The carnage that led up to the gates of Moria stole most of the remaining light from Thorin's life. His grandfather fell to Azog causing his father to fall into a pit of despair. No one knew where Thrain disappeared to, leaving the burden of leadership resting heavily on Thorin's shoulders. Amongst all the dead, and unable to see past his new responsibilities and his ever growing heart-ache, Thorin never noticed the Ur family fighting alongside him nor waiting outside the healer's tent to hear Bifur's fate.
Bofur rung his hat nervously in his hands, wincing whenever his teeth unconsciously started to worry his lower lip, having already bitten clean through it. His arms and fingers, only a month out of their wrappings, ached along with every cut and bruise that currently decorated his flesh. Bifur was the one of their little family to seriously suffer in the attempt to reclaim their ancestral home. While his boar spear had been buried in the body of one orc, another had taken the opportunity to attack and landed a solid blow to Bifur's forehead. The axe piece was now lodged firmly in his skull. The face of the healer that exited the tent moments later was one of grim uncertainty. Immediately, the slight tremors that had been a constant companion since the morning that he picked up his mattock to head off to war, strange that they had only ceased once he'd caught sight of Thorin (even drenched in the blood and gore of orcs, Bofur could readily fall to his knees and proclaim Thorin as some sort of god. Seriously, he had remarked on more than one occasion how there had to be some sort of law against looking that perfect), returned with a vengeance and a twitch began in his cheek. His need to smile and ease everyone else's sorrows was mixing with his own need to be sick.
"He's alive lads, no need to fret about that. It's the axe head." A deep frown marred the elder dwarf's face. "We can't take it out without killing him. He'll live, but I have to warn you lads," he shot the two a pitying look. "He may not be the same as you remember when he wakes."
Bifur indeed was not the same when he awoke a few weeks later. Most of the way to the Blue Mountains was filled with Bofur and Bombur trying to pull Bifur out of his silent and unresponsive state. Unresponsive except, that is, for the rages. Healers suggested that Bifur was reliving the battle during those times and to simply try to keep him from hurting himself or anyone else, the task of which had fallen to Bofur. It pained him to no end to have to wrestle his own kin to the ground, pinning them down and snarling in response to the various insults and battle cries, but he refused to allow gentle Bombur's heart to be scared so by the necessary actions and there was no one else to help them. So Bofur grit his teeth, smiled while lying through his teeth to reassure Bombur that Bifur was slowly getting better, and patched up the wounds that his beloved cousin gave him once Bombur had drifted off to sleep.
Thorin cast about a weary glance as he brushed his hair out of his sweaty face. By the following year, the Blue Mountains would be self-sufficient, but until then, Thorin and many other dwarves were forced to toil away in the villages of men. It was degrading work for many of them, proud and magnificent craftsmen being lowered to simple hard labourers. The jeers and superior glances they often received from the men made his blood boil and the lustful looks towards some of the younger ones who had yet to grow in a full beard was enough to make him see red. On more than one occasion, Dwalin and Balin had been forced to hold him back as he made to charge out and deal with the offenders, glowing sword fresh out of the forge in hand.
Gripping the sword he was working on tighter as a particularly rowdy group burst into the shop with cries of 'hey dwarf', he prayed to Mahal for self-control. As he turned to deal with the group of men, he could swear that he heard an all too familiar voice drift in through the window, washing over his shoulders and easing the knot at the base of his neck as if in answer to his prayer. His heart contracted painfully, torn between the bliss of being allowed by the maker to hear his beloved again, and agony at being taunted with being able to hear his one but never hold him.
It was a mercilessly hot day when the Ur family arrived at the last village of men before they would reach the Blue Mountains and plead for refuge. Though they wanted nothing more than to reach the cool relief of the mountains, life on the road had taught them that it is simply not wise to pass up the opportunity to make some money, so the trio set about setting up their wares on their rickety old stand. Bifur had recovered enough to no longer be a constant threat and had even begun to carve toys again. Bofur had suggested the idea and it seemed to help their cousin to ground his mind in reality, even if the toys were far more deranged and scary than they used to be.
