This was written at work and has been read through like twice, so it's clearly not beta-d and it's barely revised but hey, whatever. Enough of you asked for me to just add it on here, so here it is, but I think I might also make them into a little childhood stories one-shot collection in the future, would you like that?
For some reason I tend to write really existential things when it comes to Thorin? Not sure why but he's a very angsty, brooding individual so I suppose it makes sense.

Thorin, like most toddlers was practically vibrating with energy. The only odd thing about this was that the day was nearing its end, and usually small toddlers such as Thorin was were usually falling over themselves arguing that 'no amad, I'm not tired, I can stay up' while countering their own arguments with yawns and sleepily blinking eyes.

Tonight however, was special.

Dwarrow as a rule tended to keep to their mountains- as one would expect of the stone father's children- especially so when they are young. To dwarrow the mountains meant safety and the comfort of their own people and their native stone, they meant Home and respite from the outside world and those in it who failed to understand them and in their ignorance might do harm. Children, being as precious as they are, were traditionally kept from that outside world as long as feasibly possibly.

As such, Thorin's first time out of the mountain was an exciting one for the dwarfling. They weren't going far, not even off the mountain technically but it was still outside, and Thorin had never been there before.

"Frís, he's too young- we've talked about this." Thrain had stated wearily.

Their oldest child had finally gotten to the age that all children eventually get to in which they question everything they can think of simply for the sake of questioning and as such, it was little surprise that young Thorin had grown curious about the strange outside world of men and elves and sky and growing things that Balin had been tutoring him about.

"He'll have to go outside sometime dear. It's best if it's now while we can still keep an eye on him and he's not running hither and thither after asking to go into Dale or something."

"But he's still so small…" was argued back weakly. It was true that Thorin was smaller than other dwarflings his age, though his parents made sure that both he and everybody else knew it was no bad thing- there had been many short kings before and they were just as great if not more so than their taller counterparts, Thrain had told his son.

"Don't let Thorin hear you say that."

"But Frís dear,"

She stopped sharpening her blades and put down her whetstone to look him in the eye. "Don't you 'but Frís' me, Thrain son of Thror, you've told our son 'no' long enough- if I have to hear one more plea about getting to meet elves or fighting an orc I will cut your beard off and use it to stuff my ears! He's been getting more creative each time I hear him- the last I heard of this was when he snuck out of training with Fundin's younger son to come and plead his case in open court! I was obligated to listen to him for nearly an entire hour because of court protocol and this time he wanted to go and ride on the backs of giant eagles he read about!"

Thrain grimaced. Their son's obsession with elves was bad enough, though they were certain he would grow out of it someday, but did he really need to add mystical birds to the list?

"You've been able to- and I can't believe I'm even saying this- save yourself by hiding away with that council you hate so much, the fact that you prefer them over Thorin right now is telling enough that I shouldn't be dealing with this on my own. Just give him a little turn outside and once he's disappointed he'll stay inside where you can fret over him all you like and I won't have to listen to anymore of his caterwauling."

Frís narrowed her eyes at her husband as he mulled over her words. It was uncertain if it was fear for his beard or real understanding of her plight that swayed him, nevertheless it seemed that both Frís and Thorin had won that day.

"It'll only be on one of the balconies, yes?"

"Of course dear." She picked the whetstone back up, her battle clearly won.

"And he'll be with Balin?"

"Yes love."

"And it'll only be for a few minutes?"

"Ten minutes, no longer."

The repetitive 'schlick' of a blade over stone was the only sound heard over the crackling of their hearth.

'Schlick.'

'Schlick.'

"Are we really sure-"

"Thrain I swear to Mahal-!"

"Are we there yet?"

Balin sighed again. He thought if he sighed any harder he just might blow a lung.

"No Thorin, we've only just left the palace, look there are the training grounds you go to every morning, see?"

The young prince certainly did see, and he certainly knew just how big Erebor was and that it would take them a while to walk all the way to the balcony in the (currently unused) royal guest chambers and yet had still asked Balin 19- no, 20 times now if they were there yet.

It might have taken less time had the dwarfling not stopped to grab every possible object that could conceivably be designated for outside use he could see. Thorin had claimed that with only ten minutes out of doors he needed to make it count- what if he came across an elf and didn't have his bow with him to show off? Of course the likelihood of finding an elf on an Ereboreian balcony well above the tree-line was negligible if not nonexistent and Balin as well as many others had assured Thorin of this however as it often was with children, the words tumbled around his head for a while until he decided he didn't like them and then they fell right out again.

