such thing!” Bilbo scolded the dragon nesting in his hair. “Eating people, can you image the looks everyone would give you in the Shire?”

               “Shire? Who said either of you were going back to the Shire?” Thorin demanded. “You’re both staying here!”

               Bilbo snorted. “And what’ll it hoard, gold? We’ve seen how well that turned out! Best that it learn to hoard flowers and good food like a true hobbit!” he stated with a stern nod.

               “It’s also my child, of course it’ll hoard gold like any reasonable dwarf!” Thorin continued to argue even as his neck was bandaged.

               “I like gold and flowers.”

               That gave Bilbo pause. A name. Perhaps…

               “Would you like the name Belladonna, my little flower?” Bilbo asked softly, thinking back to his own beloved parent. He glanced over to see Thorin giving him a warm smile, knowing how much the name meant to his beloved.

               A long moment of silence before, “A deadly flower. Yes, I quite like it! You may call me Bella should you wish.”

               Bilbo grinned widely. “Belladonna it is, my sweet one. Your grandmother would be proud.”

               “Do you even know if it’s a girl?” Bard asked after a moment.

               “Of course I am female! What, does he think such greatness would only come from male stock? Pish posh!”

               Thorin was once again left in hysterics, only managing to get out a choked, “Pish posh!” before he was incomprehensible again.

               “She says that she is,” Bilbo translated kindly. “And would like it if you did not imply otherwise.”

               A section of wall opened to reveal Nori standing there, a very confused expression on his face. “What are elf-arse and Bard doing here?”

               All in the room looked around for a moment before Balin stepped forward. “The exchange was going well and all seemed resolved when little Bella,” the white-haired dwarf nodded in the direction of Bilbo’s head. “Sneezed Thorin’s hair on fire. Thranduil graciously offered to see to Thorin’s burns. I do not know why Master Bard is still here.”

               When looked to, Bard shrugged. “Well… there was a baby dragon,” he said, as if that explained all. And really, Bilbo had to admit, it did.

               Nori just nodded with a sigh. “Right,” he said before turning back around, the door closing neatly behind him, leaving not a trace of its existence. If listening closely enough, you could hear footsteps stomping away and a grumbling dwarf within the walls.

               Bombur stuck his head into the room from where he had set up in a very dusty kitchen (apparently the royal quarters had a conjoined sitting room with an attached kitchen that Thorin had suddenly remembered after being lit on fire, it had been Bilbo’s idea to move everything there). “It’s not much, but I’ve got dinner,” he proclaimed with a humble smile. He and Bofur had managed to get a fire going in the larger fireplace there, making it easier for Bombur to make a somewhat edible stew.

               “Do we have anything suitable for Bella? I’ve been giving her cram mashed with a bit of water, and I’m worried it’s not right for her stomach,” Bilbo questioned Bombur, having only thought about it. He couldn’t very well raise his child on cram, it wasn’t nearly nutritious enough for a growing body.

               Bombur looked to be in thought for a moment before suggesting, “We’ve got some jerky, still?”

               It was Thorin who shook his head this time, though the action did cause a twinge of pain that had Thranduil and Oin glaring at him for. How dare he try to ruin their hard work?! “She’s got ripping and tearing teeth,” the dwarf explained as he stood without bothering to look at the healers. “Not chewing teeth. Would be best if we could get her something raw, I’m certain.”

               “She can’t eat raw meat!” Bilbo was stunned at the very idea of his little girl eating anything raw. “It could upset her delicate stomach!” When all in the room turned to give him a deadpan stare, he huffed and crossed his arms.

“She’s a dragon, Bilbo,” Dwalin pointed out. “They’re sort of known for eating everything raw.”

               “Well, we don’t exactly have any at the moment,” Ori pointed out from where he lounged against the larger dwarf. “So it’s more a question of ‘what do we feed her until we can get her raw meat’.”

               “You could always pre-chew her food,” Bard pointed out. When eyes filled with horror turned to him, the bowman just rolled his eyes. “Plenty of mother animals do it for their babes before the things can eat on their own, it’s not strange, it’s practical.”

               Glancing to the tiny sleeping form on Bilbo’s head, Thorin sighed. “If it comes down to it,” he grumbled, clearly unhappy by the suggestion. “For now we’ll let her sleep and see how she feels in the morning.”

               As dinner was passed out amongst the Company and their two guests, conversation began to dwindle as all focused on eating.

               “We have plenty of food in our camp,” Thranduil finally admitted, though it looked as though it pained him to do so. “Perhaps… we can make a compromise.”

               “Compromise?” Thorin questioned, putting his emptied bowl down.

               Thranduil nodded. “The Men from Laketown need shelter until their home can be rebuilt. The gold is, of course, generous, but it cannot put a roof over their heads before winter sets in,” as the elfking spoke, Bard and Thorin looked at each other, both realizing the king was correct. “Should you be willing to allow the Men shelter in your mountain, I am certain my people and I can find some way to keep all of you plus your newest addition fed.”

               Thorin began to nod, understanding the value of such a deal. “We will of course pay you,” the dwarven King returned. “Your generosity is more than welcome, however.”