Bofur swore that he had only turned his back for a few seconds when the sounds of his toys falling over and hurried feet sounded behind him. Turning, he saw a small child racing away from his stand, two of his toys clenched in hand. Cursing in Khuzdul, he gave chase after the little thief after signing to his cousin what had happened.
Fili son of Dis wasn't stupid. He knew that his uncle and mother were working their fingers to the bone to help provide for him and his younger brother and he also knew that they both cared about him and his brother very much. He knew all this, but his little brother's birthday was coming up and he knew that there was no money to devote to presents so, when their uncle took them into town with him the next time there was no one to watch them, Fili kept his eyes out for a good present. One of his and his brother, Kili's friends had a brother that was a thief and, from what little Ori had described, it seemed easy enough. It was around mid-day that the eldest heir to the line of Durin spotted the toy stand being set up, bringing a large, mischievous smile to his face.
Nori was late in his usual visit to his brothers and he knew it. He was supposed to be around at least a week ago but he had been delayed in a jail cell further north. He also was hoping to catch sight of a certain stand in order to bring home a proper gift for little Ori. He had made sure to drop by the little toy stand for something for his youngest brother for the past ten years. He also liked to check up on his closest friend and make sure that the other and his family were doing well. After all, the only people that mattered to Nori were his kin.
The next time Nori saw the dwarf he had rescued from the mountain, it was Nori himself in need of help. He had entered the small town of men in the early hours of the morning, exhausted and barely conscious from the agony coursing through his body. It was no secret that it was a bad idea to be captured by goblins, though Nori now doubted that he would ever forget that fact for even a second. He knew that he looked a fright, covered in bruises, burns, and lacerations that were still oozing blood. His hair was filthy and had long since come out of its usual three peaks and his ankle was swollen to double the size. He had stumbled into the door while he limped past, and lost consciousness somewhere between hitting the door and hitting the ground. When he awoke, he was wrapped in blankets on a bed roll next to a warm fire with his wounds treated and a hot bowl of stew being shoved in his face. The Khuzdul and broken Iglishmek that came from the figure looming over him informed him that he was to stay in bed and rest until the figures cousin arrived back home. He ate the stew slowly, eyes darting about the small shack that he had woken up in. A few hours later, said cousin returned and Nori gaped like a fool at the very dwarf he had rescued from the mountain, hat and all. Upon catching site of Nori awake and seemingly on the mend, the weariness melted off the dwarf's face to be replaced by the largest grin Nori had ever seen. He would never forget the next sentence that would be cheekily shot at him by the miner.
"I wasn't aware that impersonating a fish was a favorite past-time of yours."
Bofur looked up in shock at the source of the taunting voice. It had been just over four months since the dwarf that had rescued him from the mountain, 'Nori' his mind supplied, had left his care. In the month and a half that the other had been staying with the Ur family, he and Bofur had become rather close. Nori greatly valued the miner's easy friendship and even easier understanding. It hadn't taken Bofur long to figure out Nori's profession. He may not have been a great scholar, but Bofur was no idiot, and instead of tossing Nori out like the thief had predicted, he had simply smiled and asked if the other wanted something to drink. Nori had left shortly after, not wanting to get the small family into trouble with his long list of enemies, with the Ur family braids woven into his hair. Four months later and Bofur was scrambling to make ends meet. An accident in one of the mines in the village of men they had taken up partial residence in had forced Bofur out of commission for a few days. A minor cave in had occurred and Bofur had suffered quite a bit of bruising on the bones of his arms and shoulders (honestly couldn't his other limbs take the injury for once?) while protecting his head from the falling beams and debris. When he returned to the mine a few days later, his job had been filled and they had no room for him on the team any longer. A few whispered accusations of theft among the other miners, had Bofur couldn't get work anywhere in the town. He couldn't bear to inform his brother and cousin of the event and, after a few days of unsuccessful attempts to find work, was ready to resort to rather unsavory methods in order to continue to put food on the table. His palms were sweaty with nervous anticipation. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, all he needed to do was bump into someone and lift their coin purse. Simple. He was more than a little startled when, just as he was about to dart out of the ally, a shadow fell over him and a coin purse was dropped at his feet. He was even more shocked when his own words were repeated back to him by a dwarf with a three-peaked hairstyle, and a sharp jackal-like grin. Bofur smiled weakly in relief, and the thief's coal black eyes softened and he inclined his head to the heartfelt thank you from the miner.
