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~~Cities of Men~~
It was first brought to his attention by Dwalin, of all dwarves, in the various cities of men they worked in for coin.
"You know, we make more when you come along." Dwalin pointed out, amusement clear in his tone. "Think it might have to do with all the wee ones that gather 'round you."
Thorin grunted. It wasn't his fault. Children of Men or no, they were still children and if they had questions about dwarrows or forging, well better they hear it from a dwarf than get an inappropriate response from their ignorant parents.
"Watcha doin' Mista Torin?" a little girl named Penelope asked.
Thorin smiled gently and lifted the kittle girl so that she could safely peer into the heated forge.
"I'm waiting for the metal to heat sufficiently so that I may bend and mold it to my will little miss."
She nodded seriously, "Mista Torin would you come to lunch with me and my mama?"
Dwalin choked on a laugh.
"I'm very sorry Penelope but I have much to do here. I will however escort you back to your mother to ensure your safety."
She squealed in delight and hugged Thorin around the waist.
"Oh! Mama, Auntie and Grandmother will be 'round later to purchase some of your kitchen and hair stuff." she said before running off to join her friends.
Dwalin smirked, "I told you."
~~Fili and Kili~~
With the boys it started as soon as they were born. They would cry for hours on end and would only quiet down for their uncle Thorin.
Of course Fili by himself wasn't so difficult to manage, Dis reasoned, but when one added in the cacophony that was an irritable Kili, well you couldn't blame her for seeking out her elder brother.
Dis stormed into Thorin's quarters where she found her brother snoozing by the fire.
Though he didn't stay asleep for long, "What fresh hell is this?!" Thorin yelled over the increasingly loud cries of his nephews.
"I can't do this anymore Thorin. Fili cries and Kili joins in, Kili cries and Fili begins anew. It is like some twisted song they have going!" Dis cried. She was absolutely exhausted, having a newborn and a five year old was detrimental to one's health.
"Now, it can't be that bad. Hand them over." Thorin ordered.
As soon as Thorin adjusted Kili in the crook of his elbow and Fili with his tiny head nestled in the crook of his neck, both boys quieted down and were soon fast asleep.
"Unbelievable. My children like you more than me." Dis muttered as she walked towards the door.
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"I need some peace! They obviously stay quiet in your presence so you can take them for the night!"
Thorin looked down at the boys sleeping in his arms and sighed.
"How in Middle Earth did this happen?"
~~Mirkwood~~
Thorin hadn't been locked in his cell for very long, surrounded by the shouting voices of his company when three little elflings appeared in front of his door.
"Hello Master Dwarf." the two boys spoke in unison.
Thorin glanced at them and then at the slightly smaller girl hiding behind them.
He sighed, he didn't want to speak to any elves but they were children. He could not force himself to ignore a child.
"What are you three doing here? The dungeons are no place for children."
"We've never seen a dwarf before and we wanted to know why all the dwarves are locked up instead of in the guest wing. Did you do something wrong? Is this a time out?"
Thorin heard Fili, Kili and Dwalin roar with laughter and sighed, again, for what felt like the millionth time. Why did children automatically come to him? Ori was just across the way and much friendlier.
"You should really run along now little ones."
"Oh!" they took a seat on the step outside his cell. "We forgot to introduce ourselves! I am Rhothomir, this is my brother Rhistel and our cousin Immianthe."
"I am Thorin Oakenshield."
"The Thorin Oakenshield?! From Erebor? We've all heard the stories of the Ereborean dwarves and their fight against the evil wrym Smaug, but why are you locked up here and not reclaiming your mountain?" Rhothomir asked.
Thorin proceeded to explain how they got lost in the forest and were attacked by giant spiders when their king's son captured them and the king imprisoned them; now they were losing hope of reaching their home by the appointed time.
"But you're just trying to go home!" Rhistel yelled tearfully.
"Oh no this won't do." Rhothomir muttered to himself.
"We'll talk to Grandpa." little Immianthe reassured.
~15 minutes later~
"You and your company are free to go Master Dwarf." the guard informed him as their cells were unlocked.
As they were marched towards the front gate, weapons in hand, Thranduil stopped Thorin. With eyes narrowed he said, "I don't appreciate you turning my grandchildren against me Thorin Oakenshield. You will regret this."
Thorin smirked.
As they left all that was heard was, "Bye bye Master Oakenshield! Good luck!
~~Tilda and Bain~~
By the time they reached Laketown, Thorin had pretty much accepted that no matter what he did or where he went, children would always gather around him. He didn't know how he felt about it but he accepted it.
So he wasn't shocked or even surprised that once he sat down the little girl and boy settled down right next to him
What surprised Thorin was that the boy child, Bain, was glancing at Thorin with something akin to hero worship in his eyes.
"Are you all warriors Master Thorin?"
Thorin glanced at the boy, "Yes I suppose we are."
"Not me" snorted Bilbo.
"Yes, we all are, except our resident hobbit."
As Bain continued questioning Thorin no one noticed when it started storming or when Bard entered their tiny abode completely soaked to the bone.
They did notice however when a massive clap of lightning flashed across the sky and little Tilda jumped off the floor where she was playing with her dolls and glued herself to Thorin's side.
"Tilda!" Sigrid gasped, "Sweetie if you're scared please come to me or father."
"No, I feel safe with Mister Thorin. I shan't move 'til the storm passes."
"I am very sorry Master Dwarf..." Sigrid began only to be interrupted by Thorin.