               “We will truly be forever in your debt, Thorin Oakenshield,” Bard murmured, his voice slightly choked.

               “It is I who am in your debt, Bard,” Thorin corrected. “We may not have meant to, but we unleashed a dragon on you and yours, and it was only your arrow that stopped it. Truly, we are all indebted to you and your bravery.”

               Bard turned to look as all eyes turned to him, respect and admiration reflected in each, even in Thranduil’s grudging eyes. “I…” Bard muttered, feeling a sudden tingling behind his eyes. He quickly lifted a hand to press firmly against them, not wanting to humiliate himself in front of those who were quickly becoming allies. “Thank you,” was all he managed to grind out, teeth clenched.

               Thranduil stood and walked to the Man, laying a delicate hand on his shoulder. “Bard, it may be hard to understand this right now,” he began, refusing to look anywhere but the one before him. “But you have saved not only Erebor and Laketown, but the Greenwood, as well. I have no doubt the great worm would have turned his eyes toward our forest next, and it was only by your courage that he was unable to. Should you ever have need of anything, you must only ask us.”

               All looked away when Bard curled into himself, shoulders shaking, allowing the Man the time he needed to collect himself.

               “Well,” Bilbo looked about at the rest of their companions. “We may not have much, but you are welcomed to stay the night.”

               Thranduil quickly shook his head. “We must return to our encampment,” the royal elf hummed. “As it is I am sure our people are wondering what has happened to us. However… feel free to come by tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

               With that, Thranduil helped Bard to stand and made their way out of Erebor, their gifts tucked safely away and hearts lighter than they had been in many years.

-ǂ-

               Thorin had brought Bilbo, Fili, Balin, and Ori with him when he had descended from the mountain, Belladonna sitting proudly on top of his head.

               “It’s the very best spot for people watching,” the little dragon had claimed when offered other modes of transportation. “I also blend in quite well with adad’s coloring.” No one pointed out that her sweet little pink nose made her fairly obvious atop the raven-maned dwarf, as she seemed so pleased with her attempt at camouflage.

               “We are here to see Bard and King Thranduil,” Thorin told the guards posted at the elven encampment. Inclining their heads, the warriors allowed him and his to enter the camp, where tents were being taken down in preparation for their move into Erebor. In anticipation of it, Thorin had set all the dwarrow who had not come with them to work clearing the entryway, leaving Kili in charge. While his younger nephew had been put-out by the idea that he would not be able to go with his uncle and brother, being put in charge of Dwalin had lightened his mood considerably.

               “Why must you torment me like this?” Dwalin had grunted before the party left.

               “Thorin!” Bard called, waving madly when he spotted the party. It was Sigrid who stomped on his foot and told him, “King. King Thorin,” very firmly.

               “Just Thorin is fine,” the dwarf assured the young woman, laughing softly. “After all, your father’s rank matches my own.”

               At the bewildered look from the Man, Thorin deadpanned, “You are the heir to Dale, Bard, and Bilbo told me you had ambitions to rebuild it. Dale traditionally always had Lords, but as Dale will now be a small kingdom including Laketown, that status is upgraded to King.”

               Nodding in bemusement, Bard lead the party of dwarrow, hobbit, and dragon to the head tent that was being broken down even as they entered.

               “Am I a King now?” the Man asked Thranduil, who stood regally in the tent.

               A raised brow and a fairly sarcastic, “No, Bard, a kingdom is lead by a Viscount.” He shook his head in irritation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bard still looked quite shocked at the news and quickly found himself a chair to sit in.

               “We have begun to pack and are preparing to move to Erebor,” Thranduil informed Thorin. “Will you be ready for our arrival?”

               “I cannot say for sure,” Thorin admitted. “The gates were heavily damaged, and though my Company is currently working on them, I cannot say for sure when they will be fully finished.”

               Thinking for a moment, Thranduil seemed to come to some sort of conclusion. Walking to the entrance to the tent, he (somehow regally) stuck his head out and muttered a few things to the guards posted there. When the elf had scampered off, Thranduil returned to his position. “I have sent some of my men to join your own. Their instructions are to listen and help in whatever way they might.”

               “Thorin, Kili is in charge there,” Bilbo quickly reminded the king.

               “I will see to it that my brother does not abuse the privilege,” Fili graciously offered, bowing elegantly before the gathered royals. “I would hate to see his antics cause strife to our new allies, least of all to the elves of Greenwood after our previous encounter.”

               “Go, then,” Thorin softly ordered his nephew. Fili stood and swept from the tent, his movements precise and swift. Bilbo noted that Thranduil looked quite impressed with the young dwarf, and the hobbit couldn’t help but think the blond would soon have the elfking eating out of the palm of his hand, if he kept being so effortlessly considerate of the elves.

               “He’s good,” Bilbo muttered as he leaned closer to Thorin. The king smirked at him like he had planned the whole thing. It made Bilbo wonder if he somehow had.

               “I see you have a little passenger, Thorin,” Bard chuckled, seeming to have finally come out of his stunned reverie. “It is wonderful to see you again, Lady Belladonna.” The Man bowed deeply before the dragon, who wiggled to sit up straighter and let out a happy little trill.

