A/N

Wow, thank you guys for your kind reviews! I am glad you liked the first two chapters. I hope you will like this one too.

Anyway, I know I told you guys my other story 'Hear Me Calling' will be my main priority, but I have a confession to make. I already have fallen in love with this story and the ideas I have for it.


Unfortunate Events

Fíli looks at his younger brother. He is trying to hide from his mother by placing his hands before his eyes. Fíli rolls his eyes. So lame. Like their mother wouldn't find him. If Kíli wants to hide, he can at least try and find a good hiding place.

Fíli sighs. Why does his brother have to be so lame? Sometimes he wishes his brother would be more his age. He hopes he had not been like this when he was three. Fíli watches as his mother seems to believe Kíli is gone.

Fíli shakes his head. No, the eight year old really wonders about his younger sibling some times. He can't hide, he can't seek. Fíli can't play with his brother, because he is still too young. And worst of all, Fíli can't even practice his swordplay with him. What use is a brother when you can't even practice your swordplay together?

'Where are my two fine lads?'

Fíli looks up at the sound of his uncle's voice. At least his uncle is awesome! Fíli rushes over to his uncle, glad he has returned home again.

'Uncle Thowin, uncle Thowin,' Kíli yells as he runs over to his uncle as well.

Though the two of them are completely different, with Fíli having inherited his father's blond locks and Kíli taking more after their mother's side, they do have one thing in common. They both adore and admire their uncle. Even at his young age, Fíli already has made up his mind to grow up just like his uncle. His father is alright too. But come on, no one can compare to his uncle!

'Uncle Thorin!' Fíli says as he embraces his uncle. 'Welcome back. Will you be staying for a while now?'

Thorin laughs at his eldest nephew and ruffles up his hair. Children are always so honest and straight to the point. Adults sometimes should look more like them. Thorin stands up straight, both his nephews on his arms as he greets his sister and his brother-in-law.

Yes, he is going to stay here for a while. Word reached him an illness has fallen over his people. An illness that has taken the lives of several of them. And now his in-law Víli has succumb to it as well.

'Yes my dear lad,' Thorin answers the blond lad. 'I am staying here for a while. Someone has to make sure you don't drive your mother mad.'

'Hey, she is the one driving me mad uncle,' Fíli pouts. 'I can do nothing. Father can't come out and play, and she tells me Kíli is still too young to play with me.'

'And a wise mother you have,' Thorin says as he takes a seat. 'Kíli is no match for you, for he has to grow some more. My beard, even I have trouble taking you down.'

Fíli looks at his uncle with pride. Yes, he is that strong. Even the mighty Thorin Oakenshield, their leader who has lead them to victory at the Battle of Azanulbizar. And one day Fíli will succeed him and become even greater than his uncle! Fíli has no doubt about that.

'Now now, my dears,' Dís says as she takes Kíli in her arms. 'Let your uncle be. He has had a long journey behind and he needs to eat. You too, Fíli,' she adds with a stern look at her eldest son.

'Not fair,' he sighs as he jumps of his uncle's lap. 'Whatever should I do? There is nothing to do for me.'

'You could practice with your bow. I am sure your uncle would love to see how much you have improved.'

His eyes brighten up at the idea, agreeing. His eyes fall on his little brother and adds Kíli can't come along. He doesn't want his little brother to walk in his way! Though he does not need to worry, as his mother tells him Kíli is going to take a nap. Fíli smiles and runs over to the hall to grab his bow and quiver. While counting his arrows, Fíli silently thanks Mahal his lame brother still needs his naps. Then he runs outside for target practice.

Thorin watches his nephew leave with a smile, which turns into a frown once the lad shuts the door. He worries about the lad, about both his nephews. With this illness around, anyone dear to him could succumb to it. From what he has heard, Flór, Vigr and even young Jón have already died. No one is save. Elder, younglings, no one.

'How long since the first?' Thorin asks as his sister pours him some ale.

'Jón was the first to go,' Dís tells him. 'Just last week. The lad came down with a fever and a day later the found him dead in his bed. Eir was next. She had not come to the market with us, stating she wasn't feeling well. A few days later she was gone too.'

