Erebor. Their home.

The mountain paints an imposing picture as it looms over them. Now that they're here, standing within a stone's throw of it Kíli's not so sure this is what he was expecting. This entire time he thought there would be some grand revelation upon seeing it. He thought everything would all click into place.

But here he is and there it stands and he feels exactly the same; like nothing has changed at all.

"What's that?"

Bilbo's voice draws him from his thoughts and reminds him that some things have changed, just not the things he expected. His hobbit is standing between Balin and his uncle, still wearing the blue coat Bard and his children had gifted him.

"That, my lad, is the desolation."

The ruins of Dale lay before them, a solemn reminder that the dwarves of Erebor were not the only ones to suffer the dragon's wrath all those many years ago. Countless lives had been lost there too when the town had burned with dragon fire. But his uncle's eyes lie beyond that. Where they used to drift to a distant peak a world away now their focus is so much closer. He looks towards the front gates. The crumbled, charred ruin of his past laid bare before them.

The mountains trembles beneath the dragon's assault, and it fills with smoke and flame and fear. People are screaming, walls are crumbling, his kin are fleeing. A prosperous age is dying before their very eyes.

The dragon roars his triumph as he rolls in a hall of gold. A mountain king faces down a crimson serpent, stunned as the golden eyes fix on him and the jewel that glitters in his hands. The beast loves gold, but he knows a pretty stone when he sees one and his greed is as deep as the Sundering Seas. When it tumbles from the king's hand and is lost within a swatch of gold the dragon knows he has acquired the mountain's heart. The line of Durin is homeless, and were it not for the bravery of the young heir they would have been kingless as well.

The great gates of Erebor crumble behind them as they flee with little more than their lives.

Kíli had heard his mother recall the memory, heard his uncle plead for her to drop it. The pain was still too fresh. He could hear it in Thorin's voice. But when the fire burned low and the house was quiet they recalled their loss in low tones that they thought Kíli and Fíli wouldn't hear.

But they did.

"We must find the hidden door."

Thorin's words spur them into action, though for all that they are close it is subdued. They have journeyed across the whole of Middle Earth and yet the outcome of the quest still lies in question. It takes the shape of a mountain, and may hold a dragon at its center.

The others begin to follow the path down the rock face, but Bilbo stands frozen, eyes distant but not fond. He's not thinking of a warm hearth or beloved home. The coming storm is brewing on his face.

Kíli rests his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Bilbo exhales, breath shuddering against the silence. Not even a thrush is crying. "I've seen many things; I've lost things, family…but this…" he trails off with a shake of his head. "I can't fathom the loss. Not even a little."

Kíli wishes he could give Bilbo something, some reassurance, but any words he could muster would seem empty. So instead he presses his mouth to Bilbo's curls and he is grateful for the way the hobbit's arm snakes around his waist. It makes him feel likes he's needed maybe just as much as he's in need. He wishes this were all over, that they were standing on the other side of this quest and still in one piece. Was it too much to hope that it might turn out alright?

"I guess we should probably follow," Bilbo finally says, face still pressed into the fabric of Kíli's tunic.

"The sooner we do, the sooner we can end this," Kíli whispers.

He wishes for it even if he's not sure what the end will bring.

O~o~O

The climb up the hidden stair is so very trying.

The stone is jagged and uneven. It bruises his hands and wears his skin to blisters. Even though it was designed for a race not much bigger than himself Bilbo finds himself struggling. About halfway up he makes the mistake of looking over his shoulder and feels his stomach curl into a knot at the height. If he were to fall… No, he can't think like that.

Kíli was a constant presence at his back, his hands there to steady Bilbo whenever his foot slipped.

"Steady there, Bilbo," he murmurs. "I've got you."

It seems to take forever before they tumble out onto the ledge to lie panting from their ascent.

"The map says it should be here," Thorin announces, studying the parchment in his hands.

"And Durin's day is tomorrow," Balin adds from his elbow.

It is decided that they will camp here, where the ledge is widest, and wait for the morning to reveal their way into the mountain. It's a relief, though Bilbo won't say it aloud. At least he has a few more hours before he must face down death again.