               “I approve of the Man. He may serve me,” she left her fathers know, causing both to laugh softly.

               “She is thrilled to see you again, too, Bard,” Bilbo translated.

               Balin, however, coughed slightly, looking meaningfully at Thorin, who rolled his eyes at his old friend. “I am sorry to interrupt, but my advisor would be thrilled if we could begin discussing the alliance,” Thorin smirked at Balin, happily laying the blame at his feet.

               Thranduil and Bard, however, shared a worried look.

               “I am afraid we have other things to discuss,” the elfking admitted. “My son, Legolas, came back early this morning from scouting, and he has most worrying news. Not only do we have an army of orcs and goblins led by Azog, but it seems Bolg had recruited his own army, as well.” Glancing worriedly towards where he knew the enemy to be gathering, he shook his head. “Bolg had brought orcs from Gundabad.”

               Thorin’s eyes widened in horror. “Dain’s army should be here before the main horde,” he thought aloud. “It will greatly boost our numbers, however…” With a long pause, it seemed Thorin was considering his best options before finally settling on his final decision. “There are high quality weapons and armor inside Erebor. I don’t know that we have any made for Men or elves, but I am willing to let you take what you need.” Starting to pace and ignoring the looks of shock from all but Bilbo (he was smiling quite proudly at his love), Thorin continued with his train of thought. “The most advantageous place for the archers will be from high points in Dale and the ramparts of Erebor, what’s left of them, at least,” the last part was grumbled as Thorin remembered the damage dragon fire had done to the outside of his beautiful home.

               “We will station an even mix of elves and Men there,” Thranduil agreed easily. “My people have more than enough weapons and armor, but Bard’s people are woefully unprepared for this sort of fight, they’ll be the ones most in need of the weapons and armor.” Bard conceded the point with a weary but hopeful nod.

               “King Bard, if you’ll come with me, we’ll see to just that,” Balin bowed slightly to the man, indicating the status that Bard now carried.

               “Lead the way, Master Balin,” Bard agreed easily. Whether he was ignoring it or just hadn’t noticed the title, Bilbo didn’t know, but the two quickly left the tent, Ori following quickly behind Balin’s footsteps.

               Thorin glanced at Thranduil, a small frown tugging at his lips. “You are willing to risk your men for this, Thranduil?” he asked softly.

               Thranduil looked down at the dwarf, his face purposefully blank. “Thorin Oakenshield, even I understand what will happen should I not pledge my people to this,” he admitted with a soft tone. “Better we make our stand here with allies, than die alone and as cowards in our forest. While our victory is not assured should I allow my people to fight, our demise could not be more certain should I retreat.”

               A new level of respect was obvious in the way Thorin inclined his head to the elfking, knowing Thranduil would never allow his people to fight in anything but the most dire circumstances. He had lost too many elves in too many wars to be anything but over cautious.

               “Your father would be proud.”

               All heads turned to Gandalf, who stood in the doorway with a smile on his lips.

               “Gandalf!” Bilbo cried, rushing up to the wizard. “Where in the world have you been?”

               “Oh, many places, my dear Bilbo, many places. Now, how are preparations for the war coming?”

-ǂ-

               It was the next day by the time Bilbo and Thorin were able to pull Gandalf aside so he might inspect the newest member of their party, who was now astride Thorin’s shoulder instead of his head.

               “By my beard,” Gandalf rumbled, inspecting the little dragon closely. “And here I had thought you all had died off in the First Age…” he shook his head with a chuckle. “Radagast will be thrilled with the news that your kind yet survive, Belladonna! He was quite fond of the smaller dragons, as am I,” he added the last bit with a wink.

               Bella trilled softly, basking in the wonderment that Gandalf so graciously lavished on her. “Adad, please inform him that I would be most delighted to meet one who appreciates me as he does,” Bella happily tells Thorin.

               “She would be happy to meet him,” Thorin translates for the wizard.

               “Oh, I can hear her as well, dear boy,” Gandalf says with a grin. “Though I’d say few still remember her language, she’ll learn more of them as she grows.”

               Bilbo perks up. “You know more about her, Gandalf?” he asks eagerly. “Please, do tell us!”

               “I know of her, Bilbo,” Gandalf clarifies. “Radagast would know more than I, by far. He’s always been the most in touch with animals, out of us all, and had a deep appreciation for the smallest of them. What I can tell you is that her species of dragon was always somewhat rare in Arda, small as they were. She’ll only grow to about…” The wizard looked around. Spotting Legolas, he motioned the elf over. Looking quite relieved to be able to escape Fili’s flirting attempts, he was quick to respond. “Ah, Legolas’ height.” Gandalf reached up a hand to motion to Legolas’ head.

               “Though I doubt she’ll be as fair as him.” Legolas hung his head when he realized Fili had followed him. “So, what is it you do for fun?”

               The trio laughed as Legolas fled from their presence, Fili giving his uncle a wink before speeding after him in hot pursuit.

               “Ah, young love,” Gandalf chuckled. “I imagine Thranduil will not be pleased, but not much pleases him!”

