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Kili swept his eyes over the dark hall as he crouched by the corner. There seemed to be no guards on duty for once, most likely due to the delegation from Dale that came to visit. That also explained the absence of Thorin, as usually this was the hour that the king would disappear from the chambers filled with his subjects and travel to the heart of the mountain.

Kili still remembered the way to the rooms he has only been able to visit once before, all the twists and turns it took his uncle to lead Fili and him to the heavy granite door, and what it guarded. And since that day, many moons ago, Kili has been unable to think of much other. Again and again his thoughts turned to the small figure in the middle of the lavish bed, resting on silks and furs, with a splattering of jewels and gems upon its brow, glittering dimly in the sparse candle light. Only after that one visit his uncle refused to let him see the hobbit, refused to answer questions about him, or even mention him at all. It looked as though the King Under the Mountain was determined to make sure that no one else saw the burglar again.

Sneaking as silently as he could the dark haired youth finally arrived at his destination: the stone archway with an unusual keyhole. Kili remembered Thorin using his ring to open it, and had prepared by making sure he had a copy of the ring, widdled out of wood, just for the occasion. It came through and as soon as all the parts of the ring connected to the hole, a handle slid out from the side, allowing the dwarf to pull the door open.

As he stepped into the room Kili's eyes hungrily fell onto the only figure in it, stopping for a moment to admire the sight. His uncle really has made sure to surround their burglar with only the finest riches available, and the finished work looked exquisite. Bilbo truly looked as though he was ready to be paid homage to by kings of elves and men, and dwarf alike. Gingerly Kili walked further into the door, forgetting about the door, and the wooden ring inside the keyhole, as he fell upon his knees next to the bed and placed his hands upon the body lying there. Fingers tracing the shape and contour, palms pressing here and there, the dwarf tried to implant the details into his memory clear as he could. He rose higher and placed his hands on the face he so desired would once more alight with smile and a kind word. And then he lowered his face to finally taste that which he had desired for so very long.

And then he flew, dragged off by the collar of his cloak, as his ears were assaulted by an enraged and loud shout. Kili hit the wall of gold and pearls that occupied the northern side of the room, and as he slid down covered by the collapsing treasure his pained eyes fell on the drawn up figure of Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain who stood towering over him with breaths coming to and from him in a huff and a gaze filled coldness and fire all at once.

"How dare you…You betray me, and break into my sanctuary; you dare disturb him at his rest; you try to defile him! My own nephew!" Growled Thorin as he advanced at the fallen dwarf, full of anger and a sense of jealousy like he had never felt before. His own blood dared to attempt possessing what was rightfully his, what he had locked away to keep safe.

"Uncle, no, I was just…" stammered Kili as he tried to get up only to be held down by Thorin's foot that the dwarf placed on his nephews chest and pressed down hard, making his ribs creak, and his breath catch.

"You will never see this room and the one occupying it again nephew. You will tell no one and you better forget that you were ever here, if you want to live, do you understand me?" asked Thorin in a quiet voice.

Kili could only try to keep his wits about him in, as he felt more and more air leave, without returning.

"Yes, my king."

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