'Kíli …'

'I know.'

'Kee … this is … this is it.'

The two dwarves stood at the entrance to the hall. Piles of gold and treasure scattered the hall casually, as though they were nothing but food or barrels ale. Numerous other gems glittered and danced in the torchlight, sending hypnotising pinpricks of light against the walls. The air was musty, and there was a faintly pungent odour that neither dwarf could recognise, but could only be the remaining stench of the beast that had made this mountain his home for all those years.

Kíli drew closer to his older brother, a hand seeking Fíli's sleeve. He clutched the material tightly, his nails digging into the cloth. Fíli tore his eyes away from the riches to meet Kíli's eyes.

'Erebor,' Fíli murmured. His voice was shaking with emotion; he could hardly contain the wonder. We did it.

'Home,' Kíli corrected softly.

Fíli broke into a grin, and the brothers again turned to look out at their kin. Most dwarves were eagerly sorting through the piles of treasure – Thorin seemed to be looking for something – and the hobbit was sitting, apparently exhausted.

'Fíli – Fee! Look at this.'

Fíli felt a tug on his arm and Fíli followed Kíli over to a nearby shelf. Fíli laughed when he saw what Kíli was heading for.

'Kee, those'd be out of tune by now.'

'Do you underestimate the skills of our ancestors, brother?' Kíli teased lightly, handing Fíli a golden harp. Kíli plucked a string on his, and the clear note rang out through the hall, washing over the company.

'Perfectly tuned,' Kíli said smugly, his deft archer fingers quickly picking out a melody.

Fíli smiled as he recognised the song. It brought back memories of what felt like a past life; dreams under the stars, the heat of fire, the feel of leather under his fingers. Running around Ered Luin with Kíli; curling up with Kíli and their mother as Dís told them stories of their heroic uncles, Thorin and Frerin – Fíli alone had inherited Frerin's blonde hair. Sneaking into the kitchens; getting caught: ears pinched, threats of getting his carefully braided beard short off – so what if it was short?

Fíli sank to the floor, closing his eyes and letting his brother's song wash over him. His mind raced forward, from the past to the future, as he sat back and imagined the life they were going to build in their homeland. Durin's Folk would come back from Ered Luin and take up their hammers and axes once more to restore the kingdom of Erebor. He could already see Thorin sitting in the great chamber of Thrór, looking every part the king he was meant to be. The king he already was.

While he was sitting in the halls of the home he had never known, with his brother by his side and the rest of his family surrounding him, it was far too easy to forget the troubles of the present and focus on the dreams of the future.