A/N: Hey everyone! Firstly, I just want to thank the wonderful Mhyin for drawing another beautiful piece of fanart for this fic. Her illustration for Chapter Seventeen can be found at mhyin. tumblr. com under the 'Fanfiction Art' tab – please do go and check out her work! Right… so, this is it: the final chapter of 'Bring Them Home'! I'll save my end-of-an-era ramblings for the author's note at the end of this chapter, and for now I'll just start you off with three songs that make up Fíli's coronation playlist:

'Home' by Gabrielle Aplin

'Lanterns' by Birds of Tokyo

'Welcome Home' by Radical Face

Fíli ran a finger along the newly-polished stone, tracing a line of gold printed there by the sun that was tumbling through one of the many openings in the ceiling of the Throne Room. Erebor's enormous Throne Room was located high up in the Mountain, well above the Entrance Hall, and it was one of the only rooms which was illuminated by natural light. Windows, filled with both clear and coloured glass, had been carved out of the cavernous canopy of the Mountain, and so spring sunlight fell freely into the Throne Room, which had been fastidiously scrubbed, buffed, and furbished in preparation for tomorrow's coronation.

The sun was reaching its highest point in the sky and Fíli watched as lines of golden light flickered on the green-tinted stone walkways and towering pillars that surrounded him. This glittering combination of green and gold seemed a fitting representation of the spring that was fast progressing, and a reminder that they had now left the thaw far behind. The snow had given up its ghosts and slowly slipped away from the Mountain, trickling down the rock to join the water of the River Running, thus borne away to the south.

Closing his eyes, Fíli tilted his head up, savouring the warmth of the sun on his face which contrasted with the cool stone pressed against his back. He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there when he heard soft footsteps sounding in one of the passageways to the west of the Throne Room. Fíli opened his eyes just as Estel appeared in the shadows of the archway opposite him, and even the dim light couldn't hide his smile.

"Kíli told me I would find you here," Estel said, by way of greeting.

He moved into the light of the walkway, the sun reflected in his grey eyes, and came to join Fíli, who was sitting on the stone floor, leaning against the side of the throne.

"I am sure no one would object to you sitting on your throne," Estel commented, looking pointedly from the vacant throne to Fíli resting beside it.

"I'm not King yet," Fíli replied, smirking up at Estel.

Estel opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. He made to sit down on the floor next to Fíli, who hastily moved his walking cane to his other side to make space. Estel's eyes lingered on the cane as he settled himself against the throne, and Fíli understood why. The cane was hardly inconspicuous; it was made from a rich, dark wood, beautifully carved, and covered with a pattern which featured Fíli's sigil overlaid with Khuzdul inscriptions. The fact that it was studded with rubies and sapphires also made it a little hard to miss.

"A gift from Dàin," Fíli explained. "I think he meant it as some sort of peace offering."

"That is quite a peace offering," Estel grinned, and Fíli couldn't help but grin too. The cane was indeed far more spectacular than the one he had been using since his crutches were finally laid to rest.

"I hear your cousin has dismissed his entire council?" Estel said quietly, after a moment of easy silence.

"Aye, it seems Dàin has finally come to his senses," Fíli mused. "His new councillors are all soldiers from his army… He chose the ones with some political experience of course, but I think he values the fact that they know how war works… and how to respect their superiors." He gave Estel a sly sideways glance.

"And how are you faring with your new council?" Estel asked, turning to study Fíli intently.

"It's all a bit new to me," Fíli admitted, the smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. "But I'm sure I can whip them into shape."

Estel let out a low chuckle. Fíli had only chaired one council meeting so far, but the members of the company had taken to their new offices with great enthusiasm. Balin was doing a sterling job as head-councillor and Ori, who had the privilege of being the youngest member of the King's Council ever recorded, had greatly enjoyed writing up the minutes of the meeting in painstaking detail. Only Dwalin had refused a place on the council, but Fíli understood his reasoning; he was a warrior through and through, not a politician. And so, after Fíli's coronation, he would take up his appointment as Captain of the Kingsguard. Dís, although initially reluctant, had agreed to join her son's council in Dwalin's place. It was the first time since the beginning of the Second Age that a dwarrowdam had been appointed to the King's Council, but Fíli wouldn't take no for an answer.

