It took the rest of the night and most of the following morning for Dori to convince himself that his conversation with Balin had actually happened as he remembered it, word-for-word, and that it wasn't some strange dream he'd fallen into after too many second helpings at dinner.

That moment where they had held hands and locked eyes seemed like an especially florid detail – the sort of wishful vision that a sleep-deprived mind might conjure up.

But no, Dori thought to himself as he carted another pile of rubble out of Erebor's throne room, it had to be true. Never in a thousand years of dreams could he possibly imagine that feeling of warmth and joy when Balin's hands had enveloped his. That moment had sent him careening into an old, forgotten corner of his heart – a realm of boyish yearning and ardor, back when his romantic desires had felt pure and new and impossibly deep.

All of these feelings he felt anew for Balin, and yet he had failed to express any of them when the moment presented itself. So instead of savoring this incredible memory, Dori chose instead to scrutinize it, picking apart his behavior moment by moment and imagining all the things he could have said or done. It all made for an uncharacteristically slow and unproductive morning of work – that, and the lack of sleep.

Dori directed his crew of Iron Hills soldiers as best he could through the fog. In truth, he was still uncomfortable serving as their foreman. But as a member of Thorin's Company, whose adventures already seemed to be a legend among the dwarves, Dori commanded an innate reverence from them without even having to try.

I am going to have to get used to people assuming that I am some sort of hero, Dori thought.

Thankfully, this project fell right into his wheelhouse: interior decorating. So after a week of clearing debris, scrubbing floors and walls, and scrounging for any decorative materials that had survived the sack of Erebor, the expansive chamber was beginning to look almost regal again.

After dumping his latest cart of assorted wreckage, Dori returned to stand at the throne room's entrance and evaluate their progress so far. He must have dozed off on his feet, for the next thing he knew a familiar voice was booming behind him.

"Admiring your handiwork, eh?"

It was Balin! Dori spun to look over his shoulder to see his friend marching up, looking quite dapper and handsome in his bright red robes, with his well-combed white beard cascading down to his belt buckle.

"And here I thought I was the busybody of the group!" The retort flew past Dori's lips without him thinking it through, and he tensed up almost as soon as he said it.

But to his joy, Balin laughed it off. "Now now, ease that rapier wit of yours. I would be a poor leader indeed if I did not check in on the progress of my dear friends and peons."

"Ah! And which am I, friend or peon?"

"I'll leave that to your delightfully active imagination." Balin cast a full-blown grin at Dori before shouting past him at the toiling soldiers beyond. "Ho, lads! How goes the work?"

A chorus of salutations and affirmative shouts greeted him in response. Despite the grueling nature of their work, morale among the soldiers was high – just standing inside the Lonely Mountain brought joy to them all.

Balin stuck an arm around Dori's shoulder and shook him a bit. "And how is this one treating you, eh? Not too cruel a taskmaster, is he?"

The soldiers laughed and all seemed to bellow "Noooo" as a unit – in truth, they were quite fond of Dori.

"Glad to hear it," Balin called. "Then I suppose you wouldn't mind if I borrowed your foreman for a moment?"

"Go on, take him off our hands!" called the group's sergeant. "He doesn't know how to take a break unless someone forces him to."

"Consider it settled, then!" Balin gave Dori a good yank on the shoulder and off they went, leaving the throne room to enter the cavernous banquet hall beyond.

As the sounds of the throne room crew fell away, the echoing silence of the Lonely Mountain became apparent. Each member of the Company was leading a small labor battalion as part of the early renovation efforts, but the 10 of them were spread throughout a sprawling realm that once housed thousands of dwarves. The banquet hall served as their staging area for now – tools and barrels and salvage piles cluttered the space. Centuries-old tapestries still hung overhead, charred and rotting.

Dori felt the enormity of the work ahead as he looked out over the sea of odds and ends that lay before them. Balin seemed to sense his dejection as they stood side by side.

"We're making excellent progress, even if it doesn't feel like it," Balin said, turning to face Dori.

"Hmm," Dori ran a hand over his beard, noting that several of his braids were coming loose from the hard day's work. "I'll have to take your word for it. I feel much like an ant attempting to push a boulder over a hill."

"You ought to take stock in my words, Dori – from this vantage point of mine I can see that the boulder is not so large and the hill is not so steep. And you have an army of ants at your back to help you."

Dori snorted. "I suppose that is reassuring. As reassuring as a vision of swarming ants can be, at any rate."

"Your metaphor, not mine," Balin smirked, wagging a stubby finger at Dori.

Dori couldn't help it – he blushed and looked down at the floor, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. He naturally tended toward pessimism, but Balin always seemed to parry away his gloom and lift his spirits.

"You know, Dori…" Balin began restlessly walking again, tracing a route along the perimeter of the banquet hall. "I was thinking over our conversation from last night…"

Dori startled and hurried to catch up with Balin. So itdidhappen! He hadn't just dreamed or imagined their fireside chat. "Oh, is that so?"

