AN – I am so, so sorry that this one took forever. Real life exploded in a lot of ways, both terrible and fantastic. However, I am back on track now, and since my feels were thoroughly destroyed by BotFA, I need to finish my story and share it with you.

Warnings: Angst. Mention of character death.

Greater than Gold
Chapter 23: Eighty-One and Seventy-Six
By Displaced Hobbit

He discretely grabs Fíli shoulder as the lad files into their dining room with the others, pulling him calmly to a stop. "Are you sure your brother is sufficiently distracted?" he asks, voice scarcely above a whisper, nodding in greeting to Dori as the other dwarf passes.

Fíli nods, but he doesn't meet his gaze, eyes instead watching as the dwarrow settle around the table. Thorin can feel the guilt that weighs on his heir's shoulders, and, not for the first time, hates himself for putting the boy in this impossible position. "He should be," he answers just as quietly. "Missus Eila sent him off to run errands and things for the tavern. Bombur made a hefty list for him."

He hums quietly, genuinely pleased with this bit of information, before releasing his nephew's arm and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you, my boy. I know this has not been easy on you," he murmurs.

Fíli gives him a smile that's more of a grimace before excusing himself to join the rest of the dwarrow that have gathered around their modest table, still never meeting his gaze. Thorin is sorry, honestly well and truly is, but he hasn't been able to find the words to express as much to Fíli. With a weary sigh, Thorin follows their last guest, the wizard Gandalf, into the dining room, taking his own seat at the head of the table.

There is a brief bit of chaos as they gather round and vie for chairs; all of them are practically vibrating with excitement, even Fíli, though he is substantially more subdued than the others. With a soft, fond smile he regards the eleven dwarves and one wizard that have gathered with him in his home.

His company. The dwarves that will travel with him to reclaim Erebor, their home.

Gandalf, their grand orchestrator, sits observing the company as well, contentedly puffing his pipe as he regards them with a mildly amused expression. Fíli sits to the wizard's left, pointedly ignoring Thorin's gaze and watching the rest of the company converse across the table.

There was Dwalin and Balin, of course, who had as much cause for reclaiming the mountain as he did. They had been at his side through all of their trials since that accursed dragon came, and he would not dare depart the Blue Mountains without them. The three of them had been planning this quest for as long as he could remember, and now, they were at the cusp of their journey. Dwalin catches his eye and gives him a reassuring smile, followed by a swift nod.

Then, there was Dori, with his impressive strength, and Nori, with his quick wit and cunning (and Gandalf had insisted they needed a burglar). Ori had been a surprise addition, at Nori's request no less, but they did need a scribe, and he was of age and capable of making the decision for himself. Thorin knew that it sat ill with Dori, but the eldest brother had yet to make an attempt to deter the lad, as Ori was more than excited to be included amongst the company. Oin would accompany them as their healer, and Gloin had agreed to join them once he'd assured safe lodging for his son in his absence.

There was also Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur, who he hadn't meant to include in this quest. They were natives to the blue mountain, and Bofur had sworn to look after Kíli during their absence, but he slowly began to realize that he needed them, more so when Gandalf insisted that their company was too small to hope to be successful. Though Bifur could no longer speak, he was a skilled fighter, one whom Thorin had been able to rely on in the past. Bombur was as tenacious as any dwarf he'd ever met, and with the added bonus of his cooking skills it had been hard to discredit him simply due to his size. Finally there was Bofur, who he'd slowly come to think of as a member of their family, as his loyalty was unmatched by any outside of his kin.

Thorin knew this was the fact that discomforted Fíli the most. He had been barely on board with the plan when Kíli was going to be under Bofur's care and, as a result, had been extremely distraught will Thorin's alternative plan for Kíli to stay at the Inn, with Eila, as she had already consented to looking after Gloin's son Gimli. Thorin didn't much like it either, but he had no other choice. Not if he meant to keep Kíli safe.

"Is that all of us, then?" Balin asks, pulling him from his revere. Thorin gives him a small nod, allowing him to lead their meeting for the time being. Their goal for this evening is to get the contracts signed and finalize their travel plans to Bree.

"Let's get all of this taken care of so we can eat!" Bombur says good-naturedly, drawing a hearty chuckle from the group.

