AN – So, this is a little tiny snippet of a chapter (about a quarter of the normal length). I wanted to give you some snuggles and tie up some loose ends before bringing up the next full chapter. Plus, this is, in a way, the midpoint of the story. The quest is coming soon!

I still own nothing. Enjoy!

Warnings: Fluffity fluff fluff. References to the battle/slave traders from the last chapter.

Greater than Gold
Chapter 20: Sixty-Four and Fifty-Eight, the Interlude
By Displaced Hobbit

He hangs back for a moment once his lesson is completed, waiting patiently as Ori receives his instructions on the next round of missives to deliver around the settlement and casting his old friend a wane smile when he leaves. Balin gives him a critical look from over his spectacles, which have slid low on his nose, and he feels like a small little dwarfling, making him shuffle his feet nervously.

"Well, what is it that troubles you, laddie?" he asks finally, a frown on his face. "I'd have thought you'd leave the second we were finished. Your uncle is due back today."

Kíli chews his lip nervously. "I just…I wanted to apologize. Again. For being so cross with you, before," he stammers. Things had been tense between the pair of them since the slaves had been rescued and brought into the settlement a few weeks prior. He had apologized once before, but at the time he had still been angry with Balin, and worried that his elder knew he hadn't meant it. More than that, Kíli also knew his tutor had felt the burden of caring for these refugees – of finding them a place to sleep, and proper clothing, and food – and for that he was sorry; he hadn't meant to be a burden.

In truth, most of the dwarrow they'd rescued had taken the brief leave Balin had offered them before purchasing provisions and heading off for their own homelands. Lobruk and his mother had done as much, returning to their own homeland farther north in the Blue Mountains. Only a few had stayed behind, all of them refugees from Erebor who were quite delighted with being reunited with the heir of their King, and had taken up various jobs within the settlement. In all, it had worked out quite well; no lives had been lost. Their stores had taken a bit of a hit, but there was still enough time before winter's coming for them to replenish their supplies.

Balin offers him a small, comforting smile. "Not to worry, my boy. It's in the past. And it all worked out for the best, did it not?"

Kíli nods tersely. "I…yes, it did," he agrees, gaze falling down to the floor once more. "I just…I was wondering if you…if you could…help me?" he stammers out, stumbling over his words.

The small frown returns to his tutor's face, but he gives him a nod, prompting him to continue.

"I…you were right. About me," he says softly. "I should know my place better. It's not…it's not my place to…to make decisions that affect other people's lives. I just…it was the right thing to do, and I…"

"Kíli," Balin murmurs softly, crossing the room and placing a fond hand on his shoulder as a gesture of comfort.

"I want to be more like you. And Uncle, and Fíli," he admits. "I don't…I want to be able to…to make the right decisions."

Balin gives him a warm smile. "I don't think that is necessary," he murmurs. "You do not give yourself enough credit."

Kíli blinks in surprise, clearly taken aback at his tutor's refusal. "But you said…"

"I know what I said," he interrupts. "And I stand by it, laddie, believe me. You are not suitable for making such decisions, not yet. But that does not mean you will never be," he explains. "You should not seek to be like your brother or your uncle, not in this regard. You…it would not suit you."

Kíli frowns at this bit of information, but nods in acceptance anyhow.

"No off with you," Balin shoos him with a light pat against his shoulder. "I've several meetings to tend to and things to prepare before Thorin arrives."

"Thank you," he whispers, giving a small nod of gratitude before excusing himself. Their brief conversation gives him more questions than answers, drudges up more of his old self-doubts and brings them to the forefront of his mind once more. He is ever aware of how he does not fit with the rest of his kin. He is an anomaly, with his bare face and lithe body and archery skills, with his soft heart and over-affectionate nature. Some days, he desperately wishes he were anyone but himself, wishes that he could be more like his brother.

To his eyes, Fíli is the prefect example of a proper dwarf. In recent years, he watched his brother grow and change into a worthy prince. He was shrewd but kind, skilled in battle and metalwork, intelligent and rational and levelheaded…in short, he was everything that Kíli was not. He could see his brother, as a great king of Erebor, once Thorin passed the reign on to him, but he never really could see himself, never really knew where he would fit.

With a sigh, he quickens his steps toward home, pushing his troubled thoughts away in favor of excitement for his uncle's eminent return.

