"Fíli, why are you on the floor?"

"Because I am not leaving Kíli on his own."

As luck would have it, Kíli had developed a terrible headache not long after dinner. It had soothed, or so he'd said, but Fíli was stubborn that he would not be leaving his younger brother's side, even now, when he was asleep. He looked up at Bilbo as though daring him to mock the situation. Instead, Bilbo only asked,

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable enough?"

Fíli thought for a while. "Another blanket might be nice."

"What's it like being an older brother?" Bilbo asked, sticking his head inside a cupboard and rooting around.

"It's terrifying. I wouldn't recommend it."

Bilbo chuckled. "I bet you wouldn't change it for anything."

"Not all the time, no," Fíli agreed, smiling as he accepted the blanket.

Bilbo flashed a smile. "Goodnight, lad."

"Night."

Rain lashed down. Gleams of silver flashed before Fíli's stinging eyes as he desperately ran though the fight, trying to find Kíli. It was important that he find his brother, get him to safety. A smudge of red hair, strangely familiar, caught his eye and for some reason, he ran to it, just in time to see his brother stagger to his feet, his sword clenched tightly in his fist.

"Kíli!"

Kíli's deep brown eyes suddenly widened and he ran over to him, sword raised. Fíli turned swiftly, trying to see what enemy was behind him only to get knocked to one side, powerless to do anything but watch as his younger brother was hurled away, the sharp blade of an ax embedded in his side.

"No! Kíli!"

He was screaming, but didn't care. Running over, he collapsed to his knees, holding one of Kíli's hands in his. Kíli tried to speak, but all that came out were sad gurgles before blood started dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly a sharp pain hit his back and he started screaming, screaming louder than before...

"Fíli! Fíli..."

"Fee, wake up!"

With a gasp like a downing person coming up for air, Fíli did, blinking in the surprising darkness.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Kíli asked.

"...Yes. You were... you-" Fíli panted, unable to continue. Kíli eased himself off the sofa and sat by his brother, an arm 'round his shoulder.

"It's alright. I'm alive and well. So are you. Nothing will kill us."

"It was so real, Kíli. A great battle. So many enemies. I couldn't find you and then you went and saved my life and... you died."

"Tell you what," Kíli said, "if we ever do get into a battle, I won't save your life."

Fíli snorted. "Thanks. That would help."

Kíli squeezed his arms around Fíli affectionately. "I can't promise anything, though."

Bilbo was surprised to see Thorin the next day. He was at the table with an ancient map that he pored over with great interest.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes," Thorin answered. "We have a home to win back."

"From what?"

"A Dragon."

"A Dragon?" Bilbo repeated.

"Aye. Tell me, what do you know of the lands in the East?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"Mm. Sit, I'll tell you."

Bilbo did, cautious green eyes showing a hint of curiosity.

"There is a Mountain, far to the East. It is a single Mountain, one we call the Lonely Mountain. Hundreds of years back, it homed many Dwarves. Inside the Mountain was a kingdom, one my grandfather ruled. It was called Erebor." Thorin paused. "My grandfather ruled his kingdom well. He was a fair and noble leader, loved by his people and his kin.
Erebor was a kingdom of miners. Everyday, we would have Dwarves coming up to tell us of new discoveries, such as gems and veins of gold. We were all wealthy, so that even the poorest of us had money to spend and lend. They were good days."

Pretty, gleaming gold came into his mind. He ignored it, despite the beauty it promised and looked at Bilbo who was gazing at him with wide eyes.

"Those days were not to last. My grandfather was becoming ill. Not an illness of the body, but of the mind. He loved his riches, of which he had plenty. His illness was something we call Gold Sickness, or," Thorin pulled a face, "Dragon Sickness, because the love for the metals and gems is much like that a Dragon has for his own treasure hoarde.
I was young when the Dragon came. I'd just come back from an expedition and was walking among the balcony when suddenly there was a great wind. Something wasn't right, I knew, and a glance toward the sky proved me right. A Dragon had come. He destroyed the city of Dale that lay below Erebor and soon stole our kingdom, despite the Bowmaster, Girion's attempts to kill him.
After that, we were homeless. Allies turned against us. It took a long time, but we finally were able to settle in the Blue Mountains."

"You're going back to Erebor?"

"We are, yes. We just need someone to help us get something of great importance."

"What's that?"

"Before the Dragon, a stone was found. A large, white jewel, glowing all different colours. My grandfather claimed it as the King's Jewel, believing it to be sent from Mahal himself, to prove his right to rule was approved by our Father."

"So, you need a burglar?"

"Ideally a hobbit." He was pushing his luck and he knew it, but kept going. "Quiet, small. Not a Dwarf."

"You may want to check up in Tuckborough." Bilbo said pointedly. "They like adventures and that sort of thing."

"Your mother travelled in her youth, didn't she?"

"How would you know?"

"Her lion statue didn't come from here, Master Baggins."

"Alright, she did like to travel, but never anything this dangerous. Besides, she... she's passed on. She can't help you."

"But you can."