'How is Víli holding on?'

Dís sighs as she looks at the door that leads to the master bedroom. Víli had gotten home yesterday, all sweaty and feverish. She fears it will not be long before her husband will joining his for-fathers. She can hear his painful moans every now and then.

'He is losing his battle. It will not be long now.'

'And Fíli, does he knows what is going ?'

Dís nods. Though he is still a child, Fíli is old enough to know something is going on. He has seen dwarves die around him. He knows what has killed them. And just this morning he had asked her if his father is going to die. How was she suppose to answer him?

They were glad the epidemic was almost over. Less and less dwarves are sick and they had been relieved it had passed their house. But no house is save. Almost everyone has lost someone dear to them. Why would they be an exception? Because they are royalty? That word means nothing anymore.

They had to leave their royal title back at Erebor. The last king had been their grandfather, Thror. Now they only have a leader, Thorin. His role the same as a king, but without the title. But one day, they will return to Erebor! One day Thorin will lead his people back to their home. One day...


'Uncle, can you tell us about Erebor again?'

'Yes, pwease?'

Thorin looks at his two nephews. They are sitting outside, while Dís tents to her husband. His fever has gotten worse over night. And now Dís doesn't want her boys to see their father like this. He is to remain their example, a strong and noble dwarf. Not a weak dwarf, crying out in pain.

'I don't know lads,' Thorin says with a smile. 'I have told so many stories, I am afraid I do no longer enjoy telling them anymore.'

Fíli pouts, showing his young, childish nature has not yet left him, while Kíli keeps on begging, pulling the sleeve of his uncle. Thorin tries not to laugh at the scene both lads are making. They are his light in the darker growing world.

He would never grow tired of telling tales about Erebor. He would never grow tired about dreaming of reclaiming it. Neither would Thorin ever forget those memories of Gefn, for she too belongs with his precious memories of Erebor.

But he will not tell those stories, without jesting his nephews. They are easy to fool still, and easy to be excited. And those moodswings they still posses, makes his heart glad. The whining Kíli does when things don't go his way. The way Fíli sulks around when he is denied something he wants.

And ofcourse their laughter, their fooling around. Those moments when Fíli pulls a prank, of when Kíli tries to scare Thorin. Thorin braces himself for the day those two will team up together. Then those two lads will be even more mischievous.

'Uncle, I demand you to tell us about Erebor,' Fíli says as he puffs out his chest. 'If you don't, then I'll... I'll... I will tickle you to death!'

'Oh no, we would not want such thing, do we,' Thorin says with a smirk as Fíli starts his assault.

It doesn't take long before Kíli joins in as well. Even though the lad doesn't quite understand why his brother is tickling their uncle, he finds it amusing enough to team up with his brother. And Thorin lets them, letting them think they have the upper hand.

Kíli screeches in joy as Thorin grabs him and tickles him. Then Fíli jumps on his back, trying to find his uncle's weak spot. While doing so, he misses his uncle's movement and soon finds himself being lifted in the air, with Thorin now tickling him.

With his uncle preoccupied, Kíli takes out his wooden sword, slamming it against Thorin's leg. While laughing, Thorin falls on his back, losing his grip on his eldest nephew. Fíli wastes no time and pulls his wooden sword as well, stabbing and slicing at his uncle as well.

Thorin laughs as his nephews try to overrule him. Fíli sits on his chest, his sword pointed at his uncle's chin, a wicked smile on his face. His blue eyes twinkle, knowing he has won. Though he will never admit his little brother has helped him.

'Do you yield?' Fíli asks and his smile grows even wider as his uncle lifts his hands in surrender. Thorin nods. 'Then you will tell us about Erebor now.'

Fíli climbs of his uncle's chest, allowing him to sit back up, pulling his brother with him. Kíli is such a pain, but at times like these, he is glad he has a younger brother.

'What would you have me tell?'

'About the halls filled with golden light! About how our people found the Arkenstone! About everything!'

By now Fíli is jumping up and down in excitement as his uncle makes himself comfortable.