Fíli wipes his brow with a damp cloth from the washbasin, clearing the sweat and grime from another day's training session from his face. It felt like it had been ages since he and Dwalin had managed to spare the time to get in a decent round of practice, and it was a welcome break from the dull meetings he often found himself trapped in with Balin.

"You've developed quite a style with your swords, laddie," his weapons master comments with a wry smile. "You and your uncle both seem to favor a more…fluid technique," he says with a chuckle.

"Looks much nicer than all that hacking about you and Kíli are prone to," he fires back, pleased at the outright laughter his comment pulls from Dwalin.

"That 'hacking' is quite efficient, mind you!" he quips, chucking his own washrag at him. "Some of us don't have time for all that twirly nonsense."

"Hmm, perhaps," Fíli says in mock consideration as he finishes wiping his hands clean. "I suppose we could just ask Uncle his opinion when he returns?"

Dwalin scoffs at that. "Hardly unbiased, he is," he grumbles lightly, before clapping a hand on Fíli's shoulder as they head from the training grounds. "How is your brother?"

He sighs, resists the urge to chew on his bottom lip in concern. "He's…distant, I suppose?" he replies uncertainly. "I don't know, honestly. There's something…off with him, though I cannot place my finger on it."

Dwalin makes a small sound of agreement. "I think it hurt him greatly to learn of dwarrow being kept in slavery," he murmurs. "He's quite pure-hearted, your brother. He's always felt the hurts of others as deeply as if they were his own. I would bet that has left him unsettled."

"Pure-hearted…Uncle's said that about him as well, like it's something…odd," he says with a frown. "What does that even mean?"

"Well," Dwalin sighs. "It means that he's usually more concerned about others than about himself, that he's more…altruistic and kinder than most. It's not such an odd thing, not really. In Erebor, dwarrow pride themselves on shrewdness and aloofness, but that's not the case everywhere." A wistful smile crosses his features. "It's certainly not the case here, in the Blue Mountains. Bofur, Bifur, and Bombur certainly seem to exemplify that. And your father, well…he was as pure-hearted as they come."

"He was, wasn't he?" Fíli murmurs. "I don't…I don't remember a lot about him, but everyone always speaks of his kindness."

"Aye; that was what drew your mother to him in the first place. She was used to fake kindness, from those, like Dain, who admired her station instead of her," he grumbles, with just a bit of a bite to it. "But your Da…he was as kind as he could be from the day they met. I don't think he even knew who she was until he started courting her and Thorin threatened to throttle him."

Fíli laughs at that. He'd always wondered how his uncle would have taken to their courting. He knew how close he had been to him mother, and couldn't imagine him being anything but protective of her.

By then, she was all he'd had left.

"It's remarkable to me," Dwalin murmurs a moment later, "how similar Kíli is to your Da. And that's why I worry so much for him. Your Da's kindness got him killed in the end…"

"Stop," Fíli interrupts sharply. "Just…that won't be Kíli. I…I won't let it be. Neither will Uncle."

"Nor will I," Dwalin agrees. "I…your brother may one day swear an oath to Thorin, laddie, to protect the both of you with life and limb, but…" He stops them as they're walking and grasps him firmly by the shoulder, making sure he looks him in the eye. "But I have sworn an oath of my own to him," he says, absolute certainty in his voice. "That I will protect Kili with my life, if that's what it requires."

"Mis-mister Dwalin…I…" A sudden wave of emotion crashes over him – gratitude, relief, even fear at the thought of losing his weapons master – and he finds it difficult to speak. "Thank you," he manages.

Dwalin gives him an uncharacteristically soft smile and pats him on the cheek before they continue their journey through the halls.

It's later than he would like it to be when he finally returns home. He'd sought out Balin as soon as he'd returned to the settlement, as he'd needed to deliver his notes and findings from his travels.

He'd followed rumor after rumor of his father's whereabouts, but he'd not been able to find hide nor hair of him. Yet, everywhere, there had been clues, murmurs of a senile dwarf roaming about that matched his father's description. It frustrated him to no end. He hadn't allowed himself to hope his father had lived for years, and, now that he did, it seemed it was all for naught.

He needed to be careful in where he placed his faith. There were few he could tryst, and all of them were waiting for him within the settlement's walls.