"It is of no matter. If she is comfortable and feels assured of her safety then I have no objections." He drove his statement home by lifting an arm and allowing Tilda to nuzzle further into his side.
~later that night~
"Is it always like this?" questioned Bilbo as he looked at Thorin fast asleep against the wall with an arm around each child.
"It is," answered Balin, "ever since before Ered Luin. He's always been protective of all children and extraordinarily patient; they in turn have always been drawn to him."
"And this doesn't bother him?" Bilbo chuckled.
Fili shrugged, "I reckon he's come to expect it and revels in it. Thorin simply adores children."
~~Fauntlings of Hobbiton~~
There was quite the uproar amongst the hobbits of the Shire when Bilbo Baggins returned from his adventure as Consort to the King of Erebor. Said uproar was caused mainly due to the fact that Bilbo returned to his family's possessions being auctioned off by his spiteful relatives.
While Bilbo yelled and raged at the people making off with this mother's West Farthing pottery Thorin was left to the whims ofbthe thirty fauntlings in Bilbo's front yard.
"Will you play with us Master Dwarf?"
"Of course I will, as long as Bilbo has no need of me."
Before Thorin could blink he was swarmed by tiny hobbits.
Bilbo hadn't heard from his husband for well over an hour and went looking for him. The sight that greeted him was so familiar that he wasn't even the slightest bit surprised.
Sitting under the old party tree was Thorin and quite possibly every fauntling in the Shire.
"We dwarves consume three meals a day, though we are able to go on less if the situation calls for it."
The children gasped, "But don't you starve? Aren't you always hungry?"
Bilbo laughed, "What is going on here?"
Thorin stood, "I am simply answering questions about dwarves."
The next day there was a knock on Bag End's door. Bilbo was still expecting ornery relatives; he was absolutely not expecting the Thain, his grandfather Gerontious, to come knocking before second breakfast.
"Bilbo, it has come to my attention by my very concerned grandchildren that Dwarves consume only three meals and will often go with less when needed. I find this to be unacceptable. No race should starve simply because they don't have proper knowledge of farming. We would be awful neighbors if we did not provide assistance. We will be available during luncheon to discuss trade between our races. Have a good morning lad."
With a nod and a smile trade negotiations between the Shire and Erebor were set.
"Unbelievable. He spends an hour with the children and trade options fall in his lap. Why can't he be this hospitable with the elves?"
~~Dwarflings of Erebor~~
Thorin was quite accustomed to exiting the council room to a small horde of dwarflings waiting for him. It became a method of stress relief to gather all the children (and Bilbo) and walk along the great halls of Erebor giving small history lessons, answering questions, and generally getting to know his youngest subjects.
Today's group was a little sparse, only consisting of Bilbo and two other dwarflings whose parents were still occupied in the mines. Since it was just the four of them Bilbo was insistent on offering up the Consort's Gardens that Thorin had gifted him whilst they were courting for the purpose of teaching two curious dwarflings about gardening.
After several hours of digging in the dirt and the rousing success of planting a peach tree, the children decided that their king needed a new hairstyle.
When little Durgol and Dola's mother came to collect them she found their consort collapsed in the grass shaking with laughter and His Majesty, King Thorin sitting under a tree signing documents with the children's hands buried in his hair.
"Dola, you're getting it all wrong! We said Master Bofur not Master Nori!" Durgol exclaimed.
Dola rolled her eyes at her brother, "No Durgol, you decided on Master Bofur, I believe King Thorin would look fetching with Master Nori's hair do."
Thorin laughed, "I've more than enough hair for you both to create whichever hair do you wish, all I ask is that you not try for Master Dwalin's bald head; but it seems that your mother is here to collect you."
Both children threw this arms around their king in a constricting hug. Dola laughed, "You are the bestest king ever King Thorin. Thank you for letting us play with your hair."
"You are both very welcome. Now run along, your mother is waiting for you."
Bilbo walked over to Thorin after the small family had taken their leave. "You realize that half of your hair is sticking upwards like Nori's bouffant and the other half is sticking outwards like Bofur's braid."
"Yes."
~~Frodo~~
It had been about six months since Bilbo bad received notice that his cousin Drogo and his wife Primula had drowned in the Brandywine River, and that their toddler Frodo would be sent to him as stated in their will.
It had been two months since little Frodo had arrived and not once had he been seen out if Thorin's arms. While the fauntling adored his Uncle Bilbo he simply refused to be parted from Thorin.
Bilbo believed it to be tied to an extreme sense of security; he understood, he also felt incredibly safe in Thorin's arms.
What Bilbo didn't know was that at least three times a week Thorin would take Frodo to the nearest river and was slowly teaching him to swim.
They had been working together constantly to help Frodo overcome his fear of the water. Thorin believed that giving the boy some sense of control would be more of a comfort than whispered reassurances after a nightmare. They had finally reached the point where Frodo would be attempting to swim on his own.
"Now Frodo there is no need to be afraid; you let go of the rock when you're ready and I will be right here to catch you."
Frodo looked petrified to be chest deep in running water but after a nod from Thorin, he took a deep breath and released the iron grip he had on the rock he was clutching to. He quickly assumed the position his uncle had taught him and made short work of the distance Thorin had put between them.
"I did it Uncle! I did it! I swam!" Frodo wound his arms around Thorin's neck.
Thorin spun him around, cuddled him close and planted a kiss on the crown of the young boy's head, "Yes mizimith, you did it."