Absolutely no spoilers for BOFA here, don't worry! But all those who have seen it (I will watch it for the third time next week!), I think we all could do with some Durin fluff, right?

This story takes place long before AUJ, Fíli is 20 and Kíli is 15, which should be around 10 and 7, respectively, in human age. The idea for this story came to me yesterday when I was at the stables and remembered a pony I rode when I was about 13, a really mischievous, stubborn pony named Monty... ;)

So here you find some family fluff full of Durin feels, enjoy! Reviews are, as always, very much appreciated!

Only broken bones

The door creaked a little in its hinges, but Thorin paid it no heed. He welcomed the warmth of the small house as he left the cold winter air behind. Even the short walk from Balin's had made the braids in his hair freeze slightly. Ered Luin was covered with a thick layer of snow, experiencing one of the harshest winters in decades, something the elder dwarves looked upon with worry. Dwarves were, of course, hardy folk and endured much that life threw at them without complaint, but even dwarves could only go so long without proper meals. Thorin sighed as he remembered his talk with Balin and old Gróin. No deer had been seen in the forest for a few days now, and even rabbits and birds were scarcely found. It wasn't life-threatening yet, as the three dwarves had concluded, not while there was still food in the storage rooms, but Mahal knew they could all do with a bit of warmer weather.

The only ones who didn't complain – mainly because they had never known hunger in their short lives – were the children. The dwarflings enjoyed their snowball fights and shoving snow down each other's coats.

Thinking of the children immediately made Thorin think of his nephews. Having been left in charge while Dis was away with some of the other dwarrowdams, he had been reluctant to leave the boys alone while meeting Balin and Gróin. The silence he was met with as he entered the house confirmed his suspicions. A quiet house was never a good sign when it came to Fíli and Kíli, his sistersons.

Against all better judgment, he hung up his wet cloak and called for them.

"Boys, I'm back! Anything happened while I was gone?"

He groaned quietly when nobody answered. Part of him was getting angry, for surely the little rascals had been their usual mischievous selves in his absence, and what had he been thinking leaving them alone? But at the same time he could feel a pit in his stomach which he knew boded ill. Dis would have his hide if anything had happened, and Durin knew there was no greater wrath than that of a mother who found out her dear brother had failed his duty as babysitter!

The kitchen was deserted, although he noticed a few very suspicious holes in the apple pie that Dis had left to cool on the table with strict orders to not touch it until she'd return. This wouldn't be before sunset, as Thorin was well aware. Just make sure that the boys hadn't accidentally poisoned themselves, he decided.

Dis' apple pie really was the best.

Thorin grinned to himself as he retreated from the kitchen, guiltily noticing the muddy stains his boots had left on the floor.

"Kíli? Fíli? Come here, now!"

In that moment he heard the familiar creaking of the door, along with different voices. What made him forget the mud stains immediately, though, was the sound of crying.

Kíli. He would recognise him anywhere.

He was at the door in a flash, stopping dead in his tracks when he perceived his nephews and one visibly troubled Bofur who now took off his hat and scratched his forehead.

Kíli was sobbing quietly, while Fíli was silent, something that scared Thorin more than he'd like to admit. If Kíli was hurt, his big brother was always the one to soothe him. His pale face and his silence told the older dwarf everything he needed to know. Well, almost.

"Fíli, lad, what happened?" he asked, kneeling before his golden-haired heir.

"My arm hurts," Fíli whispered, biting his lip, and avoided his uncle's concerned gaze.

It was only when Thorin carefully rolled up Fíli's sleeve that he got a closer look at the left arm that Fíli cradled in his right hand, and he choked when he noticed the clear signs of a fracture. Mahal knew the pain the boy had to be in!

"Come inside," he said firmly, then looked at the toymaker. "Go and fetch Óin, will you?"

"Sure, Thorin, I'll be right back."

With one last worried glance at the two dwarflings Bofur turned on his heels and was gone.

