NOTE: For those of you who have read this story before, I have gone through and done a complete overhaul of it. One change is that for those of you who read this before, Frodo has been edited out. If you are reading for the first time, I had taken a kind of alternate universe route and put Frodo in as Asphodel's brother. This second time around, I decided to get rid of him. I had to completely overhaul the story in order to edit him out and I was pretty thorough, but if you see any mention of him, please let me know immediately so I can edit it. Thanks! I'm putting this notice in "Plight of the Dwarves" and "Choices" as well.

It did not take long for the people of Lake-town to become aware of the company of Dwarves that had taken up residence in the abandoned farmland to the north of their town just prior to the start of winter. Some had even seen Thorin Oakenshield working hard on the forge in the small workshop near the market. Or perhaps they had caught glimpses of the hardened warrior, Dwalin as he patrolled the streets looking for troublemakers.

Some townsfolk even ventured out of their town in hopes of catching a glimpse of the Dwarves living in the farm houses. The dwarves had become a source of great speculation, curiosity, and rumor. No one in living memory had ever seen a Dwarf, though everyone in Lake-town knew the tales of King Thror, the king under the mountain. And everyone knew about the sleeping dragon that now dwells under the mountain which was visible at all times from their town.

That the king of carven stone had returned and was now living as a commoner perplexed the townspeople. Many walked past his workshop, trying to catch a glimpse of him. Some wondered what he was waiting for. He didn't appear to be as kingly at the moment as he hammered away on the forge, churning out beautiful iron masterpieces. If he was truly the king, why was he wasting his time trying to earn a coin? He should have slain the dragon by now and brought Lake-town the prosperity its people had been longing for all these many years.

Some people looked towards Erebor with hope. Others looked to it with fear. There were those who wished Thorin Oakenshield would go waltzing into that mountain and take care of Smaug once and for all. They were impatient. They were tired of the hardships that had befallen them in this town.

There were those who feared what might happen to their town if Smaug awakened. They all knew what had happened to Dale, they were all the descendants of the survivors of that town, after all. Every single one of them had an ancestor who had been around when Smaug had destroyed the city on the slopes of the mountain.

Then there were some people who simply wanted to be left alone. All they wanted was peace. They slaved away for little profit while the master lived in luxury, but they didn't want to be the ones to complain. They accepted their lot with little resistance, just trying to get by one day at a time.

But the hardships were getting harder to ignore. All the shop owners of Lake-town dreaded the conclusion of the day's work for every evening, as the shops closed and the wearied craftsmen and workers prepared to go home, Alfrid, the master's assistant, would go door to door collecting all their earnings for the day saying it was taxes for their labor. They were allowed to keep a few copper coins if they were lucky. Then, Alfrid would collect all the works the craftsmen had completed that day, saying it was to be shipped off where it would be sold to more prosperous towns while the master kept the profits of trade. They were allowed to keep a small percentage of their works to sell in the town market for fixed prices which were heavily regulated. It had been this way for as long as anyone could remember.

And so the wearied people of Lake-town longed for a change. Some looked to it with hope, others with fear. And they all expected the change to come from the king of the prophecies. They didn't understand what he was doing. He was working amongst them, living amongst them, as if he were one of them. He was subjected to the same tax and good collections as they were. Rumors spread that perhaps this was a false king. He didn't have the power to kill Smaug and he didn't belong here. He was subjected to jeers and insults everywhere he went in this town. They didn't trust him; they didn't want him in their town.

But Thorin himself knew the truth. He took their insults because he pitied their lot. He knew they were all scared, wearied, and angry. He knew they wanted him to act. But he also knew that he couldn't. The secret door had been lost. None of the townsfolk were aware of that. They didn't know about the key and the map with riddles about Durin's day. Durin's day had passed and with it, any hopes of getting into Erebor. But he couldn't tell them that. So he accepted their jeers stoic and silently.

After all, Thorin thought as he walked home after a long day of work, he wasn't the only one he had to care for. Out in these farm houses, he had suddenly found himself the leader of a small community of 13 Dwarves, two Hobbits, and one Gnome. They needed him to lead them and to care for their needs.

Thorin bought a small loaf of bread at the local bakers that cold winters evening. It was a small loaf, not enough to feed three, but it was all he could afford on meager wages. He was exhausted from the day's work and looking forward to being home in his stone cabin.

