Bowing his head under the wind, he put his feet one before the other.

If he wasn't glad to be home.

Weariness was in his very bones and it weighted his every step. The wind blew chill against him, but not as it had. This was a dying wind. Both of them were going home for the night after long journeys. He hoped the wind had had better luck than he in its goings.

Drawing a breath, Thorin raised his head.

No one was about this time of day. Not after the wind. It was bringing a storm behind it – the first of the year, and it promised to be a long one. Thorin was only glad that he'd beaten it home.

Lengthening his stride, he closed the last distance just as the first flurry of silver flakes started to fall.

He opened the door in a last gust of wind that startled his sister.

Dís' head shot up, and then she beamed at him. The room was warmly lit and the fire was strong. She was baking over it. "Boys," she called. She brushed the hair from her face. "You've just made it," she told him.

"Well I know it," Thorin answered. He shrugged the pack from aching shoulders. "It came more quickly than I'd anticipated."

"And you more slowly," she said.

Thorin hesitated. "Things are," he decided, finally, "more complicated, than I had guessed."

Dís gave an undignified snort and, surprised as he was amused, Thorin smiled at it.

There was a clatter in the next room, and scuffling.

Dís looked through the door, past Thorin's line of vision. "And what's happened to you?"

"Fí thinks he's funny," Kíli's voice answered good naturedly.

"I am funny," Fíli came through the doorway. "You called us?"

Kíli came around behind him, with one of his boots only half-on, "Uncle!" he crowed. He stooped hurriedly to fix his boot.

Fíli went past his brother to take Thorin's bag. "It's snowing?" he asked.

"Just starting to," Thorin answered.

Kíli got past them and tugged the door open.

"And where are you going?" Dís demanded.

"It's the first snow," he grinned over his shoulder. "It's lucky!"

Fíli was just behind him. "We'll only be a moment," he said, then, glancing at Thorin with the doorknob in his hand. "Hallo, Uncle."

And they were gone.

Thorin smiled, wearily.

"Those boys." Dís sighed. She dried her hands and came over, moving his pack out of the doorway. She helped him out of his coat. The fire's warmth was just starting to reach him, and he was glad of it. "How did it go this time?" she asked.

"Not well." Thorin answered.

Dís' mouth went thin. Then she shrugged. "Well, you're home now. Get your boot off and let me find you something warm. You look like you haven't seen a meal in a sennight."

Going up on her toes to reach, Dís laid a kiss on his brow. "I'm glad you're home," she told him.

Holding her elbows in both hands, Thorin smiled at her. "As am I," he promised.