Thorin steered the boys into the bedroom they shared. Kíli was still sobbing to himself, and Fíli looked like he was about to get sick. Frowning, the dark-haired dwarf guided them to Fíli's bed, where they sat down next to each other, and squatted before them. Gently he laid a hand onto Kíli's knee.

"Don't cry, Kíli. Whatever happened, I won't be mad. Really, I won't."

He sighed when Kíli's sobbing turned into ragged breaths, his small shoulders shaking visibly as he peered at his brother from under dark eyelashes.

"Now, Fíli, tell me what happened, please," Thorin addressed the elder one.

The blonde didn't answer immediately. His body was rigid, his face still sickly pale, and when Thorin carefully took his chin into his hand and lifted it so that Fíli would look at him, he noticed the unshed tears in the blue eyes. He was on the verge of tears, he realised, and he understood that the only thing keeping Fíli from crying out in pain was probably him knowing that it would be the final blow for little Kíli.

Finally Fíli looked at him, and Thorin give him the best encouraging smile he could muster.

"I'm s-s-sorry, u-uncle," Fíli stammered, and his cheeks turned brightly red. "I was stupid. I fell."

"Fell – how?"

At this point Kíli started to cry again, causing Thorin to want to tear his hair in despair. Oh, Dis would certainly have his hide.

"It's alright, Kee," mumbled Fíli, wincing almost inaudibly as he moved closer to his brother and laid his right arm around his shoulders without sparing his broken left arm so much as a glance.

Thorin thought he had never been prouder of his nephew.

"I thought… I thought…," Kíli hiccupped and wiped his eyes furiously. It was in vain, for more tears were coming.

"What did you think, Kee?"

"That you would die," Kíli burst out and buried his small face in his hands.

Fíli's eyes widened just like Thorin's, and he stared at his little brother aghast.

"It's just a broken bone, nadadith, nobody dies of a broken bone!"

"But you fell –"

"How?" Thorin demanded, putting all adult seriousness into his voice while inside he felt cold upon hearing Kíli say something so horrible.

"Off Monty," murmured Fíli, avoiding Thorin's stern gaze.

The older dwarf threw his hands up in frustration. Monty. Of course. Not only had Fíli decided to go ride a pony when he'd only just started his training, but he'd had to choose Monty of all ponies.

"I was just gone for one hour! By Mahal, what were you thinking, Fíli?" he hissed, forgetting for a moment his promise to not be mad. "You're far from able to handle him, he's wild, stubborn and over all, a tad bit crazy."

"Is that why he's yours?" Kíli piped up innocently, and Thorin could plainly hear Fíli's sad attempt at stifling a chuckle.

He ruffled Kíli's mop of unruly hair.

"Swords of a forge, aye. Now tell me, laddie, why did you think Fíli would die?"

"Because I didn't, and I won't," Fíli added hastily, pulling the younger one a little closer.

"Dari did," Kíli mumbled, and when he looked at Thorin there was such fear in his dark eyes that Thorin felt like an iron fist clenched his heart. Dari had indeed died not long ago, after an accident that had involved a group of hungry dwarves eager to get home fast, a frozen puddle beneath the snow, and a falling pony. One of its hooves had hit Dari's head, and the joyous dwarf had never woken again.

"Oh Kee," Fíli grinned. "You're an idiot. I just broke my arm, that's all."

"Don't be unfair now, Fíli," Thorin scolded. "He worries, and that's pretty much alright. It's what brothers do, as you of all dwarves should know."

Fíli looked genuinely ashamed, and he wasn't the only one seemingly relieved when they heard the door creak for the third time that day.

"Óin, back here, come on in!" Thorin called loudly, for everyone knew that the healer was getting deaf as he got older. He rose to greet Óin, only just noticing Fíli pressing a kiss onto his brother's scalp from the corner of his eyes. He smiled to himself, and he was still smiling when the healer entered the room.

"Thorin! Long time no see, eh? Now what's wrong me lad?" he asked, turning towards Fíli. "Broken yer arm, Bofe told me?"

Fíli nodded, biting his lip when Óin examined his arm carefully under Kíli's watch.

"He fell off a pony," Thorin added, furrowing his brows in worry as the healer rummaged in his bag. "What do you say, Óin?"

