After a long day of travel, Thorin finds his young nephews restless and unable to sleep. Despite his gruff exterior, he quietly hums an old dwarven lullaby, lulling them to sleep as he reminisces about their childhood.

The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcroppings. The Company had travelled long and hard that day, and most of them were already settled into sleep, wrapped in their cloaks against the cool night air. Thorin sat at the edge of the fire, his back against a large boulder, watching over the camp as he always did. His eyes scanned the horizon, ever alert for danger, but the only sounds were the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant call of night birds.

He sighed softly, running a hand through his tangled hair. The journey was wearing on him – on all of them – but there was no room for weakness. Erebor waited. Their kingdom, their home. He couldn't afford to falter, not when so much was at stake.

But tonight, something else weighed on his mind.

From the corner of his eye, Thorin noticed movement. His nephews, Fili and Kili, lay side by side near the fire, wrapped in their blankets, but neither of them seemed to be sleeping. Fili, the elder, was staring up at the sky, his expression thoughtful, while Kili fidgeted restlessly, turning from side to side as if trying to find a comfortable position.

Thorin frowned. They should be asleep by now. The day had been gruelling, and tomorrow would bring more of the same. Yet, despite their exhaustion, the two young dwarves remained wide awake.

With a quiet sigh, Thorin rose from his seat and walked over to them, his boots barely making a sound on the dirt. Fili noticed him first and looked up, his blue eyes calm but tired. Kili, ever the restless one, continued to fidget, pulling his blanket up over his head in frustration.

"Can't sleep?" Thorin asked, his voice low, so as not to disturb the others.

Fili shook his head slightly, "it's too quiet."

And it was true, it was almost as though the company was so exhausted that they lost the ability to snore.

Kili grumbled something unintelligible from under his blanket, but Thorin could sense the restlessness in his youngest nephew. It was the same feeling he had when they were children, and Kili had been too excited to sleep after hearing stories of grand adventures and dragon's gold.

Thorin crouched down beside them, his gaze softening. Despite all that had happened – the hardships, the battles, the responsibilities he carried as leader – there was still something precious in these moments, when it was just him and his nephews, like it had been in years long past. He had raised them alongside Dis, watched over them as they grew from curious children into the young warriors they were now. And despite their age, he still saw them as those same wide-eyed boys who had looked to him for guidance, for comfort.

For a moment, he was transported back to those nights in the Blue Mountains, when Fili and Kili had been no more than fauntlings, playing at sword fighting with wooden sticks. Dis would shake her head at their antics, while Thorin couldn't help but smile. And when the day was done, he'd sit with them by the hearth, humming an old dwarven tune to lull them to sleep.

His throat tightened with the memory.

"You used to hum to us," Fili said quietly, as if reading Thorin's mind, "when we couldn't sleep."

Thorin's lips quirked into a small, wry smile, "a long time ago."

Kili peeked out from under his blanket, his dark eyes glinting with mischief, "we're still waiting."

Thorin let out a quiet huff of laughter. Leave it to Kili to make demands, even when half-asleep. He shook his head but didn't protest. Instead, he sat down between them, his presence a solid, comforting weight. He looked out into the dark night, letting the memories of his childhood, of their childhood, wash over him.

And then, quietly, he began to hum.

It was a low, gentle melody, the kind of tune that had been passed down through generations of dwarves. A lullaby sung in Khuzdul, the language of their people, soft and ancient as the stone beneath their feet. Thorin's voice, deep and rough from years of battle and leadership, softened as he let the music take him. He hadn't sung it in years, not since Fili and Kili were small, but the words came easily to him, like they were etched into his very bones.

As the melody filled the air, Kili stopped fidgeting, his breathing slowing as the tension melted from his limbs. Fili, too, relaxed, his eyes drifting shut as the familiar tune wrapped around him like a blanket.

Thorin continued to hum, his voice low and steady, the rhythm as soothing as the sound of water flowing over stones. He let his gaze rest on his nephews – two warriors, strong and brave, but still so young. Too young, perhaps, for the burdens they carried. But they were here, beside him, and for now, that was enough.

The lullaby carried on, the words weaving through the quiet night, until finally, Kili's breathing deepened into sleep, his body still at last. Fili wasn't far behind, his face peaceful in the flickering firelight.

Thorin let the last note fade into the night, his heart full and heavy all at once. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this – missed the quiet moments, the simple act of caring for his family. So much had been lost, so many responsibilities had pulled him away from the simple joys of life. But here, in the stillness of the night, with his nephews beside him, Thorin felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a long time.

He sat with them for a while longer, watching over them as they slept, the fire crackling softly in the background. His mind drifted to the past, to the days when he had been the one cared for by his own father, Thrain, and grandfather, Thror. Their lullabies had been different, rougher perhaps, but filled with the same love. And now, it was his turn to carry on the tradition, to be the one who hummed away the worries of the world.

With a quiet sigh, Thorin finally stood, brushing a hand gently over Kili's unruly hair – hair that resisted every king of braid known, then Fili's. He returned to his place by the fire, settling back against the boulder, his eyes ever watchful.

The night stretched on, quiet and peaceful, and for the first time in a long while, Thorin allowed himself a moment to breathe.