"Quite right, laddie," Balin murmurs as he produces the contracts from his satchel, distributing them around the room. "Now, we are a company of twelve, bound for Erebor…"

"Well what about Mister Gandalf?" Dori interrupts, sending a wary glance to the wizard. "Won't you be coming with us?"

Gandalf just smiles and waves his hand dismissively. "I will accompany you as far as I am able to, Master Dwarf, and give you guidance for when I cannot. Though I need not be bound by any contract. I do not seek part of the treasure for myself. I only wish to see Smaug dethroned and the mountain reclaimed."

The assembled dwarves cast each other wary, curious looks, until another kindly smile from the old wizard sets them at ease. Surely several of them were thinking that the old wizard might change his tune at the sight of the riches of Erebor, though none of them commented on.

"Of course, read through it all before you sign," Balin continues, relieving the slight tension that had settled into the room. "Main thing is that you will receive one twelfth of whatever treasure remains in the mountain if we are successful."

A satisfied murmur flutters through the company, before Gandalf's steady voice cuts in. "Though I still think your company is too small," he says thoughtfully. "Perhaps there are a few others you would have accompany you?"

Thorin shakes his head. "There is no one else," he says with an air of finality, though a few of the company squirm uncomfortably at his declaration.

"I still think it worthwhile to find an additional burglar, no offense to Master Nori, of course," the wizard continues when the ginger-haired dwarf shoots him a particularly nasty look.

"I do not trust anyone else for that task," he replies gruffly. Clearly, Gandalf did not understand just what the Arkenstone meant for his people.

"I may have someone in mind, someone who could easily slip past Smaug's defenses," Gandalf utters cryptically. "Though we can discuss this matter at a later time."

"Very well," Balin murmurs after a moment of silence, once again diffusing the tension that had settled over the room. "In any event, it would take a majority vote by the company to allow any other members in, as it would lessen your profits," he explains, and he's met with nodding heads and murmurs of agreement. "The most important thing is that this quest is of the utmost secrecy. You cannot breathe a word of your whereabouts or our end goal to anyone, not even family." At that, he sends a pointed glance to Fíli, who is idly picking at the hem of his tunic. "You may tell them that we're headed to the Iron Hills to meet with Dain, but nothing more."

Fíli reluctantly nods, frown still marring his normally cheery features. For the millionth time, Thorin hates that he is the one who put it there.

"Are we all clear on this?" Thorin asks, clearing his throat to hide the tremor in his voice. When he is met with approval from the rest of the company, he nods at Balin to continue. "There are too many who would seek the wealth or Erebor for themselves, and would kill us without a second thought to seize it." He quickly makes eye contact with each of them (save for Fíli, who is still rather interested in his tunic sleeve), reinforcing the necessity of secrecy. He can see no reason to distrust any of them, which greatly puts his mind at ease.

"Now, Ori, fetch me that map," Balin says, and Thorin can see the pressure lift from Fíli's shoulders at the change of discussion.

They've been at it for several hours; the contracts have been signed, and their travel plans for Bree are nearly finalized. Balin has finishing splitting them up into smaller groups to avoid arousing suspicion when they begin to depart. They lapse into little more than quiet murmurs as they look over their maps, when Thorin hears it – the quiet, damning creak of their front door being pushed open.

Fíli's head snaps up, face going startlingly pale as he frantically looks to his uncle, confirming that he'd heard the sound as well. None of the others seem to have noticed, but they are not as attuned to the sounds of their home. For a second, he manages to convince himself that he and Fíli simply misheard, or even that, somehow, they'd merely imagined the same sound, until Kíli pokes his head into the room, the easy smile slipping from his face when he takes in its occupants.

"What's all this?" he quietly calls from the door.

The room falls completely silent as the rest of the company turns to regard their intruder with varying levels of shock. Bofur goes just as pale as Fíli, before averting his gaze to the floor. Several of them look to Thorin and the wizard, unwilling to speak first, lest they say the wrong thing.

"Uncle?" Kíli tries again as he steps farther into the room, and Thorin knows he must be able to see the maps and contracts strewn about the table, that he must be able to guess their purpose.

"This does not concern you, Kíli," he manages to say, throat constricting with guilt. He resolutely looks up at the lad as he speaks, determined to put up a strong front and hold his ground, but immediately wishes he hadn't. Kíli jerks back as if he has been hit, and he can do nothing more but watch the lad's face crumple as he realizes the implication of Thorin's words. Desperately, he looks to all the others in the company, but no one meets his gaze.