"Oh, he's a strong lad, he'll be fine in no time. But I'll have to set the bone before I splint it."

Fíli paled visibly. Thorin squeezed his right shoulder and exchanged a look with Óin. The healer nodded and produced a flask from his bag.

"Fetch me a spoon, laddie, will you?" he spoke to Kíli, and the young dwarf hurried to the kitchen as if the healer had just sent him on a quest to find a rare sort of antidote to a life-threatening poison. They could hear clattering from the kitchen, and Thorin turned his attention to his older nephew who eyed the flask sceptically.

"Fíli, I won't argue with you. You'll take that medicine, it'll take the pain away."

"I don't need –"

"You do. No false pretences, Fíli. You don't have to be strong all the time. Least of all for Kíli."

The youth eyed him with a curious expression, and Thorin sighed.

"And certainly not for me."

"But you're always strong, uncle," Fíli whispered. "I just want to be more like you."

Before Thorin could say anything, Kíli was back in the room, five spoons of different sizes in his small hands. It was probably good timing, as Thorin was, for once, lost for words. A rare occurrence, he himself had to admit.

"That's the right one," said Óin as he picked a medium sized spoon and patted Kíli's back. "Well done, lad. Now, Fíli, one spoonful of this" – he poured a clear liquid out of the flask – "and you'll be as numb as my old Pa after a night at the tavern."

Thorin rolled his eyes, but Fíli chuckled. He shuddered when he swallowed the undoubtedly bitter medicine, then stared at Óin expectantly.

"So, how long till I get all drivelling and start babbling nonsense?"

"Fíli!" Thorin cried in dismay. Some days he forgot that his heir was indeed just a twenty year old dwarfling, but thank Mahal the youth never forgot to remind him in time.

Óin didn't seem to have heard it, though, and soon Fíli's eyelids indeed dropped close despite his sluggish attempts to keep his eyes open. The healer prodded his arm twice, and nodded to himself when his patient didn't even flinch.

"Alright, let's get this over with," Óin commanded, indicating for Thorin to grab Fíli's shoulders and keep him still. Kíli was sitting with his elbows propped up on his knees, his chin resting on his knuckles as his gaze never left his brother. For a moment Thorin pondered sending him away, but then again it would most probably not be the last time the young one would have to watch the treatment of injuries such as these. In fact, he thought, he would be lucky if this would remain the worst he'd see in his life.

Óin worked quickly, and thankfully the fracture was easy to reset. Fíli didn't flinch. He even cast his brother a weak smile, which Thorin acknowledged by brushing his blonde locks lightly.

"There, that should do for now," said Óin as he wrapped Fíli's arm in a bandage and put it in a sling. "Keep it still for a while, understand? No snowball fights outside!"

His stern gaze addressed Kíli as much as Fíli, and both brothers nodded in unison. Fíli was already gaining a bit of colour. As always, the healer had found just the right dose of medicine, and Thorin shook his friend's hand and patted his back.

"Thank you very much, Óin. Is there anything else I can do?"

"Just make sure the bairns stay inside for a while," Óin said gruffly as he packed his bag. "Lock 'em up if necessary."

Thorin chuckled when Kíli's eyes widened in dismay, and Óin winked at him.

"Kíli can help his Ma with the housework then, can't you, lad?"

The young dwarf groaned involuntarily, and Thorin had a distinct notion that Kíli helping would end with a kind of chaos that would send his dear sister back to Erebor. A kingdom in ruins, guarded by a dragon, couldn't compare to the havoc her youngest could easily wreak upon the house when he couldn't vent his energy.

Thorin led the healer to the door and followed him with his eyes. It wasn't his first visit to the Durin household, and it wouldn't be the last, either. The black-haired dwarf shielded his eyes against the fierce wind as he scanned the road. It wasn't long until sunset, and he was getting worried about Dis. It was useless, he knew, but he had always been a bit overprotective when it came to his little sister, especially after her husband's untimely death.

"She'll be fine," he muttered to himself and squared his shoulders. She had to be.

