(Thanks, Nonnie! She’s very proud of her new hardware!)

…

“Well, it’s not unheard of,” said Fris, examining the baby’s mouth with her finger. Little Dis scowled up at her, and gummed enthusiasically upon it in retaliation.

“I’m sure they’ll grow in their own good time,” Thrain said, and smoothed back the baby’s fine, downy-soft hair.

“Both the boys had their first teeth by ten months,” Fris fretted, and she wiped her finger absently upon her dress and bounced the little girl up and down with her other arm. Dis squealed, open-mouthed, and waved chubby fists in the air.

Thrain wasn’t sure what to say to that. Both the lads had been as textbook as they come, hitting each milestone as though ticking off a list. Thorin had been through the food-fussy stage right on cue, and Frerin had dropped his morning naps right on his first birthday.

Their little girl was proving to be made of a different metal altogether. She wasn’t interested in crawling at all, and preferred to pull herself up using her parents’ hands, the furniture, skirts, trousers, or whatever was closest. Then she would stumble around, holding tightly to whatever she’d found, until she sat down – bonk! onto her bottom.

Then she would holler.

“Well, she won’t grow teeth for our wishing it,” sighed Fris, and put Dis down upon her rug. The baby immediately scooted around on her bottom to face them and lifted her hands, an imperious expression on her tiny face.

Thrain half-smiled, half-sighed. “I’ve got it, dearest,” he said, and bent his (aching) back once more so that his daughter could move about the room on faltering feet.

…

“Ow!”

Fris was woken out of her sleep by a yelp from the childrens’ rooms, and she rubbed her bleary eyes as she sat up. “What in Mahal’s name,” she growled, under her breath.

Beside her, Thrain mumbled something that sounded very like, “lookitthedolly” and rolled over.

Fris resigned herself to being the one to get up this time, and put on her housecoat and slippers and padded down the corridor to where Dis’ door was slightly ajar.

Pushing it open, she found her middle child kneeling upon the floor, his hand cradled in his lap and tears in his eyes. In the crib, Dis was glaring, red-faced. She looked like she was getting up the energy for a really satisfying scream.

“Frerin, why are you in your sister’s room?” Fris asked, trying very hard to keep the weariness from her voice.

“I always come in,” Frerin sniffed, still rubbing at his hand. “She wakes up around now, I c’n hear her from next door. She likes it when I pat her hair. But she bit me this time!”

“Frerin, it is my job, mine and your father’s, to comfort your sister,” Fris said, kneeling down by him. “It’s your job to be her brother.”

Frerin pouted, big blue eyes watering. “But I c’d hear her!”

“Oh, my summer sunshine,” Fris said, running her hand over his sweet little face. He sniffled. “You’re a little boy, Frerin. I know you want to help her, but this isn’t the way. No wonder you’re so tired in the mornings. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Frerin looked away, and Fris stifled another sigh. Of course he would think of caring for his family before he thought of himself at all. “Show me your hand?”

He held out his hand, lower lip quivering. There was a bloody little indentation in the meat of the palm.

“Does that hurt?” Fris asked him, and he nodded vigorously.

“It’s all sharp! She’s never been sharp before!”

Fris blinked. “Sharp?”

In the crib, Dis finally opened her mouth and began to let out a truly victorious howl. In the centre of her lower gum was a tiny, barely-noticeable white line.