               “He’s actually grown quite fond of Fili,” Bilbo told the wizard. “He’s going to be quite the diplomat when he’s older, charmed Thranduil without so much as realizing he what he was doing!” At Gandalf’s shocked look, Bilbo pointed to the bandage still wrapped around Thorin’s throat. “Bella lit him on fire, Thranduil offered to help Oin with the damage, having experience with treating dragon burns,” the hobbit happily explained. “Bard ended up joining us, and we’ve had a good, open dialogue with the two since. You’ve missed quite a lot, you know.”

               At the hobbit’s mischievous smile, Gandalf chuckled once again. “I knew bringing you along was a good idea,” he rumbled. “Now, as for young Belladonna, her species was called the Stone Dragons, for they laid their eggs among gems and stones as to hide them. I should have known from the first moment I saw that blasted Arkenstone that it was one of their eggs.”

               “You’ve said they died out in the First Age, how were you to know?” Thorin offered.

               “No, no, it’s not just that,” Gandalf shook his head. “Dragon eggs have a most humorous way of effecting those around them, and each races feels it differently. In Men, the eggs inspire wariness and distrust. In elves, a covetous love and possessiveness. In dwarrow, greed and paranoia. In hobbits…” At this, Gandalf faltered, looking down at Bilbo. “Well, I’ve never rightly seen a hobbit interact with a dragon egg before.”

               “I mothered it,” Bilbo admitted softly. “I felt… like I needed to watch over it, take care of it. I made a flower crown for her egg.”

               Thorin and Gandalf both turned soft, caring smiles on him, though Thorin’s eyes held such adoration, Bilbo ended up having to look away. Bella jumped from her adad’s shoulder to her papa’s, and nuzzled him happily.

               “Of course,” Gandalf said. “I should have known. Such a kind people, to love even a creature crafted of darkness. I have no doubt Belladonna will be the mightiest of her name, knowing her parents.”

               “There’s only one thing bothering me still, Tharkûn,” Thorin admitted. “The gold that Smaug lay on should still be cursed with dragon-sickness, but neither I nor any who approach it feel any such evil from it.”

               “Now Thorin, you’re her father, I’d think that much would be obvious,” Gandalf chided the dwarf. At the blank look he received, the wizard huffed. “The moment she was born, the mountain and all within it became Belladonna’s, as Smaug was no longer there to contest it. If there was one thing Stone Dragons were known for, besides their delightful size,” Bella preened once again under the wizard’s compliments. Bilbo couldn’t help but think the wizard wouldn’t be very good for her ego… “It was their ability to dispel all traces of other dragons upon their hoards. They were highly coveted due to this. You feel no curse upon the gold because it is no longer Smaug’s hoard. It is your daughter’s.”

               Turning wide eyes to their little girl, she merely stated, “I told you I like flowers and gold.”

               “And she’s already taking after you!” Gandalf said with glee. “Though that’s much to be expected. Dragons learn about the world around them through the bond formed between them and their parents. Though it is not a full mind-reading capability, young dragons draw on surface memories and feelings from their parents, allowing them to learn about the world without risking themselves by going out into it before they are old enough. Dragons were always Morgoth’s crowning achievement, no matter the destruction they wrought.”

               Thinking for a moment, Gandalf let out a slight laugh. “It surprises me Thranduil did not know what your newest addition was,” he told them. “When he was but a lad Thranduil read of Stone Dragons and demanded his father, King Oropher, find him one! Being the indulgent father he was, Oropher searched high and low for a Stone Dragon egg, but could find none. I found him, one day, scaling a cliff in an attempt to reach what he believed to be a Stone Dragon nest. He was very unhappy to learn it was merely a hummerhorn nest! He came down covered in dust, dirt, and multiple insect bites! When he told me exactly why he was doing what he was doing, I suggested he see Radagast, but he firmly informed me that nothing Thranduil desired could be worth all that he had been through.”

               Bilbo and Thorin began chuckling at the idea of a little Thranduil demanding his very own pet dragon. It did fit his image.

               However, it was now that Gandalf began to become serious. “Thorin, Bilbo, I know you are aware of the foe that marches towards us,” he said. “And while I appreciate that you would never abandon your comrades, Bilbo, you have a bit more than just your own safety to think of.”

               Glancing to his shoulder, Bilbo held out a hand for Bella to step onto. She gracefully did so, turning to look up at her fathers. Thorin wrapped a careful arm around Bilbo’s middle, pulling the hobbit close to him.

               “Gathêl,” he murmured. “I need you to stay safe. I will be able to fight without worry if you and Bella are safe behind Erebor’s walls, with those of Laketown who cannot fight.” Bilbo nodded reluctantly, knowing that it would be far safer to stay in the dwarrow stronghold, where temporary shelters and healing tents had been set up by the elves and Men alike.

               “At least take the mithril you gifted me,” Bilbo grumbled, tugging on the chainmail that lay under his coat.

               “I will have armor crafted in the great forges of Erebor before its fall,” Thorin told him, shaking his head. “It is armor I have worn before, and I know its strengths and weaknesses. Your mithril will be of more use to you than I.”