"Fíli?" he all but whispers, disbelief coloring his shaking voice. His heir only squeezes his eyes tightly shut and lets his head fall, chin coming to rest on his chest, guilt and grief and regret rolling off of him in waves.

Thorin steels himself; he expected that Kíli would be angry if he found out about their quest and fight to be included. He'd prepared for Kíli to be hostile, had even rehearsed what he would say so that his voice wouldn't crack and he wouldn't cave to the lad's desire to accompany them.

He wasn't prepared for this, wasn't prepared for the way Kíli seemed to fold in on himself, as if the realization of being left behind weighed so heavily upon him that he could hardly bear it. He wasn't prepared to see the quiet betrayal shining in his nephew's eyes as clear as day, or to hear the softly whispered 'oh,' as he backed out of the room.

He wasn't prepared for how the slamming of the door as Kíli fled their home felt like a knife to his heart.

They sit in stunned silence for several long moments, with Fíli's lightly panicked breathing as the only sound echoing in the room. Dwalin lifts a hand and places it on the boy's shoulder, but Fíli immediately shrugs it off with a frustrated little huff.

"I think we could all use a break," Gandalf declares quietly, just as Dwalin mutters, "I should go after 'im." Both are met with soft murmurs of agreement from the rest of the dwarrow, and Fíli pushes back his chair, the screech of it along the floor echoing overloud in the room. He wastes no time in rising from his seat and quickly pushing past the others, retreating to the room he shares with his brother.

The rest of them gradually rise from the table, some of them venturing into the kitchen for snacks, or into the sitting room to speak quietly with one another. Dwalin claps a hand on Thorin's shoulder as he passes him, and Thorin can see that his friend feels just as guilty about this entire situation as he does. "You take care of him," the warrior murmurs, tipping his head in the direction of the lad's bedroom. "I'll tend to Kíli. I have a feeling I know where he's gone."

Thorin finds himself unable to do anything but nod in agreement, still in shock at Kíli's reaction.

And for the first time, he wonders if his decision to exclude his youngest nephew was wrong.

Kíli walks through the halls in a daze, struggling to process what he has seen. The walls of the mountain feel tight around him, so he drags one hand along the cool surface of the stone to keep himself from imagining the walls closing in on him. His chest feels tight, his clothes overly warm, and he very much wants to cry, but he won't. Not here, where there are too many prying eyes to see him.

They were leaving him. All of them. Every last dwarf that he had come to love and view as a member of his family. They were leaving him and having secret meetings about it. He'd been an unwanted guest in his own home.

Thorin had spoken of the quest all of Kíli's life, but it had always seemed like nothing more than a distant eventuality. He'd just assumed that he and Fíli would be older, seasoned warriors by the time the quest happened, that it would be an obvious choice for the both of them to travel by their Uncle's side. Even still, the quest had constantly been there, glimmering on the horizon, if only too far away to be reached. They were waiting for signs. They were waiting for help. They were always waiting for something to signal that the time had come.

Maybe they were never waiting, a darker part of his mind sneers at him. Maybe that was just a lie to keep you in the dark.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Fíli wouldn't lie to him. Fíli never lied to him.

But he had, hadn't he? His brother hadn't even looked at him when he'd stumbled into their kitchen. Fíli's shoulders had stayed hunched with shame the entire time.

It hurts, far more than he wanted to admit. How could they? How could they all agree to leave him here alone? How could his uncle choose to bring Ori, of all dwarrow, and not him? How could Mister Bofur, who always looked after him when Thorin had to travel, decide to leave him on his own? How could Fíli lie to him?

Did they really think so little of him?

His numbed legs carry him out of the halls, into the mockingly bright sunlight outside. The marketplace bustles with activity, and several dwarrow fix him with odd looks as he passes. He makes his way to the wall without anyone approaching him (several dwarves hastily skitter out of his way), until he reaches the guard standing watch. Inwardly, he curses; he's still not supposed to leave the settlement on his own.

"I'm just going to check the snares," he mumbles, suddenly terrified that he won't be able to leave and he'll have nowhere to go but back home. "Mister Dwalin said it was alright," he lies. "I'm not going far."

