The day that Kili was born, for Thorin, will always be the day he lost everything. His brother, his father, his grandfather, his sister's husband, and his sister. Dis had gone into labour early after hearing about not only her husband's death at the battle of Moria, but the majority of her family. She had died after the child was born, only having enough time to name him.

It was so different from when Fili was born. That day Thorin had felt a happiness he could not have expressed in words. The golden haired child had seemed to bring light into the world that was so dark and dreary. It was impossible not to love him. With Kili, who had dark hair and dark eyes and was born on such a dark day… well, Thorin had a more difficult time loving Kili.

It showed too, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Thorin did not seem to notice his folly, and how it had affected Kili until the child was already half grown. He remembers how it started: Balin had asked Kili who he wanted to be like when he was older.

Like Gloin, Kili had replied.

Why, Balin inquired with a puzzled look.

He has a very impressive beard, Kili said seriously.

That was how it started, because then Balin brought Gloin over to hear, but Kili had already had a different answer: "Dwalin is very brave to go without the hair on his head." And when asked why not Gloin anymore Kili said, "Beards are too much work. I do not want one." After that, someone would periodically bring up the question, and almost always Kili had a new answer, though one seemed to pop up continuously.

"Bofur. He makes wonderful toys."

"Fili is the best!"

"Balin: he can get Uncle to do things with just words."

"Fili is the best!"

Once he had even answered that he wanted to be a dog, because all they had to do was play and eat, but when asked the next day his answer was once again Fili. It took a while for the dwarves to notice that he never wanted to be like his Uncle Thorin. It took even longer for Thorin to notice.

It was raining the day he figured it out. It had been foggy and freezing in the morning—which at the time was just annoying, but when looked back on it seemed to foreshadow the realisation the King Under the Mountain would go through—that had evolved into a rain so cold that when it touched your skin it felt like ice. Fili and Kili, usually always clamouring to get outside, were spread out before the fireplace on a thick quilt with various toys surrounding them and one lone book. They had exhausted the toys early on and were now perusing the book—it had a lot of pictures.

Thorin had no work to do that day so he was relaxing in an armchair, smoking his pipe. He watched over his young nephews—Fili: twelve; Kili: seven—when Balin, Bofur, and Bifur came through the door.

"You might have knocked." Thorin commented.

"With that rain out there?" Bofur asked. "I wasn't about to wait on the porch when there was warmth inside."

"So lad," Balin ignored the talk of those around him and immediately zoomed in on Kili. "Who do you want to be like when you're no longer a dwarfling?" There was always a day's bragging rights if the kid said you, and this was perhaps why the game had continued even when it was realized that Kili never said he wanted to be like his Uncle.

Kili smiled wide, opening his mouth. "Fi—"

Fili whacked him on the back of the head and pulled his little brother by the ear so that he could whisper to him. Kili looked confused, maybe a little disgruntled and not a little indignant about being whacked and pulled about. Fili looked insistent. The other dwarves in the room just watched in confused silence.

Finally, Kili turned back to their audience. "Uh… I want to be like Uncle Thorin because… because… 'cause he makes wonderful swords!" Kili turned towards Fili. Fili nodded approvingly towards Kili.

That was when Thorin realized, though, that that was the first time Kili had answered that he wanted to be like Thorin, and that it wasn't sincere at all. He looked back on his memories of Kili and found that there were not many as there was with Fili. Thorin remembered earlier that year, just before Kili's seventh birthday, he had asked Thorin if Dwalin could show him how to use a bow, and Thorin had just nodded. It did not seem odd at the time that Kili had asked for Dwalin to teach him and not Thorin, and he hadn't understood the looks passed between his fellow dwarves when they heard. Thorin wondered how he could be so blind. Even for Kili's birthday he had had no idea what to get him, and was grateful when Dwalin and Bofur let him put his name on the bow and quiver that they were giving him. Then he had not gone to any of Kili's practices. All he knew was that he was progressing very well from when Fili would boast and praise Kili's skill. Thorin remembered Kili's face glowing at the compliments. And as Thorin watched his nephews wrestle playfully on the floor, he knew there was nothing he could do to make his youngest sister-son look at him with the same love and awe he held for his brother, nor even the same amount of admiration and respect he gave to Dwalin and Balin and Bofur and Gloin.

And Thorin could blame no one but himself.