He returned to the boys' room only to find Fíli sitting propped up against the back of his bed, with Kíli curled up against his brother, obviously asleep. Fíli was murmuring something Thorin couldn't understand, and he remained in the doorway for a moment just watching them. His lips broadened to a smile. The brothers could often be found like this. Even though Kíli was the more energetic one of the two, he was also the one with the uncanny ability to turn from hyperactive to sleepy within the blink of an eye. For him, there was no such thing as drifting into sleep. One moment he was awake, and then next he was asleep.

Fíli, on the other hand, always needed a while until sleep would eventually find him. Thorin had often thought that it was because he needed to be sure than Kíli was fast asleep before he allowed himself to relax.

As if he could read his thoughts, Fíli looked up and his blue eyes met Thorin's. The young dwarf looked much better now, especially since the blanket hid most of his white bandage. Thorin sat down before his nephew. Kíli fidgeted a little as the mattress moved, and Fíli stroked his raven hair gently.

"How do you feel, Fíli?"

The youth shrugged with his good shoulder.

"I'm alright. Just a broken bone, right?"

"You were very brave today, my boy," Thorin said earnestly, putting a hand up on Fíli's knee. "I'm proud of you."

Fíli blushed visibly but he didn't reply. It was then that Thorin remembered the words he'd spoken earlier, and he frowned.

"Fíli… I mean it."

The younger one avoided his gaze, though, letting his golden hair cover his face as he looked into his lap rather than Thorin's eyes. His uncle sighed quietly.

"You don't always have to prove your strength, Fíli. You don't."

"But you're always strong," came the muffled response as Fíli pressed his forehead to his drawn-up knees.

Thorin rubbed his face with one hand. He could feel his short beard underneath his calloused palms, the stubble a constant reminder of the tragedies of the past.

"Oh, Fíli. I am not. Nobody can be strong all the time."

"You are. And Mister Dwalin."

"Fíli, look at me."

It took a while during which Thorin simply sat and watched his oldest nephew. He couldn't see his face, but he knew that in that moment a million thoughts were whirling inside his head. He knew that feeling all too well.

Finally Fíli lifted his head. His eyes were shining suspiciously, and Thorin moved closer so that he could lay both hands onto his shoulders. They were already getting broader, he realised with a jolt.

"You say you want to be like me, but in reality you are already so much more than me. You come after your father, Fíli, and that's the biggest compliment if I ever gave one. You are the most kind-hearted dwarf I know, and I know that you will always put your family first. When your Da died, you took care of this family, and if it wasn't for you, I don't know how your mother would have coped with the loss. How I would have coped."

He choked as he remembered the day he'd had to carry the body of Lîan back to the city. One arrow had sealed his fate after he'd taken out three of the orcs that had waylaid them on the hunt. Still to that day Thorin couldn't help but think that the arrow had been meant for him, and not for this loving and caring father of two.

He had never spoken to anyone about that.

Fíli watched him intently. His cheeks had taken on a slightly red hue, and he seemed to think about what Thorin had said.

"You are courageous and you defend those who can't speak for themselves, like when one of the older children made fun of Ori because he and his brothers don't have the same father."

"How –"

"Oh, I hear of many things that happen here," Thorin said with a smile. "You would be surprised."

Fíli didn't seem to like that idea too much, judging from the frown on his young face. He was probably in that moment rethinking every mischief he and Kíli had done in the past and which they'd thought to have gone unnoticed by their uncle and, more importantly, their mother.

"But… but…" Fíli seemed to try to find the right words, and Thorin squeezed his shoulder encouragingly.

"What is it, Fíli?"

"Why haven't I started my weapons training yet?" the young dwarf suddenly burst out. "You said I'm too young, but I know you started when you were twenty, Ma told me!"

It took Thorin by surprise, but it explained a lot. Fíli's desperate wish to prove himself over and over again, even if it meant to secretly ride his uncle's stubborn pony. He closed his eyes for a second, sighing in exasperation. Of course Fíli was right. Thorin had started his training on his twentieth birthday, and during the years that followed he had become a formidable warrior.

