Chapter Text
Dwarves are practically infamously infertile. A bairn being born is a rare occurrence, and amongst those born, only 1 in 5 is born female. That is to say that a family with more than one child is exceedingly rare and highly valued. It is a great honor to have multiple children. It is unheard of for a dwarrowdam to have more than 3 children.
When Bella and Thorin married, they had no evidence that they would be able to have children. Who was to say that their species would mix? Thorin was unconcerned as it would not be unusual for a couple to have no children, and he already has heirs to succeed him. To Bella, however, this was an unacceptable outcome.
Hobbit homes are not complete without at least a few faunts running around. She herself was an oddity as an only child.
So Bella was bordering on smug 3 weeks after their official wedding when she cornered him.
“Thorin!” She yelled, pouncing on his back from the shadows of a corridor.
“Bella! Where are your guards?” He transferred her from his back into his arms, checking her over for injuries.
Bella shrugs in his arms and presses a kiss to his nose. Thorin sighs in defeat and internally debates whether it is worth the struggle to try another pair of guards. It’s not like any dwarf can truly get the drop on her, but as more dwarrow make their way to the lonely mountain, he would rather be safe than sorry.
“Did you have something to tell me, or do you just enjoy getting the jump on me?” He asks, lowering her to the ground.
“I do enjoy getting the jump on you, but also I have news.” She clasps her hands behind her back. “Can you guess what it is?”
“Likely not.” He crosses his arms.
“You’re not even going to try?” She raises a brow. “Fine, I’ll tell you anyway.”
She leans forward conspiratorially, waving him over. He lets out a low chuckle at his wife’s antics but leans down anyway.
“You, my dear King under the Mountain, are about to gain a new title?” She whispers in his ear.
He pulls away and looks down at her to see her beaming up at him.
“What have you overheard?” He knows her lightness of foot to be good for eavesdropping, but he didn’t expect her to find out something about him before he did.
“Not overheard. You, my dear, are going to forever more be known as Adad .” She turns on her heel and starts meandering away.
He takes a moment to process her words before rushing after her. He scoops her up in his arms, bringing them nose to nose. His eyes trail over her in his arms, and he can’t help the mad grin that spreads across his face.
“Could it truly be possible? Even with everything?” He whispers, awed.
“Yes. Thorin, I’m pregnant.” She smiles sweetly, pressing her forehead to his.
“It is a good omen for you to become pregnant so soon after the wedding.” He tells her.
“Oh, no. I was pregnant before the wedding.” She assures him, her face open and honest.
“What? How long have you been pregnant? We took precautions to prevent pregnancy before the wedding.” His brow furrows.
“Not when we bonded.” She reminds him. He takes a moment to process her words and do some mental math.
“But…but that means…” he sputters.
“I’ve been pregnant for 4 months, since that night at Beorn’s.” She cuts him off.
“But how? How could the bairn have survived all this time. You almost starved at least 3 times since then.” He cradles her face in one of his hands, still holding her weight in the other.
“Hobbits are known for having easy pregnancies. My mother was an outlier. Gandalf thinks that her issues came from a stab wound to the abdomen she sustained on one of her adventures with him.” She leans her head into his hand. “That’s likely why I lost so much weight during that time, my body was prioritizing the baby.”
“But that means…” he gasps, horrified. He wraps his second arm around her again, in a protective circle. As if his arms can keep away all the dangers she has already faced.
“I faced a dragon, Azog the defiler, and a war all while pregnant with a member of the line of Durin.” She smirks. “And you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle myself, I did all that carrying around another person.”
“I’m assigning you more guards,” Thorin grumbles. He starts walking down the way he was headed originally, with his wife still held in his arms.
“Good luck with that,” she chuckles, resting her head on his shoulder.
~~~~~~
“You need to lie down, lass,” Dwalin begs her.
“Do not tell me what to do!” She yells, continuing to pace around the room.
“Your body needs the rest.” The young dwarven healer by Oin’s side tries to reason with her.
“I’m sorry, are you the one with a babe inside you?” She snaps.
The two elvish healers in the corner seem content to watch the fighting.
“Oh, leave her be, she’s fine.” Primula Baggins groans from her place at the foot of the bed.
“She’ll need to save her strength for the rest of the labor.” The young healer persists.
Primula drops her head into her hands, groaning. Before he can give a retort, the door to the chambers slams open.
“I came as fast as I could.” Thorin pants, making his way over to Bella. “How are you doing, Ghivashel?”
He places a hand on her lower back and the other under her elbow, supporting some of her weight.
“I would be much better if some people,” she shoots a glare at the young healer. “Would stop trying to tell me what to do.”