As the king started out for his cabin home, his breath turned to fog in the winter air. All around him, the world was blanketed in ice and snow. He walked through the snow, sometimes taking short cuts across the frozen water of the lake. He had a short commute home; the lights in the windows of the farm houses were already visible as he made his approach. But his walk home was riddled with emotional pain because beyond the tiny farm houses, not more than a few dozen miles beyond, lay the Lonely Mountain.

Erebor. Thorin was taunted with the magnificent view of his ancient kingdom as it filled the entire horizon and its snow capped peak was bathed in the soft orange light of the setting sun. They had only been living here a few weeks and every time Thorin stepped out onto the ice, he felt as if daggers were being driven into his chest.

But as he crossed the short distance to the first stone building, he was quickly reminded of the choice he made which led to this predicament. As he opened the wooden door, a blast of warm air and soft yellow light confronted him.

"Good evening, Uncle," said Kili as he sat in his wooden chair, his feet propped up on the kitchen table. Thorin studied his youngest nephew for a moment as the youth puffed on his pipe.

"Didn't Oin tell you not to be smoking until your lung had fully healed?" Thorin demanded grumpily. The lad seemed to be his usual cheerful self, but Thorin knew better. He could still see the hint of pain etched in those dark brown eyes.

"Come now Uncle, it can't do too much harm," said Fili as the blonde dwarf came over and relieved Thorin of the loaf of bread in his hands, "Besides, we've been holed up in this cabin for weeks, we're going stir crazy in here."

Thorin turned to his eldest nephew as he took off his furs, "and what about you, Fili?" he asked. Fili rolled his eyes as Kili crossed the room to take his uncle's coat for him.

"Fine," Fili said simply, "I'm fine. And so is Kili. We're both fine. How could we not be with everyone stopping in here every five minutes just to see if we were still alive!"

Thorin thought of a retort, but decided against it. His nephews were the youngest of the company and as such had made much effort to prove to the rest of the company that they did not need to be coddled. But after the grievous injuries that they had both suffered when they had arrived here, Thorin couldn't help but be a bit protective.

He shuddered as he recalled that terrible night when he didn't think either of them would live. The night Thorin was forced to make a choice: Erebor or his nephews. And he had seriously thought of choosing the former and for that, he berated himself. He longed for Erebor. He had thought about it every day since the day he and his people had been driven from it 171 years ago. He wanted desperately to be inside his mountain kingdom full of gold… but how empty Erebor would have been without Fili and Kili. He had raised them, after all. He had cared for them as if they were his own sons after their parents had died. They were the only things that had made his exile in the Blue Mountains bearable.

And for awhile it seemed that he would lose both. As Thorin thought about that event, he pulled off his wet boots and sat down on the small bench, eager to get off his feet.

"It's a small piece," Fili was saying, bringing Thorin out of his thoughts. He glanced up as Fili pulled out a knife and started to it into three pieces.

"Keep it for yourselves," Thorin said and Fili hesitated, glancing at him with concern.

"You need to eat too," Kili reminded him. The king shook his head. He was very hungry; he hadn't eaten since last night. But he'd have to make do.

"I ate in town," he lied. His nephews glanced at one another with concern before glancing back at him. Neither looked convinced.

"Please," he said wearily, "Just take the bread, I'll be alright."

"I don't feel much like eating anyway," Fili said stubbornly, "My stomach is bothering me a bit."

"I think I'll hold off on supper, too," Kili agreed, coughing a bit as he moved away from the bread to stand beside his brother.

"It was all I could afford," Thorin reminded them, feeling a bit irritated and more than a little touched as he looked at their stoic, hard-set faces, "You are both still recovering from your injuries and you need to build up your strength."

"We aren't Dwarflings, we can care for ourselves," Fili said, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Either we cut it into three or the rats can have it," Kili added.

Thorin could see now that he wasn't going to win this. His nephews were as stubborn as he and the small piece of bread would rot with mold before they backed down. Especially since it was clear that they were fueling each other's stubbornness with support.

"Very well," he said with a slight grin, "Let my attempt to care for my own kin go for naught."

"Get used to it, Uncle," Kili said as Fili resumed cutting the bread into three small pieces, "We'll all be taking care of each other on this quest. After all, we all have to keep our strength up if we want to have any hope of defeating the dragon."

Thorin felt saddened by his nephew's youthful optimism. He only wished it could be that simple. He accepted the piece of bread Fili handed him and moved over so his nephews could share his bench.

They sat in silence for a moment, Thorin wedged in between Fili and Kili. The old Dwarf king relaxed in their presence. He was very glad to be with them in that moment considering how close he came to losing them. He remembered running back to where the company had been fighting the Orcs and he shuddered inwardly as he recalled the terrible sight that had presented itself.