The guard, a dwarf that he doesn't know, but recognizes from Fíli's patrol, eyes him critically for a moment, before waving him through. "Haven't seen any orcs or goblins out in ages, but stay on your guard," he urges.

Kíli nods as he passes, managing to utter some semblance of 'thank you,' before retreating passed the tree line. The pressure on his chest lessens the second he's under the cover of the trees, but his hold over his emotions falters. He moves his legs faster, not quite running, as he all but stumbles through the woods, eventually reaching one of the many streams that crisscross through the forest.

He collapses onto an outcropping of rocks that juts out over the stream, his legs finally giving out and refusing to carry him any farther.

His breath comes in harsh, ragged gasps. How could they? Was he really such a burden?

He must be.

His tears come fast and unbidden, his tenuous control over his emotions snapping now that he has found solitude.

He chokes out a broken sob as all of his fears came to light. He is nothing more than Thorin's burden, the lesser heir to Fíli's golden prince. Unwanted. Unloved. Fit to be abandoned and left behind. Left alone. Unwelcome in his own home.

He wants to scream, but he knows he cannot. It would attract the attention of the guard, and by nightfall all would know what a sniveling, useless coward he was. With a keening whine, he folds in on himself, collapsing against the cool, moist stone, biting one hand to keep himself from screaming out his anguish.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! He had worked so hard, done so much to prove himself worthy, but he was still…nothing.

He hears the snap of a twig, but he doesn't start or panic. He knows that gait, knows the cadence of those strides, and doesn't have to look to see Dwalin approaching him. "Come here, laddie," the warrior says once he kneels beside him, and Kíli feels strong hands lifting him and pulling him up against a broad chest. Weakly, he pushes and tries to get away, a frustrated noise scraping out of his throat. Dwalin is leaving him. They're all leaving him.

"No," he grinds out pitifully, futility trying to push away, but the shock of his afternoon and the aftermath of his crying fit have left him too weak to even budge himself from Dwalin's strong grip. "No," he whimpers again, half-heartedly ponding his fist against the warrior's chest. "You're leaving me. Just go."

"No," Dwalin refuses. "No, I need you to listen to me," he pleads, and Kíli doesn't miss the way his voice breaks. "There are some things you need to know, laddie. Some things you need to understand." The warrior holds him tightly and rocks him until the worst of his tears have subsided. With a sigh, Dwalin produces a handkerchief from his pocket, and dips it into the cool water of the stream before gently wiping it across Kíli's face.

All Kíli can do is sit there, leaned against his weapons master's chest, numbed to everything but the dull ache in his chest. Dwalin loves him, he knows. He loves both him and his brother as if they were his own sons, as shown in rare, tender moments of affection like this one. It makes the ache in his heart double; he'd be happier if Dwalin would treat him like he was nothing.

"I promise you, laddie," he continues a moment later, voice hushed and quiet in the forest. "No one wants you to be left here alone."

Kíli scoffs at that and brings a hand up to rub at his nose. "If no one wants it then why are you all still planning to leave?" he asks, voice sounding like a bitter wreck.

"You don't know what you are," Dwalin all but whispers, voice barely audible over the stream.

Curious, Kíli shifts and breaks free from their embrace, looking at Dwalin's face apprehensively. "What do you mean?"

Dwalin doesn't look at him. His gaze stays focused on the rushing waters of the stream as he thoughtfully chews his lower lip, clearly warring with himself. "What do you know of spares?" he finally asks.

Kíli frowns, remembering an incident with the dwarf lord of the Iron Hills so long ago. "Dain called me that," he says softly. "The first time I met him. I didn't know what it meant. I asked Fíli but he said he didn't know either." He sees the angry tick in Dwalin's jaw, remembering how angry the dwarf had been at Dain's antics that day. "What…what does it mean?"

"It means," Dwalin begins, "that you are the second heir to the throne." He pauses, appearing to war with himself once more. Kíli sits quietly, small sense of dread filling him. He hadn't thought much on it, but apparently it really meant something, and by the look of his weapons master's face, it meant something bad.

"Mister Dwalin…" he prompts quietly when the warrior does not continue for several long moments. "What does it mean?"