Fíli and Estel sat in silence for a long time, both leaning their faces towards the sun, and Fíli's thoughts moved from the past, to the future, and back again. Images of his impending coronation flooded his mind, and then he retraced his steps on the path that had brought him to this point, pausing over so many moments that he could now quite literally see in a new light.

"Lady Arwen knew, didn't she?" Fíli whispered, his eyes moving to Estel. Estel furrowed his brow, and so he elaborated: "She knew about my coronation… about how this would end. She saw something. That's why she came to me, isn't it?"

Estel stared at Fíli for a few long moments, his mouth slightly agape in either shock or awe. It had taken Fíli a long time to piece together the information to draw this conclusion; but after his encounter with the stag in the forest, and something Estel had said in the clearing, everything had finally fallen into place.

"Yes," Estel answered slowly, and the warmth in his voice suggested he was genuinely impressed with Fíli's deduction. "Arwen glimpsed your future… But we were not sure if you were ready to hear it at the time, and so she was careful not to be too explicit."

Fíli nodded, satisfied. An element of curiosity remained, but he sensed there was no need to pry any further… It would all be revealed in time anyway. He leant back against the throne and suddenly a memory flashed before his eyes; the main vault, the blackness barely broken by sparse candles, sitting against Thorin's tomb with Estel… They had travelled far together, from a place of darkness, to this place of light, and Fíli was still a little in awe of Estel's wisdom and understanding.

"You know so much," Fíli murmured. "But you're still so… young." It was the first time he had ever felt the need to point out Estel's age; it had never seemed relevant the whole time they had known each other.

Estel considered Fíli quietly for a while, and then shifted back against the throne, a distant look in his eyes. "After Lord Elrond revealed my true identity to me, I left Rivendell for a time… I travelled far, across the whole of Middle Earth, trying to understand what it meant to be an heir… to be a king."

Estel paused for a moment, but Fíli knew he had much more to say, and so he remained silent, content to listen.

"I came to Rohan and spent some time in Edoras with King Fengel," Estel continued. "I did not learn much from Fengel about the makings of a good king… but in fact a lot about the makings of a bad one. He was consumed with greed and did little for his people, and he drove his son, Thengel, away. I went to join Thengel in Gondor, and I learnt more about what it takes to rule from him than I ever did from his father."

"And Thengel has made a good king?" Fíli asked, unable to deny his interest in this talk of princes and kings.

"He will," Estel smiled. "But for now Fengel still sits on the throne. One day soon, Thengel will have to return to Rohan and take up the crown that is rightfully his."

Fíli was beginning to draw comparisons, and Estel obviously saw the question written on Fíli's face as he spoke again, sounding a little more on edge than he had before: "I then became a guest of the Elvenking in Mirkwood… I realise that Thranduil has many faults, but he is still a fine king. He cares deeply for his people and will do all in his power to protect them… After a summer in the Woodland Realm, I finally returned to Rivendell, and found the Rangers of the North waiting for me."

Estel fell silent and Fíli could sense the tension blooming between them. He knew this was a subject Estel would rather not discuss; he remembered the first time they had met in Rivendell, when Estel had hastily brushed aside any question of his own throne… But still Fíli found that he couldn't simply let it lie.

"You know the workings of kingship better than anyone I have ever known," Fíli said, trying to keep his voice steady. "And you helped me when no one else could… But still you refuse your crown?"

"I am not needed in Gondor, I am needed in the North," Estel replied evenly.

"One day Gondor will need you."

They had reached an impasse, and Fíli felt a sickly twist in his stomach. He sensed he had pushed Estel too far and knew he had no right to ask such things of him. Not wanting to argue and afraid he had caused insult, Fíli looked to Estel with regret. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice full of self-reproach.

For one agonising moment, Estel didn't react at all, but then a smile broke out on his lips and he put a comforting hand on Fíli's shoulder. "You may be right," he said, his grey eyes shining. "But Gondor will not need me this day or the next, and that is all my concern for now."