He shakes his head to clear his negative thoughts and focuses on his excitement to see his boys. He has missed them more than he dares to admit, especially when he'd received word from the scout of what had transpired regarding the slave traders. He'd wanted nothing more than to ride through the night, to push his pony to its limits to get home as soon as possible. As it was, it had taken the scouts over a week to catch up to him, and just as long for him to get home.

One his initial fear and panic had ebbed away, he couldn't help but feel extremely proud of his boys. Of Kíli, who'd so selflessly thought of others (if he had been a tad reckless), and of Fíli, who'd kept a level head and managed to get his brother home safely (along with all of the rescued slaves). He could see them now, ruling as a pair…Fíli, as the dutiful and proud king, and Kíli, as his passionate and loyal general. They would be heralded as the greatest of Durin's line well after their days, of that he was certain.

His only doubt lie in his own ability to reclaim the mountain.

He doesn't even get the door closed behind him before one of his boys launches at him, arms winding around his neck and nearly toppling him over. He fully expects it to be Kíli, but it's blond hair that's in his vision, not brown.

"Uncle," Fíli breathes out, sounding wholly relieved as he presses himself impossibly close in a way he hasn't for many years.

"Fíli," he whispers, reaching one hand up to tangle in his hair as he presses a kiss to his forehead. His heir burrows in close, tucking his head in against his neck. "I've missed you, lad," he admits, giving him another affectionate squeeze.

"Missed you so much," the lad murmurs against his skin. "Uncle…Uncle I messed everything up. I didn't…I didn't mean to but I just…"

"Shh," he cuts him off, though no unkindly. "Hush, Fíli; you've messed up nothing. All is well. I promise you." He presses another kiss into his hair. "You put too much pressure on yourself. You've done more than I could have asked you to."

Fíli coughs out a rough breath, one that sound suspiciously like a sob, but he nods against him nonetheless.

"Where is your brother?" he asks after a moment, genuinely curious and mildly concerned.

Fíli sniffles a bit and starts to pull away from him. "We were waiting for you an' he fell asleep."

Thorin regards him carefully, pulls the hand free from his hair and brushes a hand across his cheek before pressing their foreheads together. "Thank you," he murmurs sincerely. "I fear I always ask too much of you, yet you never complain."

Fíli just shakes his head. "I didn't…I let you down. I didn't keep him safe, Uncle; I nearly got him killed! It was…it was my fault."

"No, my boy; no," he says softly. "You are not to blame for this. You could not have known. And, from what I have heard, it is because of you, that they found him so swiftly." When Fíli looks like he is about to protest again, he shakes his head. "You are not to blame, Fíli. I swear this to you."

His heir finally nods in agreement, but when he blinks a few tears manage to slip free, and he easily brushes them aside.

"I am proud of you," he continues. "You fought well in battle and brought your brother home safely. You helped to save all of those slaves, to give them their lives back. You've done nothing wrong."

Fíli nods again. "Thank you," he whispers so quietly he can barely hear.

"Come on," he murmurs gently, tucking Fíli under his arm as they make their way to the sitting room. Kíli is, as his brother had said, sound asleep in the armchair, and Thorin's heart lightens the instant that he sees both of his lads are well.

"Kee," Fíli says softly, just as Thorin reaches down to card a hand through the lad's hair. Kíli blinks awake slowly, but snaps awake as soon as he sees his uncle's face.

"Uncle!" he cries out, pure happiness in his voice as he flings his arms around his neck to embrace him tightly. Fíli chuckles softly at the display, caught up in the hug as he is still pressed against Thorin's side. "So glad you're home," he murmurs. "Missed you."

"And I you, lads," he whispers in return after he kisses Kíli's forehead, wrapping his arms around both of his boys and embracing them tightly, incredibly grateful to be home and with his precious nephews. He doesn't dare let them go. As frustrated as he is that he wasn't able to find his father after months of searching, he takes comfort in the fact that he still has his boys.

That night, he falls asleep in the way he always used to, with one sister-son tucked securely against each side. They may very well be nearly fully-grown lads, and the three of them may just barely fit onto his bed, but he doesn't care; he isn't concerned with coddling them too much, not this time. In recent years he's realized that they will always be his boys, no matter how big or old they grow.

And it is that thought that warms him down to his soul as he drifts off to sleep.

I am planning on posting a whole series of outtakes and interludes from Greater than Gold once the main story is finished (if there's interest, of course!), so this will probably be expanded upon. I just wanted to wrap up some loose ends before the story progressed any farther.