Dwalin sighs, and Kíli can see the sheen of unshed tears over his eyes. "It means that your life is meant to be forfeit," he explains, voice breaking once more. "It means that, once you come of age, you swear an oath to protect your prince and king with life and limb. You are never meant to sit on the throne of Erebor; you are meant to die to protect it."

Kíli sits shock still as all the puzzle pieces click into place, staring at Dwalin with his mouth agape.

"Thorin fears that, to bring you on this quest, you would have to fulfill that oath, as Frerin did so many years ago," Dwalin elaborates. "We've no idea what we could encounter on the road, what we could encounter once we reach the mountain. You are safer here."

Kíli shakes his head. "No," he whispers fiercely. "No! If it's my duty to protect them then that's where I belong, Dwalin. By their sides."

To his surprise, Dwalin smiles, a strange little smile that is equal parts pride and sadness. "I know," he agrees, before reaching out and threading his fingers though Kíli's hair, pulling him close and pressing their foreheads together tenderly. "That's exactly where you should be, though none of us have the heart to put you there." Dwalin gives the back of his head a gentle squeeze. "You have no idea how much you mean to Thorin. To your brother. To me," he continues, tone soft. "And we are a selfish lot, you see. None of us will say to bring you with us even though we know that is where you belong."

"Mister Dwalin…" he murmurs, mind still reeling from the warrior's confession. In his heart, he knows he would be honored to give his life so that his brother or uncle would survive. They were his entire world; they were all he had. He could understand why they were resistant, however, and Dwalin's words made him feel guilty for his earlier thoughts of abandonment. Of course they wouldn't think of abandoning him. Of course they wouldn't. "I have to…I have to come with you," he stammers. "I…I couldn't…I couldn't bear it if anything happened to them…to anyone if I wasn't there to help. Dwalin, please." He searches his weapons master's face for any sign that he will relent. "Please. Trust me. I can do this. I can help. I belong there," he rambles, all but begging.

Finally, Dwalin nods. "I know," he murmurs again. "I know. I will…I will speak with Thorin, and the company," he promises. "I cannot guarantee you be permitted to come, but I…I will vouch for you."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Kíli throws his arms around Dwalin and hugs him tight, a sob of relief busting from his lungs before he utters a quiet mantra of 'thank you's. Dwalin grips him just as tightly and presses a kiss against his hair.

"And know this," he whispers, voice gruff with emotion. "I will protect you with everything I have. Everything," he swears.

Kíli doesn't doubt him for a second.

Thorin doesn't bother knocking on the door to the lad's bedroom. He can hear Fíli's angry pacing through the thick wood that separates them, and he isn't looking forward to this conversation. He hesitates outside the door, unwilling to go inside, but knowing that he must all the same.

He'd failed them. Both of them.

Fíli had trusted him. Thorin had promised that Kíli wouldn't find out, that they would make this as painless as possible for him, that he would be kept safe. And he'd mucked it all up. Kíli knew, and it had crushed him, just as Fíli had predicted. Thorin had no idea what would happen next, but he knew that Fíli was overburdened with a guilt he never should have had to bear. And Thorin was the one who had put it there.

He couldn't imagine what Kíli would do now. He trusted that Dwalin would find him and keep him safe, but now that he knew of the quest…his mind supplied him with plenty of scenarios, from the lad forsaking them and running away, never to be seen again, or that Kíli, the excellent tracker that he was, would follow them regardless of his inclusion. None of played nicely in his head. Kíli would either despise him for his deception or be lost on the quest. There was no happy ending that he could see. He'd lost Kíli, he was sure of it.

And now he would lose Fíli too.

Finally, he musters up the courage and pushes open the door, slipping in as discretely as possible before letting it fall shut behind him. "Fíli," he calls when the lad doesn't even acknowledge him.

Abruptly, Fíli stops and fixes him with a fierce, albeit teary glare. "This is your fault," he hisses, anger radiating from his shaking form. He's only seen his heir so angry a handful of times, all of them when someone or something threatened Kíli. "You lied to me," he continues. "You gave me your word that he wouldn't find out. That this wouldn't hurt him! And you lied!" he snaps, two fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, and Thorin almost wishes he would strike him.

He'd deserve it.

"I did not mean for him to find out this way," Thorin says, raising his hands in surrender when Fíli looks ready to lash into him once more. "The fault is mine," he admits. "I was careless to have us meet in our own home. Foolish even."