“You will run out of energy before the bairn comes if you don’t rest now.” He asserts for the millionth time.
Primula roughly puts aside her knitting and stands up.
“Will you stop whining if I check her progress?” She demands.
He grumbles something unintelligible but doesn’t fight her on it. The two elves in the corner exchange amused glances. Thorin’s brow furrows, but he makes no comment.
“All right, Bella. Do you want to sit down, lie down, or squat?” Primula asks, walking over to the sink to wash her hands.
“I’m not getting on the bed.” Bella crosses her arms.
“Ok then. Standing or perched on a chair?” Primula makes her way over.
“I think I can perch on a chair.” Bella concedes.
“Thorin, bring over that stool. You can support her back. Hold her under the elbows like I taught you.” Primula kneels on the ground and makes her way under Bella’s skirts.
“Wouldn’t it be better to send the father out?” One of the elves asks.
“You would have me miss the birth of my own child?” Thorin growls, using his chest as a backrest for Bella.
“What use is he outside? At least in here, he can hold Bella. Honestly, I’ll never understand other cultures forcing their men out of the birthing chamber.” Primula scoffs. “She’s almost fully dilated. She has maybe another hour before the faunt will be with us.”
This causes the healers around the room to come to attention. Only 4 hours for a first-time birth? That was incredibly rare amongst elves and impossible for dwarves. Where before the room had been a relaxed sprawl of various races simply waiting for the right moment, now it was a flurry of movement.
“Really, the fact that you’ve lasted 3 hours is likely due to the fact that the faunt is half dwarf and it’s your first babe,” Primula muttered loud enough for the rest of the room to overhear.
“Do you need anything?” Thorin murmured into Bella’s ear.
“Why the hell are there so many people here again?” She turned her face up to his.
“Oin has been your healer throughout the pregnancy, you requested your cousin attend, and Lord Elrond sent some of his healers to escort her here.” Thorin reminds her, adjusting his grip under her elbows.
“And the idjit that’s nagging me?” She pointedly looks at Oin’s apprentice, who had been trying to get her to lie down.
“How was I to know the labor would be so short?” The young dwarf attempted to defend himself.
“He’s here to learn to not be an idjit.” Oin throws over his shoulder from where he is preparing some herbs.
She continues to glare at them as she rises from the stool and resumes her pacing with Thorin an ever present shadow by her side.
They finish another few circuits around the room when Oin hands her a mug of tea.
“This will help with the pain, now that you’re approaching the time to push.”
Bella grunts, taking the mug, slowly sipping at it as she continues to pace, rocking through her contractions.
The elvish healers, having been spurred to action by the news of the impending delivery, efficiently prepare linens and hot water.
Dwalin shifts in his position guarding the door.
“Yer maj, now that Thorin is here, would yeh like me to leave?” Dwalin gently asks from the door. The hulking dwarf is curled around his battle axe like a faunt’s blanket.
It’s a hilarious image coming from the normally stoic warrior. Who doesn’t blink in the face of the gore of battle or the scheming of politics, but flinches at a lass giving birth.
“No! You have to keep everyone annoying out.” Bella snaps as she rocks through another contraction.
Primula kneels under her legs, checking her process again.
“Then why did I let Thorin in?” Dwalin half-heartedly jokes.
“I’ll kick your hairy arse.” Thorin grumbles.
“We’re a bit busy.” Bella reminds.
One of the elven healers presses their hands to her stomach, feeling around for the babe.
“He’s turned well.” She reports. “And seems ready to join us.”
“Is it a boy?” Bella asks, bracing her arms on Thorin.
“We don’t know yet.” Primula drones, kneeling by Bella’s legs. Oin joins her on the other side with a fresh cloth in hand. The lad stands back watching the process.
“You don’t think I can give you a son?” Bella glowers into Thorin’s chest.
“I’ll be happy with anything, Amralime. As long as you’re both healthy.” Thorin whispers into her hair.
“I’ll give you a boy,” Bella vows, not out of any real need for a son, but out of spite.
Thorin is about to object, to cut off her line of thought, to do anything, but she starts pushing, and suddenly he’s focused on the more pressing matter at hand.
It’s only later, when his firstborn daughter is placed in his hands, that Thorin remembers his wife’s statement. He figures it was simply an adrenaline fueled wish.
He’s wrong.
——————
Thorin thinks he’s incredibly clever early in Bella’s pregnancy when he suggests that they name their girls after the hobbit custom and their boys after the Dwarrow tradition.
Girls are so rare that he would have naming rights for the one or two children they have. Anything to prevent their son from being named Bingo. Even if they manage to have a girl, the flower names are pretty.
He should have been suspicious of how quickly Bella agreed.