The old dwarf nodded. "Particularly when I told you that you have always placed others ahead of yourself. It was a compliment that I meant in all sincerity. Butwithinthat compliment, I realize I'd hidden a kernel of criticism."

Dori frowned, clasping his hands behind his back as he caught up with Balin's brisk pace to walk alongside him. "What do you mean?"

"Youalwaysput others before yourself, Dori." Balin looked at him with an appraising gaze. "After all those years of tending to the needs of your brothers and friends, I've rarely seen you develop your own plans or ambitions."

"Oh." Though he briefly tried to recall some contrary examples, Dori immediately felt the truth of that remark. "Well… that's the nature of life, I suppose. I've never felt I had the time for imagining my own greatness… nor was greatness ever thrust upon me. So I did the best I could and muddled through…"

"No, no, no," Balin shook his head and put a hand on Dori's shoulder. "None of this is meant to put you down, Dori. I only bring it up, in fact, because I see this as a perfect moment for you to envision yourself as something greater. Something worthy of your potential."

Dori again felt the reassuring weight of Balin's hand resting on his body, and that alone lightened his spirits. "Is that how you see it? Well, perhaps once we finally get this old mountain cleaned up and polished to its former glory, I'll have time to imagine what the rest of my life will look like…"

Balin chuckled, dropping his hand. "Come, come. You can muster up a bit more ambition than that. I am thinking in the present, my friend."

"Well, then, out with it! You clearly have some scheme in mind for me."

"A scheme, is it? Well then, theschemeis this: we need more than just manual labor to restore Erebor to its full splendor. We need leadership. And as members of King Thorin's Company, our people will naturally look to us to supply it."

"Aye, that's true enough…"

"Once King Dain is installed as ruler here, he and I will collaborate to assemble a new Council of Erebor. And to get to my point, Dori, I want you to join it."

Dori almost tripped over his own feet. "I… well, I am flattered, Balin! Truly I am. But I could not see a role for myself on such an esteemed council."

"Thatis exactly the type of thought that I am trying to snap you out of," Balin said, poking a finger into Dori's shoulder. It was a playful gesture, but there was quite clearly some genuine annoyance behind it, too. "Dori… do you know what I was studying last night?"

"Eh… you mentioned manifests and surveys, I believe…"

Balin nodded. "We are on the precipice of perhaps the greatest migration in the dwarvish people's history, Dori. King Dain, his retinue and royal guard will be the first to arrive come the spring. But fast on their heels will be the common folk of the Iron Hills. And followingthemwill be our kinsmen from the Blue Mountains. All of these dwarves will need places to live, food to eat, fresh water to drink and work to do."

"So all those surveys and manifests… you're working to answer those questions ahead of time."

"Aye. And while I'm making some slow headway… Dori, I believe you would be the best to lead those efforts as our council's Minister of the Interior."

"Minister of the…? Oh no, Balin, that's much too stuffy a title for me. I don't think…"

"Pah! I've barely presented the offer and here you are, already trying to talk yourself out of the position. You are a born organizer, Dori. You took two of the most unruly younger brothers imaginable and managed to mold them into respectable dwarves. You are ever meticulous, immaculately groomed, and always on schedule. And most importantly, you see the full mountain of any situation, not just the individual stones."

Dori started to open his mouth to refuse the position outright, but then stopped himself to ponder Balin's words – trying not to get too distracted by the compliment about his personal grooming. Perhaps… well, what if Balin was right? This was indeed a rare opportunity to take charge and lead the dwarvish people when they needed it most.

But what if Dori failed? What if the colony collapsed and all the blame fell to him?

"You are charitable to me as ever, Balin. But I would beg for time to consider your offer."

"Of course! I would refuse to accept an immediate 'no' or even a 'yes' from you, my friend. Mull it over, and come to a decision only when you have had ample time – and a bit more sleep, perhaps."

Dori gave a slight frown. "Is it that obvious…?"

Balin stopped suddenly, taking a gentle hold of Dori's wrist to slow him down. Then, as Dori came to a halt beside him, Balin let his fingers drift downward, interlacing them with Dori's. "I want you to be kinder to yourself, Dori. The months ahead will not be easy for any of us… and I know that I am going to rely on you for a great many things."

As surprise and affection washed over him, Dori once again felt like a rabbit frozen in the gaze of a wolf. But only for a moment this time. He gave Balin's fingers a squeeze.

"And I have always relied on you, Balin. You are…" He actually stopped to catch his breath, incredulous, in awe of this moment even as he lived it. "You are quite the special friend."

And suddenly, Dori saw that he had caught Balin off-guard for perhaps the first time since they had met. They had shared more than one hundred years of cordial conversations, dozens of shared drinks, and one long and perilous journey across the entirety of Middle Earth. But they had never seen each other the way they did in this moment.

They both lunged together at the same time, so swiftly that when they wrapped their arms around one another in a shared embrace, they almost went spilling to the floor. Somehow, they managed to prop each other up as they swayed to and fro. And suddenly they were laughing, shocked at the novelty and silliness of it all, clutching each other all the tighter.