But it had meant nothing when the dragon came.

It hadn't been enough to save his grandfather.

And all his training would never bring his father back.

"Uncle?"

He blinked quickly, trying in vain to erase the memories of his past. There was a reason why he had withheld swords and battle axes from his nephew.

"I just wanted you to be a child, Fíli. Just a little bit longer, you know?"

He watched as a multitude of emotions flickered across Fíli's face. It was still the face of a child, but already there were a few light stubbles on his chin and cheeks.

"If you wish, you may start your training with Dwalin once your arm is healed," Thorin muttered quietly, knowing in his heart that he had no right to deny his nephew that wish. "But neither your mother nor I would think any lesser of you if you chose to wait a bit longer. It's your decision."

He already knew what that decision would be, though.

Fíli nodded solemnly. He glanced at Kíli's still form and creased his brows.

"I want to learn how to wield a sword, uncle. I don't want to kill anyone," he added, for one moment looking like the child he really was. It was plain to see that the sheer thought of killing frightened him, and if anything that only made Thorin prouder of him than before. "But when it's necessary, I want to be able to defend those that I love."

He bit his lower lip, and his gaze sought Thorin's. The older one nodded slowly. There was something strangely familiar about his words, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Instinctively he pulled Fíli closer and brought his forehead to his nephew's.

"And you will. But you won't have to do it on your own."

They remained like that for a while, uncle and nephew, and only the sound of Kíli's soft snoring could be heard. They parted when they heard the door. Fíli's face lit up with delight when he recognised the typical sound of Dis' steps, only to then falter as his mother's voice could be heard through the hallway.

"What in Durin's name happened here? Oh, you boys, I told you to – and what happened to that pie?"

She burst into the bedroom with a furious expression on her face. Just in that moment Kíli decided to wake up, and he greeted his mother with a wide smile.

"Hello, Ma!"

At least Thorin had the decency to look ashamed at the mentioning of Dis' apple pie. It didn't matter though, for when Dis spotted the sling on her eldest son's arm she cried out and almost pushed her brother off the bed.

"Fíli, darling, what happened to you?"

"Don't worry Ma, it's just a broken arm, 'tis all."

"'Tis all'? How in the name of the seven fathers did that happen?"

In a moment of mutual understanding, the three dwarves in front of her avoided her gaze. Nobody spoke, and Dis rolled her eyes.

"To think I only left you in charge for half a day, brother," she said light-heartedly, "I dare not think of what will happen once you start taking them out for trips in the wild."

The boys' faces lit up at the idea of joining their uncle, but Dis had never been good at hiding her emotions from Thorin. For her, it was a frightening thought to let her children go.

"Boys, why don't you set the table? I hear there's some pie waiting for us," Thorin addressed the children, and grinned when both were out of bed at lightning bolt's speed.

He turned to Dis and put his hands onto her forearms.

"I am truly sorry," he said, feeling only relatively relieved when a soft smile played at his sister's lips. "I should have looked after them better than I did."

"It's alright, brother," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to where laughter came from the kitchen. "They're boys. You can't always protect them."

With that she intended to rise to her feet, but Thorin held her by the wrist. She stopped and gazed curiously at him. There was a lot he wanted to say to her, but all he could do was stare at her dark eyes. Frerin's eyes. Kíli's eyes.

"I will always try," he whispered hoarsely, and there was an unspoken promise in that broken sentence that he knew she would understand.

"I know."

He took a deep breath and finally let his sister go. He followed her into the kitchen. The sight before them made them stop dead in their tracks, then burst into laughter. Kíli was holding a fork in his right hand, a plate serving as a makeshift shield while he parried Fíli's attacks. One knife in his right hand, the blonde leapt from the stool and, with a loud "Du bekâr!" ripping from his throat, launched at his brother.

It was a typical afternoon in the Durin household. Only Thorin himself knew that his laughter didn't reach his eyes this time.

"I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

A/N: The quote is one of my favourites, and I can't help but think that it would fit Fíli just as perfectly as Faramir.