"Are you sure we aren't there?"

Twenty-one. Clearly Balin would be gray long before his time because of this one.

Indeed, by the time they eventually made it to the suite that held the balcony Balin found himself fanning his fingers through his beard looking for signs of such discoloration. Thorin himself seemed to have turned into one of those rubber balls that the children of Dale loved so much; initially resembling one just after it was released with high arching bounces only increasing in frequency and tension as the bounces got closer to the ground- in Thorin's case as they got closer to the guest suite.

In his strange state of vibration, Thorin just looked pleadingly at Balin until he nodded in acquiesce. The doors to the suite were flung open and Thorin sped through them pausing only a moment before opening the balcony doors- with much less force to Balin's relief. It took a moment for him to follow, but when Thorin finally came into view he was standing with his feet on the railing balancing on his toes to get as tall as he could, bows and trinkets strewn in a haphazard pile.

There were many things Balin would remember when the secret door opened that fateful Durin's day far in the future, he would remember his parents, the time Dwalin nearly fell in a hot spring when he was only twenty, the day the dragon came of course. He would also remember, just as he always knew he would, the sheer awe on Thorin's face in that moment on the balcony.

He was staring, his head oscillating between earth and sky as if unable to decide what to look at first. Exposed to open air for the first time in his life, Thorin could do little but blink and gasp as the evening breeze swept through his hair and stung his cheeks with its newness though it was not cold. He couldn't help but think that he was feeling everything at once; never before had he seen such vastness, the caverns and high cathedral-esque ceilings of Erebor were nothing to the sweeping void of blue that housed Eru's creations, the gleaming color of freshly-hewn gems paling with the golden display of clouds and sun falling in the west, the sparking veins of gold in green of Erebor's halls insignificant in light of sweeping hills and trees with Dale glowing warmly in their midst.

There was so much to see, beyond imagination though Thorin's had certainly not lacked in effort, and it was all laid out in from of him. Such sights and sounds and feelings had been all but lost to him locked up in their halls of stone and for a moment Thorin nearly hated his race, his parents for keeping such majesty from him, though in his heart he knew they were right to have done so.

He knew that the winds would have carried his younger soul off into the distance, he was old enough to understand now. Old enough to take in the beauty of the world for what it was and not brush it off as less than it's due as he expected many of those born beneath the open sky likely did. It was beautiful and wild, its glory not made by the hands of the free people like his home but by Eru himself- ancient as time and just as mysterious.

He caught sight of the river running as it flowed from the Lonely Mountain beneath him and gasped in quiet wonderment when it began to glow intermittently as if it were loosing the sparks made by a forge hammer into the air.

"Balin!" He gestured frantically as well as he could reach over the railing toward the light display.

"Why does the river have sparks?! It never has sparks inside the mountain!"

"Those are fireflies your highness, they tend to mill about the river at dusk, although they like forests as well."

The forge-sparks had a name now, but Thorin clearly wasn't satisfied with that.

"What are they?" He whispered with wide-eyed reverence that made Balin chuckle.

"Many have said that they're fallen stars come down to guide those who were lost by the river at night- a light to chase away the darkness that plagues the world from Morgoth's interference in the Great Song when it seeks to lead Eru's children astray."

"Balin?"

"Yes Thorin?"

"What are stars?"

"Look up."

And lo, when Thorin turned his face skyward once again he was greeted with the first stars of the night twinkling in the darkening east, and indeed they seemed to dance and shimmer just like the fireflies down by the river.

"Wow…" He whispered.

For truly to him they seemed the heavens come down to guide his way and grace him with their light, though to what end he did not know.

"Balin?" he asked again.

"Where do the fireflies lead?"

"No one's quite sure really." He answered. "Some say they lead you to your fate, others love. Some even say they warn of danger. Of course the more realistic folk think they lead you to rivers."

Balin's laughter floated off into the darkening night and Thorin swore to himself that he would remember this. He was sure he would be allowed outside again, but if his amad and adad had anything to say about it he would have to wait until he was older. And wait he would, until the day he could follow the fireflies to wherever they may lead him- for the world was vast and he knew he was but a small thing in that vastness.

As Thorin was slowly herded back inside, trinkets and bow forgotten, he promised the fireflies that he would follow them to whatever fate or love or even danger they wished him to face, if only they would guide him true as Balin promised.