               Turning fully to his dwarf, Bilbo looked at him with pleading eyes. Bella quickly took a cue from her papa, and turned wide, sad eyes up at her adad. “Please, Thorin,” the hobbit pleaded. “I will not be on the battlefield, and it frightens me to think what might happen to you without me…”

               Unable to resist the two before him, Thorin heaved a great sigh. “For you,” he said with hesitation. “I will wear it.”

               Giving Thorin a relieved smile, Bilbo leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon his lips. “Thank you.”

-ǂ-

               “Bella!” Bilbo cried out, Sting held tight in his hand. Oh, it was all going wrong! The orc army had arrived earlier than they had expected, before Dain’s army, and they had lost many before the Lord of the Iron Hills had managed to surprise the advancing enemy with a flanking attack. He had been with Kili and Legolas on the battlements, having been given a crash-course in archery, when Legolas had spotted something he did not like. The elf had elegantly jumped from the balcony and landed without so much as breaking stride, leaving Kili and Bilbo wondering what in Arda had just happened.

               Kili, however, was quick to shove his bow into Bilbo’s hands and jumped after the elf, landing a bit awkwardly but uninjured and following the bobbing blond head in the distance.

               Bilbo had been forced to retreat inside as orc archers had taken aim at those of them still with arrows, many of the enemy arrows finding their target. Those who could rushed inside, dragging the wounded with them and leaving the dead for later.

               It had been at that moment that Belladonna had decided to make her first flight.

               “Adad!” she cried loudly, seeing something in the far distance. Her little wings had pumped furiously as she had lifted off, darting away fast enough that Bilbo could not grab ahold of her.

               “Bella!” the hobbit had screeched as his daughter falteringly flew off, dipping and diving and making quite the target of herself.

               Not knowing what else to do, Bilbo had thrown himself from the battlements. He found himself lucky enough to land atop a goblin, snapping the poor things neck. He couldn’t honestly bring himself to regret it as he slipped on his magic ring and began rushing furiously after his daughter, worry clouding his judgement.

               He watched his little girl fly high towards Ravenhill, where Bilbo could just make out two forms battling on the icy river. Knowing one of them had to be Thorin, for it was her adad that Bella was worried for, he pushed himself to his very limits, slashing at any enemy that stood between him and his family.

               Now, he stood, body unable to move, as Bella threw herself in Azog the Defiler’s face, claws and teeth tearing at any flesh she could reach. As if in slow motion, Thorin and Bilbo were forced to watch their dragon be torn from Azog’s face by a meaty fist and thrown harshly to the ice. With a little mewl upon impact, she went still.

               Neither Thorin nor Bilbo were very sure what happened after that, it was all a mess of red and ice and fury and despair, but it ended with Azog’s body laying in one spot, his left arm in another, and his head fully missing.

               “My baby, my baby,” the hobbit sobbed, having dropped Sting some time ago. He fell to his knees and quickly pulled little Bella to his chest, tears falling without restraint. Thorin was draped over the hobbit, the hand that did not still grasp Orcrist moving to cradle Bilbo’s own, a mocking repeat of how they had held their little girl when she was born.

               “Bella, bannith,” Thorin choked out, looking distraughtly down at the stilled form.

               It was only when Bilbo brought her close to his chest that he felt a flutter of words against his mind, nothing coherent, but it was there. Thorin must have heard it, too, for he was immediately on his feet and rushing to get Sting.

               “Let’s go,” the King hurried his hobbit, pulling Bilbo up. “I’ll clear the way, follow me!”

               They found, however, little need for Thorin to clear the way. It seemed, upon Azog’s defeat, the enemies forces had panicked and begun to flee. Mounted elves rushed past them, obviously in pursuit of their retreating enemies. Hurrying forward, Thorin and Bilbo eventually made it to the healing tents, calling quickly for Gandalf and Thranduil.

               The latter arrived first, looking quite annoyed, until he saw the little form that rested in Bilbo’s arms and the looks of devastation the two parents sported.

               “This way,” the elfking quickly ordered them, walking quickly through the tents set up inside Erebor, forcing Thorin and Bilbo to jog to keep up. Arriving at the largest tent amongst the sea of cloth, Thranduil threw the entrance flap open to reveal Bard (he was sitting reclined in a chair, his splinted leg elevated and a bandage covering the left side of his face), Dain (he was holding a clean cloth to his chin while a healer tried to wrap gauze around his head, fighting against protests the whole time), Balin (his right arm was in a sling and a bandage was wrapped tight around his left thigh), and Gandalf (the only one besides Thranduil unharmed).

               “Mithrandir,” the elfking hissed. “I thought you were supposed to keep an eye on them.”

               Gandalf looked around the blond to see Bilbo, tears having made tracks through the blood and grime on his face, cradling their smallest companion against himself. Moving swiftly, Gandalf bade the hobbit to lay Belladonna upon the large table in the middle of the room, which held a map that had been used to try and establish some sort of battleplan before they were surprised. Laying his child down gently, Bilbo whimpered when the little dragon twitched in pain.

               “You will heal her,” Thorin wasn’t asking a question, he wasn’t even demanding the wizard do it. It was a statement of fact that the dwarf was unwilling to believe was impossible.