Fíli lowered his head, acknowledging that this was the end of the matter. They returned to an easier silence, and Fíli's thoughts once again lingered over his future.

"How long will you stay in Erebor after the coronation?" he asked tentatively, though he already knew the answer.

"For as long as I am needed," came the reply.

It was as Fíli expected, but still his stomach sank a little. He knew that once he was crowned, Estel would feel his presence was no longer required; he had achieved all he had set out to do and all he had been sent for… But Fíli couldn't begin to describe how much he was going to miss him, and everyone who had ridden out from Rivendell in the winter snows.

Knowing there was only one thing left to say, Fíli turned to Estel, his blue eyes bright. "I'll never be able to thank you enough," he said, his voice swelling with emotion. "For coming here… For being so patient with me… And for looking after Kíli when I couldn't." He drew in a shivering breath, and then smiled. "Thank you, Estel… Thank you for everything."

Fíli started when he heard footsteps outside the door and tore his eyes away from the basin of now-cold water. He hadn't been staring at the basin for any reason in particular; only lost in his thoughts as he leant against the table. The door slowly creaked open and Kíli slipped into their room, greeting Fíli with a grin. He was dressed for the occasion, outfitted in a finely tailored blue tunic and long coat with just the hint of a fur trim. His sigil had been stitched in glittering thread, running in a continuous pattern along the hems of his robes, and even his new soft-leather boots, with all their glinting buckles, bore his initial. On his head sat an intricately crafted circlet of silver.

"Why, Prince Kíli, you do scrub up well!" Fíli said, smirking as he straightened up.

"If only I could say the same for you, your majesty," Kíli replied; he was close enough for Fíli to give him a playful shove and soon they were both chuckling.

"Mama has actually been fussing over me," Kíli complained; it seemed his return to the room was an act of escape. "Just you watch, she'll start cooing over us next!"

Fíli gave his brother a sympathetic smile, sharing in his pain. Dís had never been an overbearing mother and was not one to fuss, but the coronation seemed to have brought out some belated maternal instincts in her. She had woken her sons at an appalling hour that morning to make sure they were up and bathed before dawn. Their protests were met with the threat that if they weren't out of bed in five minutes she would bath them as if they were dwarflings again and scrub them to within an inch of their lives. That had made them move. But it also meant there had been many hours of the morning with nothing to do but wait, and it was driving Fíli to distraction.

"Are you all right?" Kíli asked carefully, studying Fíli with evident concern.

Fíli had guessed he wouldn't be able to hide his anxiety from Kíli; his brother knew him too well. "Nervous," he admitted. "I might fall flat on my face before I even reach the throne…" A glance at the elaborate cane gripped in his right hand indicated the source of his worry.

"You won't," Kíli reassured him, though the twist in his lips indicated the laugh he was trying desperately to suppress. "Even if you do, you'll get right back up again… and it'll be within your power to lop the head off anyone who so much as sniggers."

Fíli nodded, but an element of uncertainty combined with last-minute nerves continued to play on his mind. "Supposing I don't fall… I could still be a terrible king."

Kíli sighed and placed a gentle hand on Fíli's shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you?" he said quietly. "You will be a good king."

It was the third time Kíli had made this pronouncement. The first time had been in Rivendell, when they were sitting out on the balcony of the sickroom, and Fíli had silenced his brother, telling him he knew nothing. The second time they were in Fíli's tent, the day after Thorin's death, and from the blackest pits of grief, Fíli's fury had returned with a vengeance. But now he was finally ready to trust Kíli's judgement, and he wouldn't contradict him. If the past few months had shown him anything, it was that his little brother knew everything that was worth knowing… and Fíli would never question him again.

A smile indicated Fíli's acceptance and Kíli made to move away, but then Fíli grabbed his arm. "You never gave up on me," he whispered, his throat feeling tight as his fingers closed around Kíli's coat. "I shouted at you and pushed you away… But you never gave up."

"Of course I didn't," Kíli replied, his own voice sounding strained as he placed his hands on Fíli's shoulders. "I made you a promise, Fíli… I was going to do everything I could to make sure I didn't break it."

