Disclaimer: The Hobbit, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J. R. R. Tolkien's estate, and Warner Brothers, New Line Cinema, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, and WingNut Films.

Author's Note: Minifill for a prompt on the hobbit-kink meme.

So the Last Shall Be First, and the First Last

There were countless raised eyebrows, double-takes, and baffled expressions. The genuine surprised reactions of the Ur dwarves caused tongues to be held. So the first night of feasting celebrating the completion of the restoration of Erebor was long and joyous.

By the third feast, wonderment and confusion started to grow tenfold when it was noted yet again the Lords Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur were seated at the head table with Thorin Oakenshield. They were on the king's right, placed midway down the table between Dwalin and Balin. Seated above Dain Ironfoot (whom was near the end of the table) of the House of Durin and the king's close kin! The quiet whispers now flew about rapidly.

The fifth banquet found merriment twisting with concern and resentment, pointed looks unsubtle, open frowns, murmurings traded in clear voices.

"They are merely lords, bestowed with the titles rather than born into them," an old lord remarked after approaching the head table and bowing grandly to the king. "Not a drop of royal blood in their veins. Why does the king delight having them closer to him than his own kinsman, Dain?" he asked, glancing sidelong in disapproval at the three dwarves in question.

The swiftness in which Thorin rose from his chair and set his goblet down with a bang caused a hush to fall over the gathering. The look the king fixed on the dwarf before him was dangerously calm, his blue eyes bright and fiery. Placing his palms on the table, he leaned forward slightly.

"Take care how you address members of my company, Nain," Thorin warned in a low tone. "The Ur dwarves have earned their place by my side ten times over."

"I-I-I did not mean to imply—" the lord stuttered, wide-eyed, taking half a step back.

Straightening to his full height, Thorin's voice carried clearly throughout the hall. "When I first intended to retake Erebor, I sought out companions for help, to take part in the quest. I applied to my people – those close to me by blood, those who wielded power and forces at their command. But I was turned down by those I thought, hoped would rally around me; only after the dragon was defeated did they offer aid.

"In the end I had only a company of thirteen when I set out, of distant kin and dear friends. However, there were three dwarves – miners, toymakers – whom had no ties to me. And yet, they pledged to follow me in a quest to reclaim our home, knowing and accepting the dangers that faced us, the possibility of failure, not living to see our journey's end."

Thorin looked down the table to the Ur dwarves. They gazed back at him with wide, amazed eyes, color mounting in their cheeks.

"Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur proved their loyalty and bravery and usefulness time and time again, remaining faithful even in the darkest, most hopeless moments." A small smile curved Thorin's lips, gratitude shining his eyes. "That is why I call them friends, kin. That is why I would have them by my side."

In one majestic movement the dwarven king lifted his goblet high into the air. Instantly all present lifted their own goblets.

"To the Lords Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur!" proclaimed Thorin.

"To the Lords Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur!" the cry rang loudly in the hall.

THE END