               “I will do my best,” the grey wizard conceded. Reaching over the tiny creature, his hand began to glow with a strange power. Bilbo grabbed Thorin’s hand, and the dwarf responded by wrapping an arm about his love and pulling Bilbo to him. Bilbo went willingly. All in the room watched in worry (aside from Dain who was just confused), as Gandalf hovered the hand over the still little dragon.

               Slowly, the glow of his hand faded and all held their breath. The wizard let out a large breath. “She is stable,” he murmured, turning to Bella’s parents. “It is the best I can do, for now. I contacted Radagast when I learned of the child, he will have a much better idea of what to do. But that is only if she does not recover on her own before then.”

               Bilbo sniffed and nodded, reaching forward and taking Bella back into his arms. “My brave little girl,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

               “She saved my life,” Thorin admitted.

               “She saved many lives,” Bard mumbled. When Thorin and Bilbo turned to him, startled, he clarified, “A tiny dragon flying overhead distracted many orcs and goblins, but because she was already known to us and the elves, none of us were taken by surprise. It allowed us to push the enemy back, away from the injured and the doors to Erebor.”

               Bilbo gave the man a watery smile. “She will be so gratified to know it,” he sniffled.

               “Your mithril also saved my life,” Thorin told the hobbit softly. Looking to his dwarf, the King smiled sadly. “Azog managed to get by my defenses and made to run me through. The mithril is all that saved me, just before Bella came to my rescue.”

               “I told you, you needed it more than me,” Bilbo grumbled. “Imagine what our little girl would have come upon had you not worn it…”

               “So, is anyone going to tell me ‘bout this tiny dragon?!” Dain finally demanded, the healer finally storming out of the tent after the red-headed warrior had won his battle to not be treated.

               “Oh, she hatched out of the Arkenstone,” Thorin told his cousin with a shrug.

               “…she what?!”

-ǂ-

               Thranduil had been worried about his son, but a much-subdued Kili had reported to his uncle then and told those gathered that the elf was mostly unharmed (he’d have a nasty scar on his arm from where Bolg had managed to slash him, but that was it) and was holding vigil at Fili’s bedside. When Thorin demanded to now what was wrong with Fili, Kili looked as if he might break apart at that very moment, tears squeezing past his defenses.

               Needless to say, the two had rushed from the head tent to see Fili, Thorin beginning to panic. First his daughter and now his nephew… Bilbo had taken Thorin’s place at the meeting, trying to distract himself from the injured dragon curled in his arms.

               Dain was still processing the information that the Arkenstone had been a dragon egg and was now shattered, but he seemed to be functioning well enough, all things considered. Balin reported that the majority of the Company had mostly bumps and bruises, however the healers weren’t sure if they could save Dwalin’s right arm, Bofur had lost a foot due to a blow from an orcs mace shattering it beyond repair, and Nori had been sedated so they could treat his stomach wound. They would all survive, however, and that certainly lightened Bilbo’s heart.

               Thranduil and Bard both admitted they had lost fewer people than they had feared, and Dain had told them he had lost very few of his own thanks to the help of the elves and Men. And the Great Eagles and Beorn, he added after a moment of thought. The two other rulers agreed whole heartedly. Bilbo, however, was left to ask when they had arrived to help.

               At the incredulous looks of the others, Bilbo had pointedly looked down at the bundle in his arms. He had gotten a collective “Ah” of understanding after that.

               Some things were more important than a war.

               When it became clear there was very little the group could do until things had calmed down and they could each take stock of their living, injured, dying, and dead, Thranduil called a halt to their meeting. Looking down at Bilbo, the king suggested they look for young Fili’s tent, and Bilbo had easily agreed. Gandalf had trailed behind them, looking here and there to see if there was more he could do. Eventually, he apparently deemed himself needed elsewhere in camp, for when Bilbo looked back, the grey wizard was gone.

               Fili’s tent was easy to spot, it turned out.

               A despondent looking Legolas was stationed out front, arms crossed over his chest, hair a mess, and clothes bedraggled. Noticing his father and Bilbo approaching, he looked up sadly at Thranduil. “Bolg threw him from a tower before I could get to him,” he mumbled, leaning into the embrace Thranduil pulled him into. “He grows on you like a fungus. I’d rather not see the pest dead.”

               Bilbo, personally, heard the undercurrent of fondness to the elf prince’s voice. Apparently, Fili had actually managed to endear himself to both father and son, however unwilling the latter may have been to it. Lightly patting Legolas’ good arm before he went inside, he gave the elf what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Holding Bella a bit tighter, the hobbit ducked inside to see Thorin and Kili on either side of Fili, each holding one of the prince’s hands.

               “How is he?” Bilbo softly asked Thorin when he made it to the king’s side.

               Shaking his head, Thorin leaned sideways to rest again Bilbo. “Not good,” he confessed bitterly. “The healers said he has a fractured spine, along with a severe head wound. They’re not sure he’ll ever wake up.”

               Kili flinched at the words, curling closer to his brother with a soft whimper. “He’ll wake up,” he asserted with force. “He wouldn’t leave me behind.” After a moment, he added in a soft voice, “And he wanted to get to know Legolas seriously, so he’s got to wake up for that.”