'Erebor,' Thorin begins, his voice soft and tender as he remembers. 'Our home. Our beautiful home, where the halls always glowed gold by the light of the torches. Where there was always laughter of children. Every day you could smell the freshly baked pastries and bread. I can still smell it when I close my eyes. I can still hear the sounds of the mining dwarves, as they hammer onto the stone walls...'

Thorin closes his eyes. He remembers those times, the memories still fresh on his mind. He remembers the time when he was still a young lad. About ten years of age. He and Frerin had thrown a bucket of water over Gefn, while the six year old was practising her dancing. As a lady of the court she was to participate dancing lessons, just like Thorin was to participate his archery lessons.

Frerin and himself always pulled pranks on Dís and Gefn in their younger years. Why? Because they could and because they were not as strong as them. While Dís usually started crying, Gefn always became angry and followed them all around Erebor, until she could hit one of them. And if she was lucky, she got a chance to hit both of them.

Those were wonderful times. Times Thorin wishes for his nephews as well.


A child is crying, someone is sobbing and someone is trying to calm down the crying child. Her own voice also about to break. The sky is dark. Clouds are rolling in, promising to release the rain they hold at any time now.

The unknown fever has taken yet another life. Its last victim. Father of two young lads, husband of Dís, brother-in-law of Thorin. Víli.

The dwarf had tried his hardest to fight his losing battle. A whole week he has fought. Longer than any other victim. For a moment Thorin had thought Víli was going to overcome his illness. But alas, the dwarf has perished last night.

Thorin watches his mourning sister and nephews as they place a flower on his grave. Yet another member of his family has been taken. Yet another loved one. Will it ever end? Why does he has to suffer so much? How many of his people will have to suffer?

Rain begins to fall down. Even the sky is mourning for their loss.

'Uncle, can we go home?' Fíli asks as he wipes away his tears. 'I do not want to be here anymore, it hurts too much. But mother doesn't want to leave.'

'I will talk to her,' Thorin says as he watches his sister as she stands near the grave.

He knows Dís will not leave for now, but with the rain, his nephews can not stay here. She is trying hard not to cry, Thorin can tell by the way she is standing. She is trying to stay strong for her boys, but Dís can not stop the tears from falling. Who can blame her? She has just lost her husband, her one.

Thorin walks over to Dís, casting one last look at Fíli. He still needs his father in his life, a role-model. He is still so young. What of his younger brother. His eyes travel to his youngest nephew, the lad now finally calming down a bit. Kíli will never remember the face of his own father. Who will have to teach him the things only a father can teach?

'Dís, the lads are exhausted,' Thorin says as he gently places a hand on her shoulder. 'They are getting cold too. Let me take them home, and you come back when you are ready.'

Dís doesn't reply. Her grieve is still too fresh. So Thorin gently takes Kíli from her, not even sure is his sister had heard him or not. But she lets him take her boy, wrapping her arms around her body once the small body is no longer in them. Kíli looks at his uncle in surprise, but doesn't say anything about it. The lad feels cold to the touch.

'Uncle, me sick too?' he asks unsure.

'No, you're not sick, lad,' Thorin says as he starts walking to their home, Fíli at his side.

Though it makes Thorin wonder about what is going on in his young mind. Does the lad knows why his father has died? Probably not, but at this tender age he can understand a few things, such as his father being sick.

'Uncle, why will mother not come home with us?'

Thorin glances at his eldest nephew. The light-haired lad a spitting image of his late father, with his blond hair and blue eyes.

'Your mother is still sad your father will not be coming home anymore,' Thorin tries to explain. 'She will come home when she is ready.' Fíli looks worried, so Thorin places a hand on the lad his head. 'Don't worry, Fíli,' he adds. 'Your mother will come home.'

Fíli looks at his uncle, not sure whether to believe him or not. But he decides he has no choice but to wait for his mother to return home. He can not afford to lose his mother as well!


A/N

That's it for today. Let me know what you think of it. Also I am trying not to use '... p.o.v.' anymore. Instead I have tried to write it like this. Let me know if you like it, or if you rather have me write in different point of views.