Inspired by prompt from MAPMonstersArePerceptions:
The kingdom has been recovered; now Thorin et al must work together to make sure the time of suffering and want for the dwarves is a thing of the past (or where Thorin and friends discover homeless dwarves, maybe dwarflings, who didn't know that they could come to the royal family for help.
The kingdom of Erebor has been reclaimed.
The stone gates and pillars shining bright under the sun, looking polished for the outside world to see. But behind the gilded façade lay the weariness of rebuilding, an effort shared by Thorin Oakenshield and every member of the company who had survived the arduous journey to take back their homeland.
The kingdom was finally theirs, but not without scars and labour stretching on for months.
While Dain had left many dwarves behind to assist in the rebuilding of Erebor – and the many dwarves who have since travelled to Erebor – there was still much left to do.
The day was one of careful repair, with Thorin overseeing the strengthening of pillars in the throne room when Balin approached, his face shadowed by an unusual unease. One not seen since the battle had been won.
"Thorin," Balin murmured, leaning close, "you should see this."
Thorin straightened, nodding for him to lead the way. They traversed deeper into the lower halls, halls Thorin hadn't yet visited since their return. The farther down they went, the more shadowed and silent the stone passages became. The light and grandeur of the upper kingdom faded into walls lined with cracks and rubble.
Thorin frowned, "we've yet to repair these parts."
"Aye, but that's not what concerns me," Balin replied.
Turning a corner, Thorin stopped, eyes widening at the sight before him. In the roughened chambers ahead, dwarves – families – gathered in small groups. Cloaked figures shuffled, adults with weary faces keeping children close, who clung to them with wide, uncertain eyes. Their garments were worn, and some faces bore signs of long travel. These dwarves were strangers, clearly of Erebor but unfamiliar to Thorin.
"These dwarves… why are they here? Why aren't they taking residence in the hall or camps with the others?" Thorin asked, perplexed.
Either option was no proper home – but they were enough to sustain dwarves who have reached Erebor until the works have been completed for living quarters and apartments.
Balin looked down, sorrow in his eyes, "they must have heard that Erebor was reclaimed and came seeking a new life. But they have not come to you, Thorin, for they think they have no right."
Thorin clenched his jaw. He had fought to bring Erebor back, not just for himself but for every dwarf who wished for a home, for a place where they could live in dignity – while it was many years ago, the years of wandering the lands in search of a new home were still strong in the forefront of his memory. The sight of his people in such hardship struck deep, and a resolute determination grew within him.
That evening, Thorin gathered his company in a large, unfurnished hall, laying out his plans.
"We will not allow these dwarves to suffer in silence. We must reach out, and make sure they know they have a place here."
Bofur nodded immediately, ever the empathetic one, "what do we need to do, then? Some of these folks look like they haven't had a proper meal in days."
"Indeed," said Fili, his gaze distant, "we could start with supplies. Set up temporary lodgings suitable for those with children. And someone should talk to them about what they need most – perhaps we could send Oin down as well to assess their welfare."
Balin folded his arms. "And once we see to their needs, we'll bring them to the central halls. They deserve to know they're as much a part of Erebor as any of us."
Over the next few days, Thorin and the company divided the tasks between them. Bofur, with his cheerful disposition, handled much of the outreach, talking to each family, coaxing their stories from them with gentle warmth with the cheerfulness only he could provide.
Some had fled from the ruins of neighbouring towns, others from remote regions of the mountains where resources had grown scarce. Kili and Fili visited the kitchens, gathering food and delivering hot meals to those who had gone without, prepared by Bombur.
Dwalin, while he usually preferred tasks that involved strength and steel, found himself setting up temporary shelters, helping to clear rubble and hang rough curtains for privacy. His gruff manner was softened by the way he quietly offered his own thick cloak to a shivering dwarfling.
"There you are, lassie. This'll keep you warm," he muttered, not quite meeting the girl's gaze.
Meanwhile, Thorin found himself face-to-face with an elderly dwarf woman, her eyes filled with both suspicion and longing. She was thinner than she should have been, her hair a crown of white beneath her tattered shawl.
"Your majesty," she said, voice trembling, "we didn't expect to be welcomed by the king himself."
Thorin knelt, bowing his head in respect. "Erebor belongs to every dwarf who would call it home," he said quietly, "come. We will not leave you here in the cold. There is a place for you."
The old dwarf's gaze softened, and she nodded, taking his offered hand.
Under Thorin's guidance, the company ensured that every dwarf in need found warmth, food, and some semblance of a home within Erebor's sheltering halls. They worked tirelessly, not as nobles or warriors, but as dwarves united in their common heritage, carrying stone, mending cracks, sharing meals in the rudimentary dining area they'd set up in the lower halls.
In the evening, Fili and Kili, with Ori's help, began organising games for the children. The young ones, still wary, slowly joined in, their laughter rising in joyous echoes through the once-sombre halls. Bilbo even joined them, his hobbit heart charmed by the children, offering treats he'd been saving as rewards for games he made up on the spot.
And it wasn't hard – the children were quite fascinated by the hobbit and his distinctive large feet – and the fact that hobbits appeared to grow beards on their feet instead of their face.
The kindness and care of Thorin's company soon transformed the atmosphere. The dwarves who had arrived as strangers grew comfortable – hidden away fearing that they would be unwelcomed in Erebor, they begun offering what skills they could to aid the kingdom's restoration.
One evening, Thorin gathered them all in the great hall, its walls still a work in progress, though it gleamed with the light of newly lit torches. With elven guards having delivered a large supply of meats, wine and fresh produce under the order of Thranduil as a sign of good will, he was able to hold the first of what he hoped to be many grand feasts in the mountain.
"Erebor is more than stone and gold," he announced, his voice carrying through the hall, "it is family, it is unity, and it is our refuge from the storms of the world. No dwarf who seeks this home will be turned away – for all are welcome. Together, we will bring Erebor back to its full glory."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, a renewed hope kindling in the eyes of the weary travellers. Thorin's heart swelled as he gazed over them, feeling for the first time that Erebor's throne was not just his by blood, but by the bond he shared with every dwarf gathered before him.
In the following weeks, Erebor thrived with fresh energy.
Skilled crafters among the new settlers taught their trades to Thorin's company, eager to contribute. Stoneworkers, carpenters, and artisans poured their labour into making Erebor more than a grand kingdom, but a true haven. A popular pastime of dwarflings was watching the young princes, Fili and Kili train, eyes wide with admiration, while their parents worked to restore the kingdom.
Otherwise, you would find the children out in the sun on the grass fields, with Ori and Bilbo telling stories of dwarven and hobbit tradition.
One afternoon, Balin approached Thorin as he watched over the bustling lower halls, the once-empty chambers now filled with laughter, voices, and the hum of life.
"Look at them, Thorin," Balin said, smiling softly, "this is the Erebor we fought for."
Thorin turned to his friend, a rare, full smile on his face, "aye, Balin. And may they live in peace here, for as long as Erebor stands. I won't have it any other way."
The king and his advisor stood together, watching the reborn kingdom before them. The weight of the past battles and the long journey that had brought them there now seemed lighter, replaced with the simple joy of seeing their people safe and finally, after so long, truly home.