"I'm not going," Fíli snaps, voice venomous. "I will not leave him here. I will not lie to him anymore. Not for you."

"Fíli," he implores, deeply hurt by his nephew's words, but knowing he deserves it all the same. "I need you with me. You are my heir; you deserve to step foot into those halls as we reclaim the mountain."

"Does Kíli not deserve the same?" Fíli protests. "Is he not your heir?"

"You know what he is, Fíli…"

"He is my brother. He is all that I have," he interrupts, voice shaking with emotion. "I will not leave him here hurting to follow you. You take both of us or none at all." He fixes him with a glare that is pure iron and steel and leaves no room for argument. "Leave me," he practically snarls. "I have to find a way to heal the hurts you have caused."

Thorin flees from the room like a small child escaping a scolding, retreating to his own room where he leans heavily against the door once he closes it tight behind him, barricading himself away from Fíli and the rest of the company. He doesn't know what to do.

He either leaves them behind, knowing that neither of them would ever trust him again, or he risks everything he has to keep them both by his side.

It is an impossible choice.

"You take both of us or none at all."

The dwarrow congregated in the sitting room cast nervous glances around at each other. Fíli's angry shout had effectively silenced the light chatter they had engaged in. Finally, Bofur says what many of them were already thinking.

"Would it be so bad?"

Balin shoots him a nasty glare. "This quest would assure his death. I find it hard to imagine that we will be able to reach the mountain without any threats to Thorin or Fíli's lives."

"But there would be ten of us they'd have to fight through to even get to him," Nori observes. "We all swore oaths to protect the line of Durin; does that not include Kíli?"

Several of them murmur in agreement, but Balin, Dori, and Oin shake their heads.

"He's not even of age," Dori grumbles. "Our youths have no place on a quest like this."

"And it would be foolish to risk the entire line of Durin at once. Our enemies could use one attack alone to wipe them out," Balin continues, finality in his tone.

"But again, they'd have to fight through all of us," Gloin says. Oin glares at him. "Oh, what? You'd be all right with leaving me behind on a quest that you may not survive? You wouldn't fight for me to come along?"

Oin's expression turns thoughtful. "Yes," he admits. "I would. Families aren't meant to be split." Bofur and Bombur also share a meaningful glance.

"And you and I aren't even half as close as those two are," Gloin murmurs. "It would be torture to split them apart. The lad is right; they go together or not at all."

Balin shakes his head. "You're all mad," he mutters as he stalks back into the kitchen

"Perhaps we should call for a vote once things have settled a bit," Gandalf, who had previously been a silent observer, suggests. "That is how it is worded in the contract, is it not? If the company votes to include another member, then included they shall be."

"Aye," Bofur murmurs quietly. "Perhaps we should."

"Go on, laddie," Dwalin murmurs once they've stepped back into the settlement. "I'm sure Missus Eila still needs your help; I'll send for you when all is done."

Kíli nods, trepidation clear in his features, and hesitates for just a moment before doing as he's asked.

He's a good lad, Dwalin knows; he is kind-hearted and fiercely loyal. He would be a fine addition to the company, and were Dwalin not so attached to him, he would have fought for his inclusion earlier. Still, he is afraid to voice his feelings, to see how Thorin and Fíli would react.

He hasn't forgotten Frerin.

Dwalin was the one who had stumbled upon the brothers after Azanulbizar. He was the one who found Thorin clutching the lifeless body of his beloved little brother, and when Thorin could not find the strength to stand and carry himself forward, he was the one to lift Frerin's broken form into his arms and bring him back to his people, with Thorin leaning so heavily on his side.

They were young, so young, and far, far too young to know such hurts.

Had Frerin survived, he has no doubt that Thorin would think nothing of bringing his youngest heir on their quest. Kíli was a skilled enough warrior, and his tendency to be a bit reckless in his fighting style had been tempered in the years since he joined the patrol. There was no reason not to bring him, aside from Thorin's fear of loss.

He knows that asking Thorin to reconsider and call for a vote to bring Kíli means that he is asking his closest friend to risk reliving the worst of his horrors. Yet, he cannot sit idly by at let this happen, not now that Kíli knows. He has to try.

