A/N: Well hello there. So, I've been gone forever. Apologies. I've been working on original things (dragons and blacksmiths and ice kingdoms, oh my!) and I've been a little tunnel-visioned for the last six months or so. However, I got a lovely review on Follow On last night that rather kicked me in the inspiration (thank you so much, Guest. I'm glad you're enjoying it just as much the second time around :D). I think I'll try getting back into, if not an appendice a week, then perhaps at least one a month. I almost forgot how much I like writing in this world. :)

Anywho, Dwalin's Irony is for BCgurlie and wtrdragon who wanted some more things with children and Thorin babysitting. If anyone else asked for children things, too, here's one of probably many more for you.

Summer, S.R. 1349

"And what, precisely, do you think you're up to?"

Rather curly, blonde hair falling into his eyes, Thori cringed and wrinkled his nose in disappointment. He'd been so close. He was literally within ten steps of the stables and a pony all his own and freedom for the day! He'd had so many plans! Oh, what was the point of having to wait for a new brother or sister if their growing inside his mum made her slow enough that he could escape usually unscathed but he got caught anyway?

Plastering on an innocent grin that was a perfect echo of Kili's, he replied, "Nothing, Uncle Thorin. Hello, Uncle Dwalin. What are the two of you up to?"

The taller dwarf snorted in barely contained laughter and merely nodded in greeting to the little Dwobbit. Raising an eyebrow at his friend, Thorin found himself hard-pressed to keep his own mouth in a straight line. "Oh aye, nothing is it? Nothing wouldn't happen to include running away from your mother when she can't chase you and your father is in Mirkwood, would it? There wouldn't be, oh I don't know, the stealing of ponies or dropping water on Gimli from the second balcony over the gate included in nothing, would there?"

The four-year-old deflated visibly and blew the hair out of his eyes with a sigh. "Yes… It's just… Well, mum can't really play as much as she used to with the baby making her slow and da is gone for the next week and he said I couldn't come along this time because of spiders or something and Bofur is working today and Bifur is selling toys instead of making them which isn't as fun and it's summer and wonderful but none of the rest of you like outside as much as I do and…! It's not like I could get into that much trouble out by myself."

Fili fondly blamed his son's early eloquence—or at least proclivity for saying as many words as quickly as possible—on his mother blathering on in three different languages at any given time, but he knew that wasn't it. It was because Fili was his father. The blonde had done the exact same thing at such an early age, too.

At this point, Thorin was forced to elbow Dwalin, his bodyguard for the day, in the ribs to keep him from cackling aloud and giving the little one the wrong idea. He really didn't know what was so damnably funny about the whole thing, especially for Dwalin, but the sharp jab had him quieting enough that Thori didn't notice.

"And how do you figure that?"

If his grin from earlier was one hundred percent Kili, then the flat look Thori turned up toward his uncle was proof of just how closely his apple had fallen beside the Bilbo Baggins tree. "I have twelve uncles, Uncle Thorin. Twelve. One of you always finds me. I don't think mum even looks anymore."

That was true, but Thorin knew it was actually because she trusted the child to explore and discover things on his own. He had an entire mountain of dwarves who would look out for him, who knew him by name. She remembered being a happy, free, wayward hobbit child and loving it. She wanted the same for her children. He just also knew that she preferred it when Thori told her he was going off to explore instead of just 'escaping' when she wasn't looking.

"That's because she wants you to enjoy yourself, just if you ask first."

Stepping forward, Thorin grabbed his grand-nephew by the waist, tossed him into the air to get the frown off his features, and then settled him on his back as they proceeded toward the stables. "To answer your question, Thori, the two of us are heading to Dale for the day. We're meeting with King Bard about some things."

The blonde started bouncing excitedly, his age coming out despite his flood of words, "Can I come, too?! Please!"

"Yes, you can come, too."

"Oh, oh! Can I visit Miss Tilda and the bees? She always lets me have a little taste of honeycomb when I go see her. And can we go to the market? Mr. Bain took me to a stall last time that sells kites. I've never had a kite before. And-and can we see Mrs. Siggy's new baby. She said I could visit and practice holding Amelia so I had practice for when my little brother or sister comes."

With hardly a chance to answer Thori's questions as they came, Thorin just settled into wait until he was finished…or at least out of breath. He really was Fili's son. Whenever he muttered that truth to Poppy, she broke down into giggles and had to hide her smile behind her hand.

She'd suggested that perhaps this second child she was carrying would be quieter, but he really wouldn't mind if she turned out just as talkative as her brother—he'd put down some gold with Nori that it was going to be a girl. He was in the minority there, but he had a hunch. Dís had had cravings for savory, salty things when she was pregnant with both Fili and Kili. Poppy was constantly going for sweets this time around. She had with Thori, too, but not to this degree. He figured it was just the offset between Hobbits and Dwarves with their eating habits.