It was a big arrow. Thorin didn't know Orcs had arrows that long or that large. They must have been standing right next to each other. It had gone clear through Fili's body to be lodged into Kili's chest, pinning the two young dwarves together. The arrow had punctured Fili's stomach and had entered Kili's lung. At that moment, everyone thought the brothers were going to die. Thorin had thought fate most cruel at that point. The light of Durin's day had passed, robbing him of his mountain kingdom, and now he was going to be robbed of the only things that had made exile possible for him to endure.

But they had lived. Their recovery had been long, but they had pulled through. Through luck, Oin's healing skill, and the strength of their own, the boys had made it and they were here with him now. He had lost his mountain and had to endure the torture of seeing it before him every day as he returned home. It was so close yet so far from his reach. But if he was doomed to more years as an exile, at least he still had Fili and Kili. Was it so wrong to be a bit overprotective of them?

"Has Oin been over to check you two over?" he said in spite of himself. He was rewarded for his words by two sharp glares.

"Well?" he demanded an answer.

"Yes," Fili said, "And he said we are well on the mend."

"In fact the entire company has been in here at one point," Kili added, "Master Baggins and his kin just left."

Thorin thought of the hobbit who had joined them at the start of their journey. He had wished that his company had consisted only of Dwarves. He had doubted the sturdiness of Hobbits and when Gandalf had insisted they take Bilbo Baggins along as the company burglar, Thorin had certainly been against it. But the little Halfling had proven to be quite resilient. And it was out of sheer chance that they had run into more hobbits while in orc captivity, along with two gnomes.

The hobbits turned out to be Bilbo's kin and when the two adults were killed in the escape, Bilbo had suddenly found himself the sole parent to young Asphodel, his niece. Then, the young gnome Brenna had suffered a loss when her mother died soon after they reached the farms, leaving her orphaned as well. Bilbo had generously taken her in as well.

"Uncle?" Fili's voice brought Thorin out of his thoughts. He glanced at his nephew and saw questions burning in his blue eyes, "How long are we going to have to live here?"

Thorin sighed. He had thought about that a lot. He'd talked to Balin about it. He didn't have any easy answers. Yes living in the shadow of the mountain was painful. But would going back to the Blue Mountains be even better? He'd have to face his people, tell them he had failed.

And even with the emotional reasons aside, there were other more physical obstacles that seemed to be stranding them here. They had spent all their currency getting here and Thorin could barely earn enough to feed them, much less save for a journey back to the Blue Mountains. And with winter upon them, the trip back would not be good for Fili and Kili who were still recovering from their injuries.

"Let's not dwell on things to come for now," He finally told his nephews after a long pause, "Let's just work on surviving through the present."

"Well in that case, how long before we can leave this miserable house and start contributing?" Kili asked, "You don't expect us to rot here forever do you?"

"When Oin says it's alright," Thorin said firmly.

"Well looks like we're in luck," Fili said, "He said we are healing nicely. Good as new."

Thorin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He locked eyes with Fili until the blonde dwarf finally sighed in defeat,

"My stomach has been bothering me," he admitted, "I still feel a bit queasy, but I've managed to keep my meals down and the pain isn't so bad anymore. And Oin did say a little fresh air would be good for us."

"It's true," Kili continued, "My lung still hurts quite a bit and I keep getting short winded. But it wouldn't hurt me to go out and gather some firewood once in awhile. And I'd like to start some training again if Dwalin is up for it."

Thorin sighed. He could tell his nephews were being truthful and it would be nice to have them back in full. Though he knew their stubbornness when it came to their own abilities; they could probably both get their legs amputated and they'd still insist on doing some sword training.

"It might be hard to train seeing as how our weapons were taken by Elves," Thorin said, but at their hopeful eyes, he softened a bit, "But… I suppose we could use some extra hands getting these old farmhouses in working order. Master Bard tells me no one has lived in them in nearly a century. It seems they could use some attention by a fine Dwarven craftsman."

Thorin was rewarded by two enthusiastic grins. But his mood was dampened a bit when Kili coughed and winced a bit.

"I will have your word that you'll be careful," He warned, raising an eyebrow at Kili. He was satisfied when he got nods of agreement from both of them.

And with that matter taken care of, Thorin could relax for the evening. He was exhausted from a day of working on the forge and it seemed their troubles were endless. But for this one moment in time, and just this one moment, Thorin Oakenshield was quite content.