I wish I owned the Hobbit but I don't. If I did all these dwarves would be content and living. But they're not. And I don't want to think about that.

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Prologue

It was Dori who found her first. A dwarf prided on being on time, he was never late for anything. Including life. Next came Nori, as he always did and then - five or so minutes later after the argument was done between the brothers - Ori would toddle up. Usually the argument was about Nori's wild ways. How he liked to pickpocket the townsfolk until all three brothers had to leave or be chased out with pitchforks and torches. How Dori needed to stop babying Ori because he was becoming a sniveling little twerp. Common and always ending in a stalemate.

This time it was centered around a baby in the bushes, found just outside a human village.

"She doesn't have a beard," Nori whispered urgently, poking the babes cheek and sending her into a sniveling mess. It was a motion stemmed from his deep panic. Although he had certainly seen babies before, he didn't particularly like to get close to them. After growing up with a brother like Ori, things with chubby cheeks seemed to be very breakable.

But he was a gentle dwarf through and through and the cry of a baby sent him into an even worse panic from before.

"Mahalu-me turg," Nori muttered, bobbing from side to side as Dori rocked the babe into hiccups and then slumber. Unlike his brother, Dori was in the constitute of all things soft and polite. He had soothed Ori and Nori from the fiercest fevers and wounds without so much as a flick of his beard.

"But she looks like a dwarf baby," Dori argued back, the tips of his stubby fingers running along the babies cheeks.

And it was true. She did.

She was sturdy, even as a baby anyone could tell. Her hair was too thick and willy and her body seemed to be too robust to suit that of a human, wizard, elf or such. Not to mention the fact that she fit perfectly into Dori's arms. Hobbits would be smaller and the rest would be too big like giant bobble headed creatures lulling from a dwarve's arms. No, she was definitely of dwarven heritage but there seemed to be something off…

"She doesn't have a beard," Nori whispered again more urgently this time, his fingers ghosting over her smooth chin and down over her arms and legs. No hair. And the mess of her curls was so red that it glowed through the night like dragon's breath. Dwarves didn't have hair this light - not any kind that either of the brothers had run across. And her eyes - emerald and clear. Not to mention the almost otherworldly white glow of her skin. Just like a-

"Elf," a thin voice said and both Nori and Dori jumped, whipping around to stare at their little brother, his clothes hanging from his shoulders in clumps. Yes. That was it. How could the smallest, youngest and most naive of them be the one to point out the obvious?

"But-" Dori began, dark eyes connecting with his brothers'.

"It can't-" Nori whispered back. Both of them turned to stare down at the bubbling babe, drool rolling down her chin.

It was. An elf. An elf that somehow had dwarven blood running through her veins.

"We can't tell Thorin," Nori said immediately pushing Ori away with a hand to the face as he tried to get a better look at the baby.

"What you speak is treason," Dori responded just as fiercely, flicking Nori in the face until with a soft curse he let go of Ori to swipe away his brother's hand.

"She's so pretty," Ori murmured, oblivious to the chaos around him.

"He'll find out sooner or later anyway," the oldest brother continued, rocking the babe as she gave a slight gurgle, her brows crinkling.

"Later preferably," the middle brother snapped, baring his teeth at his brother before a thought occurred to him and he turned away angrily. "Or more likely, never. She's not our responsibility."

"You would leave her to die?" The thought made all three brothers pause, uncomfortable and clearly shocked at the thought. Although Ori could not remember, Nori and Dori still felt the weight of all that they had lost. Home and family. Now they would let a life so precious wither away in the bushes of a human village. It was a disgusting thought that made their stomach's roll.

"Are you proposing that we take in a half breed? Kin to elves?" Nori whispered back, avoiding the question with a twist to his lips. There was suddenly a very sour taste in his mouth.

Between the two, Ori's eyes grew wide. He was by far the softest of the three brothers, feeling more at home with pen and paper than sword although life had even twisted him in ways. But this baby… His eyes fell on the chubby little thing, swaddled in a knit green blanket, her eyes closed and a mixture of drool and snot rolling down her chin. She was the softest, most adorable thing he had come across. And he couldn't bring himself to hate her.

"I-I cannot in good heart-" Dori started out stubbornly, the muscles of his arms tensing on instinct alone.

"Than we shall leave her with a not-so-good heart," Nori pressed, his teeth gritting.

"You can't," Ori whispered weakly, his hand reaching up to curl in the blanket.

But neither brother heeded him. This is the way of brothers - or at least, these ones. Ori was a pipsqueak and his voice was as soft as his nature.

"A human will-"

"A human raise a dwarf?" Now there was indignation is Dori's eyes, his shoulders raising and his brows knitting together.

"A human raising an elf," Nori clarified, his lips twisting even more as he moved to stare down at the babe sleeping soundly in Dori's arms. The thought was just as distasteful as bringing her back to the Blue Mountains.

"She's still a dwarf," Ori suddenly jumped in, his voice oddly steely. In all the time that Ori had lived he had only spoken this way to Fili and Kili. And even then it was rare and quickly stomped into submission by the two young princes. "Human's don't know what dwarves need to grow."

It was true. Neither Nori nor Dori had a single word to say in defense. Or - more precisely - if they did, they kept it deep inside, hidden from even themselves. For if they truly wanted to leave the babe, Dori would have never followed the sound of a sniffling wail in the dead of night. He would have never scooped her up and cradled her and smiled down at her. And Nori would have simply tossed her away like a disgusting tissue if he was truly opposed to the idea for he had no inclinations toward politeness when it came to these things.

"We're keeping her," Ori declared, grabbing up the babe and startling her into a fit of hiccups and wailing though he tried to cover it with a stiff nod of authority toward his brothers.

There were no words. Silence held thick in the air, broken only by the whisper of the village behind them. What could the two brothers say when they had never truly intended to let the babe starve or freeze or, even worse, be taken in by humans?

"Give her here, Ori," Dori finally sighed taking the wailing baby from his brother's arms. Which was all for the better since Ori's face was growing rather red, his mind racing with ways to quiet the child. "You'll shake her head off."

With that, Dori strode toward the village, his gate sure as he rocked the babe back into a quiet slumber leaving the youngest dwarf to stare after him in confused wonder. Were they keeping her? Ori didn't understand.

"Nainkhi, fahini," Nori said gruffly, the only sign of acknowledgment being a rough pat on the head as he followed after his older brother.

The discussion was closed. The first clear ending to a fight that the brothers had or would ever have. They would take the babe in and they would feed her and deal with the wrath of their king when they returned to the mountains. But for now she was theirs and they had nothing else to think about but her.

Khuzdul or the dwarven language:

Mahalu-me turg: Aule's beard. (Like our version of for fuck's sake. Kind of.)

Nainkhi, fahini: come, tiny.