Fíli Durinson

The warm glow of the hearth filled the room, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of your home in Erebor. The sound of laughter echoed as your three sons sat in a semi-circle on the thick rug, their attention fixed on their baby sister, who lay cooing softly in her swaddling. Fíli sat nearby, his golden hair catching the firelight, a proud smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

The eldest boy leaned forward, his curiosity piqued as he gently touched the baby’s tiny hand. "She’s so small," he said, his voice filled with wonder. The middle child nodded in agreement, though his mischievous grin hinted at the teasing nature he often displayed. "Small, but loud," he added, earning a chuckle from Fíli.

The youngest boy, however, sat cross-legged with a pout, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He had been sulking ever since the baby’s arrival, struggling to adjust to no longer being the center of attention. "I don’t see why we needed a sister," he grumbled, his voice barely above a mutter. "You should put her back."

Fíli raised an eyebrow, his amusement evident as he leaned back in his chair. "Put her back, eh?" he repeated, his tone light and teasing. "And where exactly would you suggest we put her, lad?"

The youngest boy shrugged, his pout deepening. "I don’t know. Somewhere else. I was the baby first."

You gently placed the baby in his lap, carefully guiding his small arms to support her. His eyes widened in alarm, but he didn’t protest—at least, not immediately. The baby gurgled happily, her tiny fingers brushing against his tunic. For a brief moment, he seemed to soften, his curiosity getting the better of him.

But then, as if on cue, the baby decided it was the perfect moment to soil her nappy. The youngest boy’s expression shifted from cautious curiosity to sheer horror. "Ew! She’s leaking!" he cried, his voice rising in panic. He scrambled to push the baby off his lap, his movements frantic as he tried to escape the situation.

Fíli was on his feet in an instant, swooping in to rescue his daughter before she could tumble. He cradled her against his chest, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. "Easy there, lad," he said, his tone both amused and reassuring. "She’s not leaking—she’s just reminding us she’s a baby."

The eldest and middle boys burst into laughter, their mirth filling the room as they pointed at their younger brother. "She got you good!" the middle one managed between fits of giggles. "You’re not the baby anymore!"

The youngest boy, now thoroughly disgruntled, bolted to your side, clinging to your leg as if seeking refuge. "I don’t like her," he declared, his voice muffled against your skirt. "She’s smelly, and I don’t want to share."