Their party is subdued, dinner is whatever food has survived the trek from Laketown. They don't light a fire for fear of waking the dragon and so luxuries like tea and a hot meal are forgone. When they lay out their bedrolls Bilbo lies there with his arms around his knees, eyes wide and unseeing. What awaits them? What will happen?

Kíli curls up against his back, his warmth a quiet comfort.

"What will we find in there?" Bilbo asks in a whisper, taking Kíli's hand where it's curled over his stomach.

He feels Kíli shrug and scoot a little closer, form melding to Bilbo's as the darkness covers them. "I don't know."

Kíli's fingers are warm between his and Bilbo closes his eyes as he memorizes the feel of them tangled together. The calluses. The lines. The comfort of them.

"What do you want to find in there?" he asks finally.

Kíli is silent for a long time, bowing his head forward against Bilbo's shoulder. "I don't know," he finally admits.

There's uncertainty in his voice and an emotion Bilbo can't quite name.

He rolls over, turning in Kíli's arms and burrowing his face in the dwarf's neck.

"Me neither."

O~o~O

That night he dreams of a mountain rising up above him.

They are there, at the door, and it lies open inky darkness spilling forth like pools of ink.

He watches his brother disappear, a smile thrown back at him over his shoulder blue eyes for once not haunted by the weight of a legend that seems larger than life.

"C'mon brother, our destiny awaits us." His voice is an echo as he melts out of sight.

"Kíli." Thorin is looking at him, the disappointment that normally draws lines at the corners of his eyes smoothed out. He is almost smiling. "This way."

He reaches out towards his uncle, trying to follow. He wants to follow.

But his feet are like lead and his heartstone burns in his palm.

"Kíli?"

"I—I can't."

He holds out his palm, the stone glowing hot in its center.

"It's broken," Thorin says, as if he didn't know.

"Cracked."

His uncle turns and Mahal help him, Kíli wishes he wouldn't turn his back on him. Please don't turn away from me, Kíli wants to beg him.

"If Erebor will not take you…"

The mountain looms above him, menacing and unwelcoming, and he is left alone.

He awakens before the rest of them, Bilbo still curled by his side. His breath catches in his throat and burns his lungs while he stares up into the darkness, knowing above him stands the mountain that he'd just seen behind his eyes.

Bilbo makes a soft noise and shifts, rolling onto his side so he can look up at him, "Kíli? What's wrong? Is your leg troubling you?" His voice is soft, so soft he almost misses the question. The hand on his thigh is tentative but it is not the remnants of his wound that pains him.

"Nothing, it's nothing Bilbo. I'm alright."

Fingers thread through his and tug them up so they're resting against the smaller man's chest, over his heart. "Come here," he murmurs and Kíli can't deny him his request. He doesn't even want to. He tucks himself around the hobbit and presses his forehead against Bilbo's. "You can tell me anything, Kíli. I would help you bear these troubles that burden you."

"It was just a bad dream." And you have enough to bear, Bilbo, he thinks to himself.

"Call it what you will, sometimes it helps to talk about them," Bilbo insists and Kíli feels the hobbit's lips against his chin.

"It was just a nightmare," he murmurs.

"Mmmhmm, about what?"

Bilbo's fingers tangle in Kíli's hair and give it a gentle tug when he doesn't answer.

The words fall out of him in a rush, whispered as they are. "I dreamed that the mountain would not take me, that my heartstone burned like fire in my palm and would not let me enter. I dreamed that my uncle turned away from me and let the mountain's judgment stand." He takes a sharp breath and then smiles at Bilbo. "It was just a stupid dream. Do not trouble yourself over it."

Fingers touch his cheek and pull his chin so the hobbit can kiss him gently once, twice, and then a third time as if for good measure. "Your uncle would never leave you behind, Kíli. Nor would your brother. And even if the mountain will not take you, you must know that there will always be a round, green door unlocked for you."

There is no ridicule, no jests at his expense, only an unexpected sincerity.

"It's the home I've been told of all my life," he continues. "The mountain where we belong. I've heard tell of it thousands of times and I feel like I've spent years dreaming of it. Of the grand halls, the mines, the rivers of gold and mithril that run to the very heart of it. And now that I'm here...now that we're here..."

