DISCLAIMER: Let's get this out of the way. I do not own or have any hope of ever owning the characters or happenings of middle earth. They belong to Tolkien and as far as I'm concerned he can keep them. For now. I do however, own my OC, Thia! So don't steal her. Please, feel free to leave any comments and/or questions that you may have. Follow the story in which ever way you would like, but make your thoughts known but be polite while you do it. Thank you!

CHAPTER 1

For what has to be the thousandth time in the past 4 years, I finish watching Lord of the Rings. Glancing to peak over the entertainment center, I see the clock blinks a steady 4:26 PM. Ejecting the dvd from the player and replacing it on the rack, I leave the den to check on my treasures. Nap time is just about over and if they sleep for too long, the night will be horrid. My bare feet make no noise on the hardwood floors and I momentarily stop to rub out a black streak across the glossy surface. 'Someone has been running in the house again.' Sighing quietly, I enter the nursery that isn't much of a nursery anymore, and peer into the small beds standing parallel to each other.

Theodore sleeps peacefully, his little chubby thumb is jammed into his mouth as is his habit. Reaching down and grasping his identification bracelet, I pull the digit out before stroking the curly brown hair adorning the crown of his head. I got one bracelet made for each child the day I decided officially on their names. Along with their own, rests mine and Thorin's. A soft rustling from my side alerts me to my other child's wakeful state. Switching my attention, I greet my daughter.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I tweak the three year old's nose as she yawns openly

"'Noon, Mama." I've no idea why they insist on calling me mama, since I've never encouraged it. I try to get them to call me 'mommy' but they stubbornly insist on 'mama'. It kind of reminds me of every ghost movie with kids in it, hanging onto some poor woman they mistake for their mother. Thoria reaches up for me to lift her, and being the softie that I am, I do "Food?"

"We can go make something." I agree, fixing her bed and walking from the room to let my son sleep a little longer. I had trouble settling him in this afternoon so a few extra minutes will do us both some good "We have to wait for Theodore to wake up first though to eat, alright?"

"M'kay." She answers swiftly before tapping her little chin "I think sandwiches are yummy."

"You do?" my face pulls into an expression of mock surprise "I concur. My favorite is Thoria meat!"

The child lives up to her namesake with the intensity she puts into all that she does. She can even pull a pretty decent glare, though it looks adorable on her. Be it play or work, she gives 100% of her energy. Folding the small girl into my arms, I rain kisses and nibbles onto her soft cheeks as she squeals in delight. Though extremely happy and playful children when it's just the three of us, the twins are notorious for being frighteningly reserved in public. Thoria can usually be coaxed into playfulness but the same cannot be said about Theodore.

Rarely does he speak to anyone other than his sister or myself; choosing to softly whisper to us in Khuzdul rather than plain English. Not that he cannot speak my native tongue, as he understands everyone just fine; he simply refuses to do so. I didn't teach either twin the language of their father, since I don't know it, they just... knew it. Just as they knew Common, though they rarely have a need to use it.

While Theodore's rejection to being an active part of this world worries me, I can only hope he grows out of it though the odds seem slim. He's what you would call an 'old soul' if you believe in that kind of stuff; stuck in his ways and unwilling to change. Setting Thoria down on the tiled kitchen floor, I set about pulling some cold cuts, bread, and the works from their respective places.

"Mayonnaise for me, mustard for Theodore, relish for Thoria-"

"Thory, Mama." The toddler corrects with a pout, preferring her nickname over her birth one "I'm Thory."

"Mommy, Thoria. I'm mommy." I tease and she rewards me with a fierce pout. I give in this one time and call her by her preferred name "Relish for THORY."

"Thank you."

We begin preparing sandwiches on the large wooden table set that my younger brother, Leo, gifted me when I moved into my own place. While he doesn't believe my story about my other worldly travels, he loves Theodore and Thoria with a passion. My immature baby brother grew to be one of my biggest supporters after the twins were born. A low whine of distress has me cleaning up spilled relish without even having to ask what is wrong.

My babies are wonderfully well mannered, I see to it that they are, but even the most disciplined child is still a child. I've had my fair share of sleepless nights, broken dishes, and dirty faces. Nothing compares to the double feedings though. As much as I loved the experience, I was ready to stop way before they were. At five months, I wanted to bottle feed them but they stubbornly held on until they were nearly a year. Even then the weaning process was a fight. They wouldn't move past the stage until they were good and ready.

I smile at the memory, casting a quick glance at the dark haired girl as she gently lays the meat on the bread before lifting and adjusting it to her liking; her tongue stuck between her lips in concentration. Feeling my gaze, she turns and blinks her mitched/matched eyes, one of the only features she really shares with her twin, at me curiously. The hazel is clearly my own but the icy blue… that's all Thorin.

"You look just like your father." I blurt out, poking her cheek

"Papa?"