               A soft whimper could be heard from outside, letting Bilbo know Legolas had heard the younger prince’s words.

               “He would never leave you behind, Kili,” Bilbo assured the dwarf. “He loves getting into trouble with you too much for it.”

               Kili gave Bilbo a small, grateful smile, before resting his head beside his hand that held Fili’s, eyes watching his brother closely for any sign of improvement. Stepping forward, Bilbo carefully laid Bella on the pillow beside Fili before stepping back. At Thorin’s look, Bilbo shrugged. “They’re both seriously injured. I don’t know if they’ll be aware of each other, but if they are, I hope it brings them comfort to know they’re not alone.”

               Thorin smiled softly at Bilbo. “I hope you’re right.”

-ǂ-

               Somehow, Radagast arrived on his sled pulled by rabbits two days later, looking even more wild than before (Thorin had hollowly told Bilbo he didn’t honestly think it possible). He then demanded to see the little dragon he had been told of at once, making Gandalf cackle with laughter.

               “It has been quite some time since I’ve seen you so spirited, old friend!” the grey wizard chortled.

               “You have had nothing for me to be spirited about,” Radagast had replied snidely. “Now, where is the little dear?”

               Bilbo had brought Bella into a tent that had been set aside just for her, where Radagast, Thorin, and Gandalf waited. When the brown wizard made to take her from Bilbo’s arms, the hobbit very nearly bit the poor man! “She is my daughter, I say who holds her,” the hobbit snarled fiercely.

               Gandalf chuckled at the baffled look sent his way. “I told you a hobbit would make an excellent father to her,” he retorted. “You’ll never find more protective parents than those that reside in the Shire.”

               With a firm nod, Bilbo placed Bella on the tiny bed that had been built for her by Bofur during his recovery, with the help of Bifur. It was sat on a table in between two dwarf-sized cots that Thorin and Bilbo slept in, keeping their daughter in sight at all times. Radagast stepped up beside him, and his staff lit up as he began to slowly wave it over Bella.

               Anxiously waiting, Thorin stepped up and grasped Bilbo’s hand tightly. The hobbit looked over at his dwarf gratefully, knowing Thorin was just as worried as he was. For long minutes, they waited.

               Finally, with a huffy sniff, Radagast stepped back. “Now just how was she injured?” he demanded when he turned, eyes narrowed. “I can’t imagine allowing such a young creature onto a battlefield,” the implication was enough for Bilbo to begin to lose his temper, rage pouring from him in heavy waves.

               “Aiwendil!” Gandalf boomed, slamming his staff on the ground harshly. The shadows around the room seemed to shift and grow, power flowing off of the grey wizard as it was the air he breathed. “You will make no such accusations when you are unaware of the events that happened!”

               Radagast seemed to shrink back at that, looking apologetic, and the shadows receded to their normal state once more. With a satisfied huff, Gandalf motioned for Bilbo to tell his tale.

               “Okay…” he muttered warily. “Well, Bella was with me when the battle began. We were safe up on Erebor’s ramparts, acting as absolutely terrible archers,” at Thorin’s attempt to deny the accusation, Bilbo shook his head, “Darling, I am completely aware of my own limitations. Legolas saw Fili in trouble and fled from the ramparts to reach him, and Kili ran off just behind him. It was only a moment later when Bella called out for Thorin and took flight.”

               Thorin wound an arm around Bilbo’s middle, easily taking over the story. “She’d never flown before,” the dwarf clarified. “We were under the impression that she would still need much time before she would be ready to, so it was a complete shock to all of us. She came to my rescue, I was locked in battle with the Azog, and he very nearly took my life before Bella flung herself into his face, biting and clawing wherever she could reach…” Thorin trailed off, obviously too busy blaming himself to continue the tale.

               “That’s how I found them,” Bilbo took over again. “Only… Azog grabbed a hold of her and threw her to the ground. She didn’t move after she hit the ice…” Both hobbit and dwarf reached out for their little girl, covering her with gentle hands filled with love and warmth. “We got her to Gandalf as quickly as we could, and he helped her, but she’s yet to wake up…”

               Bilbo could feel the tears threatening to spill once again, and held all the tighter to the dwarven king beside him in order to stop it.

               Radagast seemed to consider the parental couple before him, eyes narrowed as he took them in. Apparently deciding something, the brown wizard nodded and began to rifle through the various pouches that hung off him.

               “A bit of this,” he offered forth a small vial of sky-blue powder. “Mixed with water and she’ll soon be right as rain.”

               Bilbo and Thorin stared at the vial for a moment, hesitantly taking it before looking to each other. “I’ll get the water,” Thorin breathed before he was racing from the tent and Bilbo was scooping up his daughter in joy.

               “Oh, thank you, Radagast,” Bilbo babbled. “Thank you so much, I don’t know what we’d do if she never woke up, she’s so precious to us, and she saved so many with her bravery, least of all her adad, just knowing she’ll be alright is such a blessing!” The hobbit ended in a soft hiccup, not caring of the happy tears that decorated his cheeks.