With a sigh and a glance to the lad's retreating form, he steels himself as he sets off for Thorin's home.

If this inevitably means that his life is forfeit for Kíli's, then that is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Fíli paces for a while longer, trying desperately to quell his anger. He knows he was out of line with Thorin, but he could not have helped it.

This was wrong. He knew it from the moment Thorin had asked him to lie to his brother. Yet Fíli had been willing, as he always aimed to please his uncle, and Kíli's safety was paramount in his mind. But always it sat ill with him. Kíli had picked up on his souring mood, of course, which only led to more lies.

He thought he was doing this to keep Kíli safe, but the more he thought on it, the more he realized just how dangerous the settlement would be. Their population had never really recovered from Thorin's sudden departure a few years prior. Their guard numbered at just sixty dwarrow, tasked with protecting the three hundred or so who still lived within the halls. Goblins had become more prominent near their lands, and though they were easy enough to dispose of, it was dangerous work.

He did not like the thought of removing two of their highest-ranking warriors and leaving lesser dwarrow in charge. Their inexperience in battle could put Kíli in danger.

There was also the realization that Kíli would probably have to go back to the mines. The tavern would not need as much help as it once did, not now that their population was dwindling. He would have to take on something else to make enough coin to survive. Perhaps he could manage with making carvings or working in the forge, but Fíli still feared it would not be enough.

What distressed him the most was that he wouldn't be able to protect his brother. He would be half a world away. If something were to happen…

There would be nothing he could do.

He saw it now. If there was no place for Kíli on this quest, then there was no place for him either.

The sound of their front door slamming shut snaps him out of his thoughts and dissipates his anger. He hastily exits his bedroom and ventures into the front room. "Kíli?" he calls as he reaches it, but is dismayed to only see Dwalin. "Where is he?"

"Back at the Inn; finishing up his tasks," the warrior explains, but there is an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Where is your uncle?"

"Here," Thorin says as he emerges from behind him. "Shall we continue?" he murmurs, gesturing toward their living room.

"I propose a vote," Dwalin declares, his brow set in a determined line. "I propose that we vote to include Kíli in the company."

Thorin lets out a surprised gasp, but he doesn't look back to see his expression. Pure adrenaline courses through him, and Fíli is as surprised as everyone else when he says, "I second."

"I think that would be wise," Gandalf agrees, offering a warm smile of encouragement to Fíli.

Thorin is quiet for a long while. The other members of the company are nervously looking among the three of them as they wait. Their rightful king as full control over the company; he could refuse to allow the vote, and there would be little they could do to persuade him to reconsider.

"Very well," Thorin finally whispers, his tone tight and guarded. He only sounds that way when he is hurt or threatened, and a tiny bit of guilt gnaws at the back of Fíli's mind for making him feel that way. He and Dwalin have forced his hand, and Thorin would have to accept whatever decision the company came to.

But no. No. This was for Kíli. This was the right thing to do.

Wordlessly, they all return to the table and settle into their respective seats. Fíli realizes that his hands are still shaking, so he keeps them clenched against his thighs, hidden under the table. This is it. They either vote to include Kíli, or Fíli will void his contract and leave.

They go together. He won't leave his brother alone. Ever.

"Let us get to it, then," Balin says. "We vote to add Kíli, son of Dís to the company. A majority vote is all that is required; that means seven. If accepted, your share in the wealth will become one-thirteenth of all profits." He looks around the table, finally settling on Dwalin. "What say you?"

"Aye," Dwalin says with a regretful glance at Thorin. "He belongs with us. He belongs in the company."

Balin nods and records his vote, then turns to Dori, who sits to Dwalin's right. "Nay," he says. "He is too young," he adds as clarification.

Nori comes next. "Aye." Then Thorin, with a quick and definitive "nay." Gloin votes to bring his brother in, but Oin does not. Gandalf, as he is not an official member of the company, does not vote. Balin votes against, but Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur are for it.

Six votes. His is the last one they need. Voice trembling, he manages to utter, "aye," and is a little surprised to hear Ori say the same.

Eight for. Four against.

Kíli is coming with them.

Relief floods him in waves. He knows that he will do everything in his power to keep Kíli from harm, to keep him from needing to fulfill his oath. He will be careful, and if he is careful then his life won't even be in danger, and Kíli will be safe.