The girl could babble on as much as she liked. Thorin enjoyed having children to talk to him like Thori did, warmly and without fear or undo reverence. He was just Thori's uncle who played with him and tossed him in the air and with outward reluctance told him stories he'd heard a hundred times.

"My business is mostly with King Bard, but if his children aren't too busy we can visit all of them. I know he hasn't let Siggy return to running his hall all the time yet, so if she's not too tired she will probably let you go see the baby."

"Oh good."

Thori quieted for all of a few minutes as they greeted the stable hands and mounted. Dwalin still had his pony, Cinnamon, and when he thought his friend and nephew—it was far too complicated to know how precisely they were all related; they were just family—weren't looking he pulled a few carrots from his pocket and fed them to the animal. She nickered happily and nudged the dwarf in the chest affectionately.

Thorin and Thori shared a conspiratorial look and smile as Dwalin glared a little at the stable hand nearest him, making the lad look away, before rubbing the pony's neck.

Nodding to the dwarf who held his pony's reins, Thorin patted the white and black splotched animal's side as it greeted his nephew. Though not nearly to the same degree, on the whole animals were drawn to Thori just like his mother. Birds were rather more indifferent and the lad had to work to catch the rabbits he chased, but ponies and the dogs that the Men of Dale liked to keep were fond of him almost immediately.

The child giggled a little as she lipped at his hair and he asked, "What's her name?"

The dwarf replied, "Mereth. She's one of the ones your mother helped foul the year before last."

"I'm not surprised," he said somberly. "Mum is good with animals and babies of all kinds."

Though he again wasn't sure why, Dwalin started laughing from the next stall. At Thorin's raised eyebrow, he mouthed silently, 'He sounds just like you.'

Smile also on his mouth, the dwarf still holding the reins nodded, "Aye, little prince, she is at that."

"Alright," Thorin interrupted, "we're going to be late. Come and climb up."

Thori was very adamant that he could mount his own pony and had been since he met his first pony at age three. Thankfully, he'd only met with docile beasts who liked him and tolerated his antics so far. He'd inherited his mother's stubbornness. Using the bale of straw kept in the back of the stall, he climbed up first onto the wall and from there pulled himself onto the pony's back.

He settled himself in front of the saddle, tangling his fingers in the mane before him and prodded excitedly, "Come on, Uncle Thorin. Let's go."

Fighting a fondly exasperated sigh, he pulled himself on behind and took the proffered reins from the dwarf. Nudging the pony forward, he whispered to the dwarf while Thori started animatedly telling Dwalin all about the flowers he was growing in his little corner of his mother's garden, "Send a lad to Princess Annori and tell her the prince is with me."

"Yes, my king," he replied with another nearly hidden smile. "I'll send someone right away."

"Thank you." And with Thori still thrilling Dwalin with details of irises and marigolds and climbing the maple tree, they set off.

The plain between the mountain and Dale was fully back at its former glory, fields and stone roads crisscrossing the land amongst infant clusters of pine trees and firs. The road was its usual full and pleasantly noisy as they rode toward the town of Men. The people, both dwarf and man, stopped as they rode by and either gave small bows or curtsies. Thori waved at those he knew from his time spent either shadowing Bofur and Bifur in the toy shop or Dori in the Ri Brothers' trading store.

Leaving their ponies at the gate, Dwalin giving Cinnamon another hidden carrot, the tall dwarf put Thori up on his shoulders as they made their way through the crowds of the midday market. They parted easily as soon as they recognized who was walking among them, but it was still best to keep Thori up and secure.

Bard met them at the bottom of the stairs leading up to his hall with a smile and welcoming arms. He'd gotten a bit more grey in his hair in the last years, but he'd settled well into his role as king. There were whispers that he was even looking to perhaps remarry. There was a family of traders who'd come up from Rohan of all places to see what the newly established Men of Dale had to offer. The widowed matriarch leading them had become a close friend. Dwalin knew for a fact that Siggy was the leader of those urging her da to ask for her hand and find happiness once again.

But, that was not the reason for their royal visit.

Taking each of the dwarf's forearms in a clasp of greeting, Bard similarly squeezed Thori's little arm before noting, "I see Poppy sent an envoy on her behalf today."

"Without her knowledge," Thorin added, making Bard smile.

"I escaped," Thori declared proudly.

"Which is not something to be proud of," Thorin added with a bit of weight in his tone. "And you're going to apologize to her when you get home."

Still smiling, Bard ushered them inside and sent one of his doorwardens to fetch Siggy. The new mother appeared not long after the four of them settled in Bard's study, the large windows facing the river and lake beyond wide open. Dale was overall a much brighter, more pleasant city than Lake-town had been.

Amelia was passed around the dwarves gathered, cooing up at Dwalin with a toothless smile on her face, before Siggy settled onto a bench along the wall with Thori. The baby was almost too big to fit in his smaller arms, but the woman assured him that his new sibling would be much smaller.