               “Got it!” Thorin barreled back in in a rush, followed quickly by Thranduil, Bard, Dain, Balin, Dwalin (minus an arm and somehow more intimidating for it), Ori, Bifur, Kili, Legolas (he was carrying a wakened Fili as the elf had taken to doing recently), Gloin, Oin (who came bearing a syringe for the administration of the medicine), Bombur, Bofur hopped in on crutches, Dori pushed Nori into the tent in a wheeled chair (the thief had been ordered to not move if he didn’t want to open his stitches and die; Dori had taken the orders seriously and had not left his brothers side), and a confused-looking Tauriel who had somehow gotten mixed up in the stampede to see the little dragon awaken.

               Pouring the powder into the tiny cup of water, Thorin carefully mixed until the water had taken on a blue tint. Oin offered up the syringe, which Thorin took happily and pulled the mixture into the container. Opening Bella’s jaws carefully, Thorin slowly dribbled the concoction into her mouth, making sure she swallowed each mouthful.

               Once they were done, all seemed to lean in to see if it would work.

               And sure enough, a little yawn stretched Belladonna’s jaws wide open, and her blue eyes flickered to life. After a small stretch in her papa’s hands, she lazily laid back down before taking in all those around her. She blinked a few times as realized how many had surrounded and were now staring at her.

               “…did I miss something, papa?” she asked sweetly.

               Sobbing with a wide smile, Bilbo and Thorin wrapped themselves around her, pressing soft kisses to wherever they could reach, leaving the little dragon to whine and protest that she was very much not in need of such things while Thorin mumbled she very well was. A collective breath was released in the room as the final member of the Company joined the world of the living.

               “Does that mean you are cousins with a dragon?” Legolas seriously asked the dwarf in his arms.

               “…I reckon it does!” Fili delightedly exclaimed.

               “We have a cousin who can breath fire!” Kili shouted, jumping up and down in excitement next to his brother and his brother’s elf. “This is going to be so much fun!”

               Legolas thought for a moment. “Well, it certainly does make you more interesting,” he teased the blond whose interest in him had failed to wane.

               Said blond grinned widely. “Another reason to add to the list of reasons why you should allow me to take you to dinner some time!”

               The gathered company groaned at the old, teasing argument, all fully aware that Legolas was only telling Fili no because he was a contrary creature. Even Thranduil was beginning to tire of the back and forth, not caring if his son did end up with the dwarf at this point, just wanting it to end.

               “Well, she’s looking good,” Bard grinned from where said elfking was helping him stand.

               “My little girl,” Bilbo cooed. “My darling little girl.”

               “Never do that again,” Thorin growled once the two fathers had parted, holding a stern finger out to Belladonna.

               Although she pouted, Bella nodded her understanding that she was not to place herself in such danger again. Relieved, Thorin leaned forward, letting the tiny dragon push her head against his.

               “You will be a handful, won’t you?” Bilbo asked with a sigh and smile.

               Turning to her papa, she flicked out a tongue as she told him, “Undoubtably.”

-ǂ-

               Belladonna flew in lazy circles above the royal couple as they made their way towards Dale, watching the world around in a dazed twirl of elegant night and stars. Her papa had called the little silver speckles that had appeared on her as she grew ‘freckles’, but she much preferred her adad’s name for them: a blanket of stars.

               “Bella!” Bilbo called upwards. Glancing down, Bella slid into a dive and landed softly next to her parents. At ten years old, she stood just below the ponies her fathers were seated on, and eagerly awaited her next growth-spurt. If she grew enough, she might be able to carry her papa and adad to the Shire, a place she had yet to see but had been promised a trip to. She’d hated seeing her papa leave her and her adad behind so soon after she had awoken from her injuries, but Bilbo had assured his little gem that he would be back in a few short months, he just had a few things to sort out back in the Shire and then he’d be home again.

               In retrospect, it was probably not the best idea to leave Bella with her cousins and without her papa’s strict control of their antics.

               Erebor had been smoking when Bilbo had returned, and not in a ‘newly-lit-forge’ sort of way.

               “Do you want to go in with us to see Bard or are you going to continue down to see Tilda in Laketown?” Bilbo asked her sweetly, reaching down to stroke the scales atop her head. The dragonet preened under her parent’s ministrations, pushing up against the hand in glee.

               “I’m actually going to see Legolas and Fili in Mirkwood,” Bella admitted with a draconic grin. “I want to help plan the wedding of the century!”

               “I don’t believe I ever would have imagined it,” Thorin admitted with a chuckle. “Mirkwood and Erebor brought together through marriage. And by my own nephew, no less! I’m certain they’ll appreciate your expertise on flowers, my debez.”

               With a short trill, Belladonna took a running start and leapt into the sky, crowing loudly as she gained speed and height. She did so love to fly.

               “You think we’ve done alright?” Bilbo asked his husband softly.

               “Well, she’s happy isn’t she?” At Bilbo’s nod, Thorin smiled. “Then that’s all that matters. Come, Bard is expecting us.”

               With that, the King Under the Mountain and his Prince Consort made their way into the city of Dale, minds still on their dragon daughter as she pinwheeled through the clouds of her home.