Thorin closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. Fíli doesn't miss how haunted his uncle looks when his eyes reopen.

Doubt fills him then, and he wonders if he's just helped to send his brother to his death. No, he scolds himself. No, he won't let it happen.

"Very well then," Balin whispers, looking just as stricken as Thorin. "We will offer a contract to the lad."

"Send for him, then," Thorin demands Dwalin. "And fetch me when you've returned," he adds, before standing and leaving the room without a backward glance.

"Thank you," Fíli murmurs, and Dwalin echoes him as he stands to leave, giving him a soft, fond smile as he does.

"We'll help to protect him, lad," Bofur promises, and the rest of them, even those who had been opposed to bringing his brother with them, nod in agreement.

"Kíli, son of Dís, spare to the throne of Erebor," Balin speaks, voice clear and firm in the evening air. They have gathered in the sitting room, Thorin sitting in an armchair as if it were a throne, Fíli standing to his right and Kíli kneeling before them. The rest of them are gathered around, watching in silence. "Do you swear to protect your King and Prince for as long as you draw breath?"

Kíli's voice is firm when he answers. "I swear."

"Do you swear to preserve the line of Durin with shield and body? To forfeit you life in favor of theirs, should dire situations require it?"

This time, his voice trembles a bit. "I swear."

"And do you, Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, accept this oath?" Balin asks, turning now to look at his old friend.

Thorin sits quietly for a long moment, eyes watching Kíli intently. The lad begins to grow antsy under his intense gaze. "I do not," Thorin finally says.

Kíli nearly collapses in shock and disappointment, and the twelve other observers turn to regard Thorin critically. "Thorin," Dwalin warns, clearly ready to argue, but Thorin only raises a hand to silence him.

"If you are forced to chose, you are to protect your brother over me," he clarifies.

Kíli shakes his head. "Uncle, no…" he murmurs.

"You owe no oath to me; your primary task is to protect your brother so that he may one day sit on the throne of Erebor," he continues. "You are only to forfeit your life is there is no other option."

"I won't sit by if I can help you," Kíli protests, but calms when Thorin leans down to cup his cheek gently.

"I know you won't," he agrees. "But you must see to your brother first. Do you swear it?"

Kíli is quiet for a long while, and all of them wait with baited breath to see what he will say. It was an unexpected twist, to see Thorin make such a sacrificial move. It shows just how deeply he cares for his sister-sons, that he would risk returning to his own rightful seat on the throne to ensure that his line endures.

"What say you?" Thorin asks, sounding unsure of himself.

Kíli's eyes are on his brother when he finally answers. "I swear."

Fíli all but hauls his brother back to their bedroom once his oath is complete. There will be much more planning to come in the following days – new contracts will need to be signed and travel plans rearranged – but he needs to fix what he has broken now.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs as soon as the door slips shut behind them. He hadn't missed the hurt look his brother had shot him when he'd returned home. "I'm so sorry, Kee."

Kíli still looks positively wounded. "You lied to me," he whispers. "I trusted you, and you lied to me."

"I thought I was protecting you," he explains. "Honest, Kíli. I…I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn't see another way."

Kíli is quiet for a long while, arms wrapped around his torso as he watches his brother intensely. "Dwalin said you voted for me," he says softly.

Fíli nods. "I did. And if we would not have voted to bring you I was going to void my contract." At that, Kíli's gaze snaps up to his face in surprise. "I realized that…nothing good would come of us being apart. We protect each other. We always have. And I cannot do that if you are half a world away from me."

"Fee," Kíli mumbles, arms unfolding from around himself to fall limply at his side.

"I'm sorry," Fíli whispers again, closing the gap between them and cupping his brother face with both hands. He presses their foreheads together. "I'm so, so sorry, Kíli. I thought I was keeping you safe. I never meant to hurt you."

Kíli reaches a hand up to squeeze the back of Fíli's neck. "I know," he murmurs finally. "I know. It's okay."

Letting out a quiet sob of relief, Fíli gathers his little brother in arms and hugs him tightly, praying to the Maker that he will never have to live in a world where his brother is not.

Thanks for reading, friends! I will post a brief interlude with some Thorin/Dwalin aftermath, but it didn't feel right in his chapter.

I hope you enjoyed it! I am so, so sorry that it took so long.