Once they were steady, they pulled back a bit and stared at one another as if for the first time. Dori was suddenly reminded of the Balin he had known when they were both much younger – a Balin who seemed unachievably clever, charming… and handsome. Had Dori always felt this way about his friend and just never realized it…?

It didn't matter. They were in each other's arms now, the hairs of their beards intertwined, their foreheads drifting closer until they touched, everything suddenly coming into focus as they gazed upon another anew.

"Shall you or shall I…?" Balin said quietly, and Dori didn't need to ask what he meant.

But suddenly the thunderous, echoing sound of footfalls echoed through the banquet hall – it was the sound of someone descending the great staircase at the southern end of the chamber.

Dori reacted on pure instinct – he shot a glance at the stairway and, seeing that the new arrival wasn't yet in sight, darted in to kiss Balin's lips as quickly as he could. It was a glancing peck, far from the romantic gesture that Dori had anticipated mere moments ago. But it thrilled them both, nevertheless.

"Ishall," Dori whispered, quite proud of himself. "And I shall again."

And then, with Balin staring at him in wonder and affection, Dori took several broad steps backward, clasping his hands behind his back once again and puffing his chest out in the most officious looking posture he could manage. Balin caught on and mimicked Dori's stance just in time for the figure on the staircase to appear – it was Nori.

Dori's brother carried himself with his usual carefree swagger, the thick braids of his triple-forked beard bouncing jauntily as he descended the stairs with a thick roll of parchment tucked under one arm. He had a feathered quill tucked behind each ear, giving him the look of an unruly bird in search of feed.

"There he is, just the fellow I wanted to see," Nori bellowed, immediately honing in on Balin and marching straight for him.

Dori gave his loudest and most disapproving "tut-tut." "Is that any way to greet your elder brother? By ignoring him entirely? I haven't seen you in days, Nori."

Nori froze where he stood, his glance darting about the hall. "Did you feel that, Balin? I could have sworn I just felt a gust of hot air from somewhere close by – as if the dragon himself were returned from the dead!"

Balin furrowed his brow and leaned in toward Nori. "Do not jest about such things. You have something for me?"

"Eh…" Nori paused and adjusted his posture, the grin dropping from his face as he felt the full weight of Balin's disapproval. "My apologies, Balin. Just here to deliver you another report on the state of the upper floors. I've covered nearly every room – seems like there's plenty we could salvage up there. The Bastard Worm wasn't able to squeeze himself into the higher reaches of the mountain."

Balin took the parchment and looked it over, still maintaining a deep scowl to keep Nori on his toes. "Are you certain that you and Ori are brothers, Nori? Your penmanship is as brutish as his is refined."

A grin spread over Nori's face – to him, this was more of a compliment than an insult. "Well, you know how it is… I was far too busy getting things done as a lad to attend finishing school. Somehow I've managed to get by without learning how to write longhand or to serve tea like the Elves do." He gave a triumphant look at Dori, who merely rolled his eyes at his younger brother's theatrics.

"Hmm." Balin began to pace in a slow, deliberate circle around Nori. "You know, my father always taught me that ignorance was forgivable – you need onlyteachthe ignorant to cure them. Butproudignorance… ah! That is a terminal condition, I'm afraid. Unless, that is, those afflicted somehow learn to swallow their pride and educate themselves."

Nori visibly wilted under this pressure. "I… receive your message loud and clear, m'lord."

Balin nodded. "Very astute." He gave a curt bow to each of the brothers in turn. "Thank you both for your efforts to renew the realm. I will expect to hear your end-of-day reports at supper." And in one viper-like motion, he plucked both of the quills from behind Nori's ears before marching off through the banquet hall's eastern archway.

"You've really outdone yourself, Nori." Dori continued to stand there with his nobleman's posture, practically looking down his nose at his younger brother. "I've never seen Balin give that kind of dressing-down to anyone over the age of five."

"Aye, well…" Nori glanced to the eastern archway to make sure Balin was well and truly gone. "It's not as if I was in his good graces to begin with."

"He thinks more of you than you realize."

"Oh? And how do you know that?" Nori tugged at his beard in annoyance.

"Because I talk to Balin. And I listen."

"Ah, so that's the secret to getting ahead around here! Thank you as ever for your invaluable advice, older brother."

Dori shook his head. "Not advice at all. Just answering your question."

"Well, you're not the only one who listens around here," Nori said, clearly in an irritable mood. "I heard the two of you carrying on."

Dori felt a nervous pang, but looked away as if he were disinterested. "Oh? And what did you overhear in all your eavesdropping?"

"Just the two of you cackling like a couple of those ravens on the mountainside." Nori snorted. "ButI'mthe one who gets in trouble for making a wee jest?"

"I suppose you need to find some better jokes," Dori said with a shrug, turning to head back to the throne room. Secretly, he was relieved.

"Well then," Nori called after him. "What was the rib-tickler that set the two of you to laughing so fiercely?"

Dori kept right on walking, smiling to himself. "Just a private joke between two old friends."