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It wasn’t that Fíli minded his uncle’s excitement, really, he was more than excited about Billa’s pregnancy himself. He didn’t mind the presents, nor the attention that his uncle lavished his wife with. Balin, who was just as excited about the prospect of a new little heir, had been complaining about the amount of council meetings Thorin had cancelled in the last few months in order to spend time with Billa and most of the court had been horrified when the king had suggested banning wine and dancing entirely until his niece-in-laws delivery (Billa had quickly made Thorin promise that he would do no such thing as deny the members of court their share of the fun just because she could not participate).
No, Fíli did not mind those things at all, in fact it warmed his heart that his uncle, who had not been entirely pleased with his marriage at first, showed so much love towards his wife and unborn child. But when Thorin had taken him aside in the third month of Billa’s pregnancy and demanded him to explain exactly what those noises coming from his and Billa’s bedroom last night had been, he had been more than mortified. His uncle had then begun to explain how being intimate might harm their unborn child and Fíli had clamped his hands over his ears just like he and Kíli had done when their uncle had sat them down when they were dwarflings and told them about the secrets of the body, as he had called it.
He appreciated the concern, truly he did, but to have his uncle banning him from taking pleasure with his wife was just too much. He had mind to tell his uncle, really he had. It was just that his uncle got this particular shine in his eyes whenever he looked at Billa, or talked animatedly about his nephews unborn first child to the ambassadors from Dale and Mirkwood (Fíli thought that he perhaps did it on purpose, because he himself quite enjoyed the look of despair on the elven emissary’s face whenever his uncle would begin a new tale about the babe). It was the same light that would kindle in Thorin’s eyes when he had told him and Kíli of all the splendours of Erebor during their exile.
So Fíli held his tongue, and so did Billa, even though he could tell that she almost wanted to scream when Thorin suggested someone be appointed to carry her around when she ventured outside of her room (We cannot have my dear niece falling or tripping can we?)
Fíli has trouble believing that anything so small and fragile and completely beautiful could really have come from him. The little boy is a wonder, even when he is screaming, and Fíli does not wish to relinquish his hold on the little one, not even to Billa who lies on the bed, tired and sweaty, yet more beautiful, and grumpy, than ever. But when it was the announced that the King under the Mountain was there to pay his respect, he quickly relinquished the child to Billa. His uncle walks in, clad only in tunic and trousers, both boots and coat missing.
“Where is he, let me see my grand-nephew!”
Fíli chuckles as his uncle shoves him aside so that he can get a proper look at the little new wonder. He watches fondly as his uncle is handled the child by a smiling Billa, at how careful his uncle is with the little boy he is holding in his rough hands.
“First Durin prince of his generation..” his uncle mumbles reverently, and Fíli can hear the tears in his voice.
“The first of many more, I shall hope!” a voice says from the door, and Fíli turns around and sees Kíli standing there, hair a mess and sleep still in his eyes. Kíli walks over and pats him on the back, before dragging him into a heartfelt embrace.
“Congratulations, brother.” He whispers.
Fíli smiles at him when they part, and he is thankful that Kíli does not tease him about the tears in his eyes, nor those on his cheeks. The baby makes a cooing sort of noise behind them, and Kíli steps forward to get a proper look.
“Can I hold him?” he asks, and Thorin instantly hugs the child closer to him. Fíli sighs, he would be lucky if he ever got to even hold his own son again before he came of age.
“Why not?” Kíli whines, “He’s my nephew!”
“And he is my grandnephew and you will stop acting like a child! You might upset the little one.”
Fíli sees Billa roll her eyes at the scene and he resists the urge to do the same.
“S’not fair.” Kíli mumbles while settling in the foot of Billa’s bed. He scowls at Thorin, who is rocking the baby from side to side while humming a tune under his breath.
“So, what are you going to name the little wonder?” Kíli asks. Fíli’s eyes meet Billa’s for a second, and he nods, giving her his permission. It was her idea after all, the name.
“Frerin,” She says softly, almost dreamlike, “Frerin, son of Fíli.”