A/N: I wasn't planning to publish this short fic on its own; I only wrote it as a companion piece to a Hobbit fanart I did a few months ago (which you can find in my DeviantArt gallery, username lilis-gallery). But some of you seemed to like it, so since I was updating my profile anyway, I thought I'd upload it here!
Please note that I'm not a native English speaker, and this text hasn't been edited by a beta-reader... I hope it's still okay!
Turning his eyes away from the orange flames crackling in the fireplace, Thorin Oakenshield focused on his two young nephews, who were still too busy planning their future to care about his presence. The night was already far advanced, but Fíli and Kíli didn't seem to be inclined to end it any time soon – their last night, Thorin thought with a hint of apprehension. The next morning, he would travel to the North of Ered Luin, to a meeting of their kin where envoys from all the Dwarven kingdoms of Middle-Earth were expecting him; as for Fíli and Kíli, they would soon set out for the distant Shire where Gandalf had arranged for them all to meet. The next time all three would sit down together around a warm fire and an ale, it would be in the far-off, unknown land of Arthedain, home of that Halfling the wizard had insisted on hiring as the fourteenth member of their Company. From there, they would travel East, to the Lonely Mountain, to treasure and danger.
Smaug. Thorin felt a tight knot in his stomach as he wondered, for the hundredth time, if he hadn't made a terrible mistake by asking his nephews to accompany him on his hazardous quest to reclaim Erebor. The two young Dwarves were not even of age, after all; and while Thorin knew Fíli was starting to become a responsible adult, Kíli on the other hand was but a child. Despite his immoderate taste for adventure and his naturally enthusiastic, reckless nature, he was absolutely not ready – no more than his brother, for that matter – to face the vast world that lay beyond the safe, familiar environment of Ered Luin, of which the boys had never crossed the borders. Dís had not failed to remind him of it a couple of hours earlier, as she had every single day since her sons had decided to accompany their uncle on his perilous journey. And though Thorin was well aware that Fíli and Kíli were more than determined to be part of the adventure – and that it would probably take physical restraint to keep them away –, he couldn't help feeling guilty. He was robbing his sister from what she held dearest in the world, taking her two children on a journey of which he couldn't predict the outcome, leaving her alone with her fears and worries. Of course, he had solemnly promised her he would bring Fíli and Kíli back home safely, but he knew deep down it was a promise he wasn't sure he would be able to keep.
Dismissing his grim thoughts from his mind, Thorin watched his nephews in silence. Sitting at the table, the two had been talking for hours, eyes shining with excitement, their words often punctuated with the bursts of laughter that were never missing from one of their conversations. Leaning over the old maps Thorin had given them earlier that evening, they were studying their route, comparing the different paths, trying to determine how long it would take them to cross the long distance between the Shire and the Lonely Mountain. They were talking about Erebor, of all the riches that would soon be theirs, of their new life in that kingdom they knew only through the tales and songs. Oh, how he wished he could share their optimism, the sheer, innocent enthusiasm that didn't leave any room for fear or doubt. How he wished he could still have that blind trust in the future, the blissful ignorance of the dangers of the outside world that his encounter with Smaug had put a brutal end to, so many years before. But he had already lived too many horrors, seen far too much death and despair. And now, he was about to drag his young nephews down the same path.
Maybe he was being irresponsible and selfish. Maybe he was leading his Company and his heirs towards certain death. But Thorin knew he would be lying to himself if he pretended not to like having Fíli and Kíli at his side. He had helped Dís raise the boys ever since they were children, and nothing or no one had ever separated them.
Whatever the outcome of their quest may be, Thorin swore to himself this time would be no different.