They bowed their heads together until their foreheads were touching, and Fíli felt his eyes begin to sting. "You saved my life," he said hoarsely, biting down on his lip as his vision blurred.

"Just as you've saved mine," Kíli replied. "Repeatedly, I might add."

The brothers shared a small laugh, but Fíli could hear the shudder in Kíli's voice just as surely as he heard it in his own. "Thank you," he gasped out, the words breaking in his mouth. It seemed such a simple thing to say, but Fíli meant it more than he had ever meant anything else in his life.

"Oh, don't be daft," Kíli grinned, though his brown eyes were cloudy with tears as he pulled Fíli into an embrace, resting his chin on his shoulder. "I'm your brother; it's all part of the service."

Fíli smiled weakly, wrapping an arm around Kíli's back, though careful to keep his balance with his cane still gripped in his right hand. "I'm so glad you're here with me," he murmured into Kíli's freshly-combed hair.

"Me too. And you know I always will be," Kíli said firmly. "Never left you, never will."

Fíli held Kíli closer and there was a long moment of silence before Kíli straightened up, looking his brother over with a critical eye. "Now come on, it's your coronation – you're not allowed to cry!" he said, with a teasing smirk.

Fíli nodded again, returning the smirk, and hastily wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand. He was about to reply when there came a gentle knock at their door.

"Come in!" Fíli called, feeling the knot of nerves in his chest tighten.

The door swung open to reveal Dís standing in the corridor, looking every bit the mother of the future king in her midnight blue robes with silver beads glinting in her dark, braided hair like stars. Her gaze swept over her two sons and suddenly she was beaming; the pride that lit up her blue eyes was unmistakable. To Fíli an age seemed to pass before she spoke, but finally she stepped into the room and whispered: "It's time."

Fíli forced his eyes to follow the lines of the elaborate pattern carved into the doors before him, trying to focus his mind in an attempt at easing the fluttering in his stomach. He was standing in front of the main entrance to the Throne Room, waiting for the heralding trumpets that would signal the opening of the doors and his arrival before his people. Kíli and Dís had left him a few minutes ago to take their places on the throne platform, and so he was alone in the corridor with only his manic heartbeat for company. He flexed the fingers of his right hand around the handle of his walking cane and the fingers of his left around the oak shield, just to ensure he still had feeling in them. At least with both hands occupied he was unable to distractedly tug on his robes as Kíli had been doing all morning. His brother felt that his sleeves were too short; but Fíli couldn't complain. His deep red tunic fit him perfectly and he was particularly fond of the matching coat with generous amounts of shimmering, brown fur trim. As Kíli's clothes had been adorned with stitched silver details, so too had his been seen to with plentiful amounts of gold thread and you could see his sigil from every angle.

Shifting slightly in his boots, Fíli felt one of his throwing knives pressing into his ankle and smiled. His mother had insisted that it wasn't necessary for him to be armed to the teeth at his coronation, but Fíli had persuaded her that the knives in his boots and behind his vambraces were an integral part of his attire. Besides, they made him feel more comfortable – more like himself. They weren't the only weapons he was carrying anyway; his twin falchions were no longer strapped to his back, but hanging on either side of his belt in ceremonial fashion in purposefully crafted gold sheaths. He was peering down at them, absent-mindedly wondering if they were going to be a pain, banging against his legs as he walked, when the first trumpet sounded.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Fíli immediately straightened up and sucked in the deepest breath he could manage. Before his mind had time to truly panic, the doors were suddenly thrown open and the chorus of heralds rose up to a crescendo. Fíli found his feet automatically carrying him forward and he stepped out onto the main walkway that led to the throne. There were soldiers lining either side of the walkway and they stamped their feet to attention as he approached, moving passed the heralds by the doors. As the last note of the trumpets died away, the singing began. Every voice was lifted up in celebration, and the Ancient Dwarvish coronation hymn to welcome the new king filled the Mountain. It was a song that had not been sung for centuries, but still its words had been passed down from generation to generation in the hopes that it would one day be sung again.