He trails off and hugs the smaller man closer.

"It will be alright," Bilbo murmurs against his ear, gently nuzzling him, and he wants so badly to believe him. "It has to be."

O~o~O

When dawn finally breaks the mountain does not reveal its secret, and no amount of Dwalin's thumping or Nori's quick fingers, trailing over every ledge and crevice can find it. The morning is spent in ever growing frustration, but the panic does not set in quite yet. No, not until well after midday when the sun sinks ever lower and no reading of the map, nor recalling of what Elrond had said makes any difference.

Bilbo is sitting against the far wall, out of the way and mostly out of sight. There is little he can do except to let the dwarves search, even though all of their searching yields nothing.

The door does not appear and the sun does not slow its descent.

"It must be here," Thorin says, looking to Balin, looking past him as the sun sinks behind the distant horizon. He turns to the others. "We're losing the light, break it down!"

And they try. They try until the axes the men of Laketown had given them are nothing but splinters, until they're panting from their effort.

"You can't break it down," Balin tells him, almost gently. "The door is sealed. It cannot be opened by force."

Thorin's face falls as surely as the sun does, his fist clenches around the map that they had hedged all of their bets on. "What did we miss? Tell me Balin."

But there are no good answers. None that will ease the loss in the slightest. "That's the end of it," Balin tells him gently.

"Wait a minute, you're giving up?" Bilbo asks, rising to his feet. "After we've come all this way."

"We've lost the light lad, there's nothing to be done."

They've come so far, they've outrun wargs, and managed to not be smashed by stone giants. They fell into the deep tunnels of the Misty Mountains and somehow escaped those too. They came all this way on eagles, and by pony back, and even in barrels, and they were giving up now? Here on the very doorstep they had been searching for? Bilbo looks around. To anyone. "There must be another way."

Balin sets his hand on his shoulder. "It was the only way."

The dwarves begin the slow descent down the hidden stair and Bilbo feels his desperation rise. They'd come all this way. Kíli had come all this way. "Kíli-"

There's a smile on Kíli's face, but it's filled with all manner of emotions a smile should never hold. "Maybe it's for the best, Bilbo. This just saves us from...everything."

Everything.

It was such a heavy word.

There could be a dragon behind this very wall, he thinks, settling against the stone with a sigh. There could be death, pain, heartbreak. He closes his eyes. "Oh, but there could be a home too." There could be Kíli's happy ending, the life he longs for. Kíli deserves that. Every member of the company deserves that.

"Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield," Elrond had said. "As luck would have it the same moon shines upon us tonight."

"Moon runes," Bilbo breathes, watching the curve of silver peek out from among the clouds. He whirls on the stone wall and there, near his hand is what they had been searching for. "The keyhole."

There's a way in. They're closer than ever.

"Come back!" he shouts even as he scrambles to find the key he had seen Thorin drop. "It's here! The keyhole! Come back!"

He knows he's not making much sense and they probably can't hear him but he doesn't care, he has to find the key before their door disappears, he has to-"Looking for this?"

Kíli is holding the key and smiling at Bilbo. "We found it, Kíli," Bilbo tells him.

"No, Bilbo. You found it."

"Keen eyes, Master Burglar," Thorin says with a fondness not often given. The key exchanges hands and the entire company holds its breath as he turns over the key and pushes against the stone wall.

With a shuddering groan it gives way.

"We've done it," Kíli says in disbelief as he watches Thorin disappear through the doorway, then Balin. He looks at his brother then at Bilbo. "We're really here."

Fíli clasps his little brother's shoulder. "C'mon Ki, this is the day we've dreamed of."

Bilbo watches the brothers, watches Kíli stare up at the mountain that had haunted him the night before. Not all dreams sat easy on the mind. Bilbo knew that only too well. Kili's hand clenches in his pocket, wrapped around his heartstone, if Bilbo were to guess.

But dreams are not always foretellers of the future and Kíli will not do this alone.

"What do you say?" he asks softly, reaching out to twine his fingers through Kíli's. "Shall we follow? Together?"

Kíli smiles down at him and squeezes his hand ever so gently.

"Together."