"Mmmm." I could never think of a good story to tell the pair; feeling that if I told the whole truth and they grew up without seeing undeniable proof, they'd think I was lying or worse. Crazy. Still, I couldn't keep Thorin totally out of their lives and I often showed them the photos I had developed off of my phone along with the edited versions of the stories. The reminder of the dwarf causes me to bring a hand up to my heart where my scar remains "Oh Thorin…"

"Your boo boo hurts, Mama?"

"Just a little bit." Not wanting to worry the little girl, I kiss the top of her head and push her in the direction of her room "I'll finish up here. Go wake Theodore, please."

"…Yes Mama." Even as she does as I ask, I can hear her soft mumble as she goes "THEO."

With a chuckle, I begin again on the task before me. I start putting away the items as my chest fills with sadness. Even though it has only been 4 years, it feels like a lifetime since I last saw the love of my life and it HURTS. Every day is like a tally being carved into my very soul. If it weren't for my family, I would have sunk into the deepest hole I could find and never come out. However, with their help I finished school early despite toting newborn twins around. I found a job I could do from home so I wouldn't have to leave them, got my own place, and when they were old enough, I set the toddlers up in sports and music clubs.

The last was a desperate attempt to try and get them to speak more with other people. 'Not that it really worked for Theodore.' Thoria clearly got her energy from her father's side and both are too stubborn for their own good but that's neither here nor there. There is something... different about them though, different from other children. Being the oddball that I am, I can only hope Theodore didn't inherit my avoidance of people and Thoria stays her bubbly self. Still, they are both active in their fencing class and can each tinker on one stringed instrument relatively well for their age.

In my neck of the woods, with the extra money I saved up I was able to get some of my scars removed recently. Compiling Smaug's, Azog's, and the scar from the twin's C-section, I was beginning to look like a rag doll that'd been torn and sewn up again too many times. Giving birth to a dwarf is apparently horribly difficult, and near impossible when there are two of them. And that's what they are, without a doubt. Yes, they share a few of my characteristics but they are dwarves through and through. Other than nearly having my heart explode from the strain of giving them life, I can't say I mind their race. In regards to the scars left behind though... I still have a few sessions to complete but as of now my torso holds three dark but flat lines; evidence of what once was but not nearly as violent as they used to be. I didn't touch my heart scar however. That... I won't allow myself to forget or fade.

Yawning once again tells me that I am no longer alone. Facing the kitchen portico, I find Theodore rubbing his eyes while Thoria skips to the table, pulls herself up, and chows down after a quick prayer. Good girl.

"Good afternoon, sleepy head." I greet, tussling his soft hair. Like my own, it curls and snags easily enough if you let it "Sleep well?"

"Yes, Mama." He answers, sleepily leaning against my legs as he pushes his hair out his face "It's time."

Using one of the hair ties I have handy, I set the boy in front of his snack before pulling his hair into two braids tracing his skull. My father hates that I let it grow out; he says it looks like I have two daughters. Still, I know how important hair is to dwarves and I try to uphold the traditions I'm aware of; trimming the coils of both toddlers only twice a year or so. It reaches the middle of their back, though with Theodore's being so curly, his only falls to the top of his shoulder blades. Pulling the braided mass of brown curls into a quick up-do, I frown as it reveals his birth mark on the top of his spine.

It's an abstract mark that can be seen as a circle and a pointy shape inside. Three triangles if you look hard enough. I would not have been so bothered by it if the same mark wasn't on his sister. After a little research, I found a symbol similar to what I think it looks like. It stands for 'Longevity' in Norse. Funny enough, thats the culture in which Tolkien borrowed many aspects for the dwarves from. Why two toddlers would have the symbol for lengthy lives is what, wishful thinking? Shaking my head, I realize my children are waiting for something. Backtracking, I reinsert myself into the conversation.

"For?"

"You return." A voice answers in what I always assumed was broken Westron "Now. You return."

Duke the dog patters into the room and pushes his head into my hand. I'm unsure how, or why, the pooch came back with me that day, but he's been with me ever since and I'm more than grateful. The children can understand him just as I could when I first met him, which lets me know that they inherited some variations of my gifts, though not all. Linguistics are a no brainer for them both; as they were born with Khuzdul along with common and then learned English and bits of Japanese (guilty pleasure) from me. Thoria was gifted with water protection and Theodore has the forest. Neither are overly strong (thank goodness), have died and come back (not that I've tested it), or experience bouts of heart ache (yet).

As for teleportation, I'm not sure. I can't 'jump' anymore, though it isn't totally gone, and I'm content with that most of the time. Neither seem to have an affinity for fortune telling but then again, my own wasn't too impressive either. Confused as to what Duke is talking about, I scratch behind his ears and ask for clarification.

"Mate." He yips, rolling his eyes as much as a hound can "Return to mate."