The jubilant chorus made Fíli's chest swell and all of a sudden his anxiety evaporated. The surging rhythm of the song helped him find his stride and he made his way down the soldier-lined stone path towards the throne without fear. The crowds were gathered mostly below the walkway and, glancing down at them, Fíli saw that they were staring up at him as they sang, their faces full of love and trust… and absolute faith in him as their chosen king. It made his breath catch in his throat and brought an unbelievable brightness to his blue eyes.

As he continued towards his destination, Fíli caught sight of the red-haired brothers, Regin and Regur, whom he had first met in the infirmary, standing in full armour with the other soldiers on the walkway. Regin had been subjected to the same intensive training routine set out by Óin and the other healers as Fíli, and now they were both back on their feet. The brothers grinned at Fíli as he passed, and though his eyes remained focused on a point straight ahead of him, he still smiled. He had also glimpsed Grefur the Grouch, not standing with any of his patients or fellow healers, but almost lost amongst crowds beneath the walkway, distinguished only by his bald head. Fíli noted that for once the head-healer wasn't actually frowning, but appeared joyfully indifferent as he mumbled along to the coronation anthem. A double-take confirmed that Kestri was standing in front of him with Neda at his side, their son, Thorin, miraculously undisturbed by the music, was sleeping in her arms.

Now that he was nearing the throne, Fíli could properly take in the full picture of everyone assembled there. The company, along with Dís, Dàin, and his wife, Thresi, were gathered on the right side of the platform, with Kíli and Dís standing closest to the throne. They were all dressed in their finest clothes, and Bilbo looked especially dapper in his custom-made waistcoat. Only Dwalin looked slightly uncomfortable in his new attire – which seemed to be a little tight across his shoulders – but the fact that his axes, Grasper and Keeper, were still strapped to his back appeared to ease his discomfort. The Rivendell party and Legolas stood, immaculately outfitted, to the left of the throne. Elves had never before been present at the coronation ceremony of a Dwarven king, let alone been allowed pride of place next to the throne, but Fíli wouldn't hear of anything else; it was a position well-deserved and he wanted them by his side on this most important day. Fíli's eyes met Estel's and identical smiles jumped to their lips. He was impressed that Estel's smile didn't falter when Lady Arwen took his hand and only a barely perceptible blush darkened his cheeks.

Gandalf was standing neither to the right nor the left of the throne, but on the steps directly before it. The wizard was the obvious choice to preside over the ceremony and so he was waiting for Fíli at the end of the walkway, preparing to welcome him onto the throne. But Gandalf didn't quite complete the tableau. His eyes moving from the wizard to Kíli and Dís behind him, Fíli could clearly imagine another figure standing with them. In his mind's eye, he saw Thorin standing between his sister and his youngest nephew, and he was smiling. Fíli saw his uncle how he always wanted to remember him; dressed for the occasion in his usual midnight blue, without a scratch on his face, his expression free from pain, and his dark blue eyes bright with the happiness and peace so rare in his life that he had now truly found. Whenever Fíli thought of Thorin, he would not think of the battlefield, he would think of this moment. His fingers unconsciously tightened around the oak shield as he returned his uncle's smile.

Finally reaching the end of the walkway, Fíli came to a stop before Gandalf, relieved he had a moment to catch his breath before the singing faded. As the last verse of the coronation hymn came to an end, Fíli thought he spotted a familiar flash of red hair. Turning, he found that Neri and Elís were watching from the balcony to his left, Elís balanced on her mother's hip, her large blue eyes round with excitement. With a jolt, Fíli also recognised Tobi, sitting on his father's shoulders with his mother at their side, and next to her stood… Elin was staring at him. Of course she was. Everyone was staring at him. Panicking, Fíli found that he was frozen on the spot and couldn't look away. But then Elin smiled a rather wry smile and slowly lifted her hand in greeting. Fíli understood that she was returning the favour and found it in himself to grin… and then Gandalf coughed.

His eyes darting back to the wizard, Fíli felt his face grow hot and the song-less silence was deafening. Focusing on the matter at hand, he gave himself a mental kick, and then carefully lowered himself onto one knee before Gandalf. He had been practicing this part of the ceremony for days to ensure he could kneel and return to his feet smoothly with some sense of grace. Once his good knee was settled on the cool stone, he peered up at the wizard.