Once again, Thorin was struck by how like his father Thori seemed. The look of awed bewilderment on his features was the same that Fili had worn when he held Kili for the first time. They would even be nearly the same age when Thori's younger sibling arrived. The awe quickly devolved into the two making faces at one another, Thori wiggling his pointed ears to make the infant reach out her little fists to grab at them and the braids in his hair.

And in that relaxed atmosphere, Thorin and Bard, two kings in Middle-earth, began to discuss their plans for the festival to celebrate the harvest coming in later in the autumn. If there was one thing that almost a decade of ruling as neighbors had taught them, it was to plan ahead as much as possible…especially when Thranduil planned on making an appearance.

Thorin acknowledged that a few of his advisors would be more than a little scandalized at how he conducted some of his business as king—in a study with a baby and his nephew nearby for starters. He knew that his grandfather wouldn't approve. But, the topics of the day weren't exactly those of life and death, war and peace, or anything of that magnitude. Formality had its place, but none of his immediate predecessors had managed quite so…amiable relations with their neighbors.

And more than that, he was a different sort of king than his grandfather. Thror had been a king who one loved and respected but never really saw except from a distance. Thorin liked that he could walk through Erebor without a full contingent of guards acting as a wall between him and his people.

Their talks and planning went easily enough, both having work to do on their ends. Fili would no doubt have further information when he returned from his visit to Mirkwood. Thranduil's steward, Merileth, was nothing if not thorough in her work.

Their business concluded and a small lunch had, Bard decided to escort them down to Tilda. The teenager had become the region's foremost expert on bees and she could reach her arm fully into the hive without worry of being stung at this point. She happily gave her da a hug when they arrived and, as hoped, she cut out a small taste of full honeycomb for Thori. He munched happily on it as she went about her work, answering his many questions as she did.

After Dwalin had a disconcerting run-in with a bee taking up residence in his beard, they retreated back toward the market. "Where do they sell kites? Mr. Bard, do you know where they sell kites?"

It had been explained to Thori a number of times that Bard was a king just like Thorin, but his Hobbit lineage had as of yet won out over Dwarf when it came to titles. Girls like Tilda were Miss. Girls like Siggy were Mrs. or Mistress. And all boys were Mr. or Master. It was really quite simple.

Another smile upon his face, Bard pointed toward a stall with kites of all shapes and colors hanging from it. "I believe that's the one you're searching for, Master Thori."

"Oh good. Thank you."

Laughing, he nodded to Thorin and Dwalin, "I have some more matter to attend to today. I'll take my leave."

A green and orange kite in the shape of a fish was picked out and Thorin was informed that he would be paid back as soon as Uncle Bofur paid Thori for his help in the toy shop again.

They were received back at the mountain without trouble and it was soon decided that the second rampart would be a perfect place to fly a kite. It would also be a perfect place to keep Thori in one spot so that his mother could come and find him.

Without much trouble, the kite was soon airborne, Gimli had been sent to find Poppy, and Thorin found himself flying a kite for the first time in his life. After not even ten minutes, Thori was napping deeply against his shoulder where they sat on the stone, the guards patrolling the walls smiling fondly as they passed every so often. He'd had a long day of escaping and adventuring and if Thorin remembered correctly, it was about his nap time to boot.

It was strangely calming, this kite-flying, the way the paper fish bobbed through the air as if it were swimming. It was still floating on its way, Thori having sleepily crawled into his lap at some point, when Poppy finally joined them. A look of extreme if affectionate annoyance was on her face until she fully took on the scene before her. Then she merely let out a sigh.

Using Dwalin's shoulder to help ease herself and her large belly down to the stone, she whispered, "I swear, all he has to do is ask and I'll gladly let him run about to his heart's content. But no, he sees the slightest sign of weakness that I can't run after him and he takes it. Stubborn boy."

Thorin smiled, "He's like Fili. He and Kili 'escaped' often, too. It drove Dis mad."

"Well, so did Bilbo and I, but one of us usually threw some parting words at our mothers before we disappeared," the hobbit replied, her face morphing into adoration as she ruffled her son's hair. He absently swatted at the feeling in his sleep.

Rather out of the blue, Dwalin began snickering again. Eyebrow raised after looking to Thorin and receiving nothing more than mutual confusion, Poppy queried, "And what's with you?"

"Oh, nothing, lass," he whispered, shifting his gaze to the plain before them. "Just basking in the irony Mahal has given me. It's a funny thing…how hard it is to keep track of hobbits in this mountain. I remember trying to keep you from 'escaping' your guard at every turn."

Huffing as both dwarves beside her started quietly laughing, Poppy turned and smacked his arm, "Oh, shut up."

Though he didn't voice it aloud, Thorin couldn't help but smile a little fondly at the irony that there he was, arguably shirking a few of his kingly duties to fly the kite of his grand-nephew, mothered by the very hobbit he'd tried so very hard to make go home. Even if Mahal had the stern humor of most dwarves, then his wife at least was laughing at how things turned out.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, review if the desire takes you, and I hope you enjoy. Here's hoping I see you all again soon. :D