"Mate?" Duke did have a lady friend back at Beorn's, didn't he? But in order to return… My eyes widen in excitement "Duke… Duke, is it time to go back?"

"Yes." His tail wags, my excitement infecting him

"Oh my gosh!" Leaping into the air, I grab my kids and swing them in a tight hug "I have been waiting for this forever! Let me go get the bags!"

I have indeed been waiting to return but I haven't been waiting idly. I packed away things that I would need when I returned to middle earth. Things for my children and myself as well as gifts for my dwarves and hobbit. Putting the letters I wrote to my family, in the event of such of an occurrence, onto my bed, I locate my luggage. The bag is jam packed with objects but there is one thing I couldn't fit inside. Pulling it from the secret place, I attach it to my hip and rush back into the kitchen to find my children not waiting for me. In fact, they are completely gone.

"Duke?" I call, scared as to what has happened

"Pups go to cousin dwarf." He responds to my unasked question. No matter how many times I corrected him, he still calls them pups "You go to mate."

"Shouldn't we all go together?" Sure, I trust that Duke wouldn't allow the children to be sent somewhere dangerous but that doesn't mean I want them somewhere I personally didn't send them "Why must we be separated?"

"Speak with mate first. Pups not far." Is the only answer he gives as he comes over to my side "Ready?"

"More than ready." I reply, giving whoever is starting this roller coaster ride the signal that I am good to go "They had better be alright or I'm coming after EVERYONE."

I'm prepared as the floor drops from beneath me; closing my eyes and letting the universe rush around me. Duke whines in discomfort, whether from fear of the trip or my threat, I don't know. Somewhere between here and there, the canine disappears from my side, leaving me to continue on my own. It's only a matter of seconds before the falling stops and I land all Terminator style. Not sure of where I am, I peek open my eyes. I am inside a fashionably stone room; the smell of cool air greets my nose the way it only has in my dreams. It is however free of the dragon stench that coated it last time, for which I am ever grateful.

Light filters by way of candles and I instantly know we are in Erebor. Using the portion of my 'jump' that I have left, I 'feel' for my children, and breathe a sigh of relief that they aren't far. I giggle slightly when I notice the beginning of an actual 'jump.' Looks like the ole gift only works in middle earth. 'Typical.' Dropping my baggage, I follow the light, finding a small window to the outside. A quick look out the sliver shows that my location overlooks Dale; the bustling city, sleeping in the wake of pre-dawn.

Turning to leave, I stop short at the sight before me. Sitting across the room, in bed, bare chested, hand on the hilt of his sword, with a face that I'm sure matches mine in surprise, is none other than Thorin Oakenshield.

"What are… Should you not be… I do not…" None of his thoughts come out clear as I step towards the dwarf. His hair has more grays than I remember and his scruff has grown out to the long beard his clan his is named after but other than that, he looks exactly the same, if not a little tired "Thia."

"Thorin." I respond, voice quivering with emotion

"This cannot be." He mutters, quickly raising from the bed and closing the gap between us before running his rough hands along my face. I do the same to him, praying that it's not a dream. Engulfing me into his arms, I feel a calmness I haven't experienced in many years. "Thia. My sweet, sweet, Thia."

Fast. Everything is moving so fast. From the window we met in the center of the room to embrace. That soft reconnection is short lived; quickly replaced by a fire that burns the very clothes off our backs. From the center of the room, we move to the bed I'd so quickly forgotten even shared the space. All the while he whispers my name. Over and over and over again. And I chant his; pulling him close, refusing to let him go for fear of him disappearing on me once again.

Then we dance the way we've yearned to for years; twisting in each other's arms, trusting the other completely. Flames follow his fingers, scorching me inside and out as his lips singe me soon after. Crimson paths chase my nails along his back; his blood singing beneath the surface as I sing praises of my own. The dance is new and my body untried in the experience but there is no pain in our art as he shows me the steps I do not know. Soon enough I can meet his movements with ease and we desperately urge the other on; flowing with the push and pull of the moment.

We rid ourselves of the agony caused by years of separation; creating a beat for our own song. The world jumps, quivers, and shakes in response beneath us before it collapses in on itself but we pay it little mind. As the fire licks at our taught limbs, growing brighter by the second, a wave crashes over us. It drags our bodies out to the metaphorical open water where we watch the lights of the universe explode into a million possibilities. It lasts an exhilarating moment, only to return us to the bed of sand where we lay, sea foam lapping at our sides, and breathing heavy as the music finally ends. As I rest beside him, tangled in a mass of sweat and limbs, I can finally understand what it means to be 'happy as a clam.'

Hi guys! I'm back and ready for action! Lets get his show on the road, shall we? Thank you for returning to this story! Yes, though poetic, Thorin and Thia got down to the nitty gritty. I wanted to get it out the way since its long overdue. If you want a detailed account, you'll have to wait until a later chapter. I hope you liked it, tell me what you thought! Laters!