"Fíli, son of Dís, heir of Durin," Gandalf began, his voice looming large and echoing around the Throne Room. "Are you willing to take the sacred oath of your people and thus be crowned King Under the Mountain?"

Fíli inhaled deeply and answered with a voice that resounded around the ancient stone of the Mountain: "I am willing."

A soft smile appeared on Gandalf's lips. "Then come, Fíli, and be seated," he said, his voice quieter, and he held an arm open towards the throne.

Fíli slowly rose to his feet and approached the throne. Hearing his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he turned and settled himself into the stone seat of his forefathers. Now facing the crowds, he found every single pair of eyes was watching him intently, but despite the unnerving nature of such focus, he felt nothing but warmth and affection for them. Balancing the oak shield in his lap and keeping his cane planted on the floor before him, Fíli's eyes returned to Gandalf.

"Fíli, son of Dís." Gandalf's voice was once again loud enough for all to hear as he began the oath. "In the name of Durin, will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the united kingdoms of Ered Luin and Erebor according to their laws and customs?"

"I solemnly swear to do so," came Fíli's reply, his voice raised to match Gandalf's.

Gandalf continued: "And will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to be executed in all your judgements?"

"I will," Fíli answered, without hesitation.

"And will you to your power protect your people and undertake all actions selflessly, serving them as they serve you?"

"I will."

Gandalf's light blue eyes shone as he sealed the oath with a blessing delivered in impeccable Khuzdul. He then turned to Balin, who was holding open an ornate wooden chest. Inside it, nestled in dark velvet, lay the crown. Balin had always been the keeper of the crown. He had recovered it in the bloody aftermath of the Battle of Azanulbizar which had claimed the life of Thrór, the last King Under the Mountain to be crowned. Carrying it with him all the way to Ered Luin, and then again when retracing his steps back to the Lonely Mountain, Balin always had faith that one day it would again be placed upon the head of an heir of Durin. Fíli looked to Balin as Gandalf lifted the crown from the chest, and Balin winked at him, the look in his eyes saying all there was left to say.

Gandalf positioned himself before Fíli, holding the crown above his head in both hands, and Fíli's breath caught in his throat. He managed to sneak a glance at Kíli and his mother, standing to his right. Dís' blue eyes were shining with silent tears and Kíli was grinning from ear to ear. His eyes once again moving to Gandalf, Fíli drew in another deep breath and smiled. He was ready.

Gandalf carefully placed the crown upon Fíli's head and cleared his throat. His voice then rang out, so loud it seemed to make the Mountain itself shudder: "In the sight of Aulë and all the children of Durin, I now proclaim you Fíli Oakenshield, Lord of Erebor, and King Under the Mountain."

A/N: Well, I'll have you know I'm sobbing like a baby right now. Tears that are probably long overdue considering the amount of emotional trauma I've put you all through, I know! So, here ends 'Bring Them Home'. It has been one hell of a journey, folks, and I cannot thank you all enough for coming along for the ride. Whether you joined me at the beginning or part way through this story, it just means the absolute world to me that you're here at the end. To every single person who has ever read, reviewed, followed, or favourited this fic – THANK YOU! Seriously, your support has been invaluable and I owe you what little sanity I have. When I first started writing 'Bring Them Home' I was just about to enter my final term at university and I thought I was making one huge mistake, but I now realise it was one of the best decisions I ever made. You guys have made me ridiculously happy and got me through one of the most difficult periods in my life, so thank you all for everything.

Now, I will be posting my AU timeline as an appendix for this fic in the next couple of days. This will mostly deal with Fíli and Kíli's romantic relationships and their children, as well as new takes on events surrounding the War of the Ring. But I'm afraid I have to stress that I won't be writing a sequel, and this may be my last chapter of fanfiction for a while. I begin my teacher training in September and will be on a full-time placement until June, so unfortunately I will be hanging up my pen for the duration. That being said, if any of you have any questions regarding my 'Bring Them Home' headcanons and what happens after Fíli's coronation, please do drop me a PM and I will happily ramble away about this AU.

Right, I think that's everything. All I can say is thank you again for making this a truly brilliant summer!