A/N: Hello, people! This is my first fanfic, I hope you enjoy it. Longer A/N after the chappie.
Thorin turned about slowly, examining the trees around him. It was odd to be here, a dwarf among the trees; he could almost feel their disapproval. But something had stopped him, catching his attention and holding him back when he should be moving forward.
Perhaps it was the silence, the strange silence of the forest that was so foreign to the children of Aule, that had snared the dwarf. For there was a peace here that he had not felt since before the dragon. So, for now, Thorin would walk amongst the trees.
The forest was shining. Lit by the golden rays of a westering sun, the leaves glowed crimson, orange, and yellow, as fair as jewels. A light wind whispered by, causing the shining leaves to dance merrily, and Thorin felt an odd feeling stir in his breast.
He was no elf, to be thus enamored of the woods, but he could not deny that he could almost hear a gentle song threading through the living tapestry that surrounded him.
It was autumn, and the leaves were dying. Never would they be more beautiful than now, just before winter would come and they would be no more.
Bitterness vaunted itself in Thorin's soul, scattering shadows through his thoughts. So had Erebor fallen at its height, and now his people were wanderers and outcasts, staring into a hard future that offered no hope. The dwarves of the Lonely Mountain tried to stand as strong as stalwart as the trees, but they would fall and fade like the leaves. Their season was over; the line of Durìn would fail.
"My Lord Thorin!" The gruff, breathless voice of a dwarf broke the stillness.
Thorin turned and recognized one of his soldiers, though he couldn't place a name with the dark-bearded face. "Is something wrong at camp?" Thorin asked impatiently, concern lending his voice a sharp edge.
"Your sister, Lady Dìs—her time has come!"
Thorin burst past the other dwarf, moving with great urgency. Dìs had never borne a child before, and Thorin was afraid the nomadic existence they had been forced into would cause complications. Upon arriving in the sprawling encampment, Thorin didn't slow down, and caused many dwarves to look at him in bewilderment. After all, it wasn't every day that you saw the usually self-possessed dwarf prince tearing through the camp at a mad pace.
Winded by his sprint, Thorin pulled up in front of his sister's tent to find Balin smiling at him indulgently. Mustering his dignity, Thorin quirked an eyebrow upwards in a questioning manner.
"I'm afraid that you're late, Thorin. The child is here."
Disbelief and chagrin danced across the younger dwarf's proud features for a moment. "All is well, then?" He asked.
In reply, Balin stepped to the side and brushed the tent flap back with one hand. "Go and meet your nephew, Thorin."
Stepping inside the tent, Thorin stopped briefly to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. A pallet had been arranged in the center of the tent, and Dìs lay on it with a tired yet pleased expression on her face. Dark hair clung to her forehead in sweaty ringlets, making her face seem much too pale. Her husband, Nìri, knelt beside her, grinning broadly. Oìn stood to the side, holding a small bundle in his arms.
"Come, Thorin, quit gawking. Don't you want to meet my beautiful son?" Dìs asked gently teasing. Oìn stepped forward and held the bundle out to Thorin, his grim face lighting up with an unexpected smile.
Taking the blanketed babe in his arms, the dwarf prince looked down at the newborn in awe. Downy golden hair circled the tiny face like a halo, and bright blue eyes examined Thorin with surprising clarity.
"His name?" Thorin whispered quietly, running a rough finger down the child's tiny jaw line.
"Fìli." Nìri proclaimed proudly, giving his wife's hand a gentle squeeze.
Allowing a smile to creep over his face, Thorin held his nephew closer. Running his hands through Fìli's wispy yellow hair, the dwarf was suddenly reminded of the golden sunlight illuminating the leaves. His breath hitched in his throat and a strange mist burned in his eyes.
Hope had returned to the house of Durìn. Theirs was not the frail, dying gold of the leaves, but the gold that was dug from the earth and would withstand the ages. The dwarves of Erebor were a people who would not fail.
"Thorin?" Dìs asked softly, a concerned frown marring her serene expression.
"You should be proud, sister, he is a fine child."
"Tell me your thoughts, brother." Dìs commanded darkly.
"It was just a thought—nothing more." Thorin knelt by his sister, and brushed her hair back from her face gently. "All our recent days have been so dark. But now I have hope, Dìs."
The dwarf-woman accepted the simple explanation with understanding. "This child shall be strong like his uncle."
"No, he shall be strong like the trees."
And if any of the dwarves were confused by this strange statement, none commentated on it. Right now they would treasure this moment of hope, knowing it would light the dark days ahead.
A/N: So, whaddya think so far? Short, I know. The next chapter will be a little darker. Alright, I'm not terribly familiar with what went on after the dwarves left the Lonely Mountain, so I'm just kinda putting stuff in whatever order pleases me most. Purists don't get angry! So, what's the point of this fic, you ask? Well, I wanted to write a fic that basically explained how Fili & Kili ended up being the dwarves that we see in the movie and how their relationship with their uncle was formed. Expect lots of fluff, humor, action, and... stuff.
Next chapter, we see the aftermath of the battle for Moria and Kili gets born! Yay!