They saw each other off and on over the next few years, Nori helping Bofur out whenever the Ur family got into a pinch and Bofur there to talk Nori out of a prison cell as often as he could and serving as a safe haven for when Nori had to bust himself out or was in need of a place to lay low for a while. Nori served as a strong shoulder to lean on and an ear to hear the whispered fears and frustrations when the weight of the responsibility became too much for Bofur. Bofur was always there when Dori's words cut deeper than Nori wanted to admit. He was there with a comforting embrace and to pretend that he didn't hear the sobs for the sake of his friend's pride while he patched up the injuries Dori inflicted while trying to force Nori to stay away from Ori.
When the topic of their ones came up, they could only laugh bitterly at each other. It seemed that the two were doomed to the greatest irony in love. While Bofur pined longingly for the exiled king of Erebor, Nori craved the attention of the captain of the guard of the Blue Mountains and Thorin's closest confidant, Dwalin son of Fudin.
When Nori showed up in the small town, he was pleased to note that the small toy shop was set up and seemed to be drawing quite a bit of attention. Upon hearing his friend's cries of 'thief!' he sprinted forward, catching sight of the miner chasing after a blond haired child. Leaping onto the rooftops of shops, Nori managed to get ahead of the child. He leapt down, directly in front of the child, seizing him by the scruff and scowling down at into the bright blue eyes that were steadily tearing up. Bofur rounded around another stand, sighing in relief upon seeing the child ensnared in Nori's grasp.
"Nori." Bofur smiled in greeting, breathing coming a little faster and heavier than normal.
"Bofur." Nori flashed his usual jackal-like grin, dark eyes dancing mischievously.
"You caught him." Nori put on an expression of mock hurt at Bofur's words.
"You doubt that I could?" Bofur smiled and shook his head as he walked over to the two. Bofur frowned slightly as he knelt down in front of the boy.
"You know that stealing isn't very nice?" Nori snorted at this, but didn't comment. "Please give me back the toy and I'll forget this ever happen." The boy sniffled as Nori shook him a little. He clenched the toy close to his chest. His voice came out shaky and thick with tears.
"But Kili needs a birthday present." Bofur's eyes immediately softened. Nori shook his head when Bofur relented and nodded to Nori to release the child. A split second after Nori released the child, Dwalin and Thorin emerged from the blacksmith's shop that the boy had been caught in front of for their lunch break.
Thorin felt all of a sudden as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. His heart beat against his chest like Dwalin's war hammer. His hands shook and he staggered forward. Dwalin made to grab Thorin's arm before feeling the cold kiss of a blade at his neck and the voice of the thief he had chased all over the Blue Mountains hissing in his ear.
"If you interfere with this, guardsman, you will regret it."
Thorin felt tears prick at his eyes, pride the only thing keeping them from falling. Staggering forward, he hesitantly placed his shaking hands on either side of his beloved's face, praying that it wasn't a cruel trick. Unwilling to let his one slip through his fingers a second time, he took a deep breath and pressed his lips firmly into the miner's. Into the kiss he poured his passion, desperation, fear, need, helplessness, frustration, and adoration. He felt the other stiffen for a second before melting into the kiss, calloused hands reaching up to fist in his black hair. Thorin broke the kiss, following it up with a couple gentler, more chaste kisses before resting his forehead against his beloved's, gazing lovingly into the emerald eyes gazing at him adoringly.