The first time it happened, Kíli could barely walk and Fíli hadn't even started his lessons yet. Thorin and his nephews had been walking through the village they were staying when they met the wife of one of the village's shepherds with one of the dogs.

Fíli ran towards the dog and Kíli toddled after him. Thorin only just caught them by the back of their clothes before they came too close to the dog.
"Be careful! You can never know if an animal is friendly or not. Better you stay away, or you might be bitten."

The human woman laughed. "Oh, don't worry, Dagnir is quite friendly."

"Then why is he trying to use his tail as a mace? One strike with that and my nephews will be down on the ground, an easy meal for him."

"That's just what dogs do when they feel happy and friendly. Sit, Dagnir!" To Thorin's surprise, the dog did as told.
"See, now they can pet it without any problems."

Thorin let go of his nephews reluctantly and they walked over to the dog to stroke its head the way the woman showed them. Thorin scowled at how close their little hands were to the beast's sharp teeth. His hand rested firmly on his axe.

When Fíli and Kíli finally let the dog be led away towards the herd of sheep outside the village, they excitedly talked about the dog all the way home.

"Did you see how it licked my hand, Uncle Thorin? Its tongue was all wet and pink!"

"You are washing your hands when we get home. You can never know what diseases that thing is trying to spread."

Fíli pouted but quickly began talking again. "And it had huge yellow-brown eyes!"

Like a wolf, Thorin thought, or a warg. He tried not to shudder.

"Its hair was much softer than it looked! Why didn't you pet it, Uncle Thorin?"

"Sof' dog!" Kíli agreed.

"An animal's hair is called fur, Fíli. I was making sure nobody would come and hurt you. You know we have to be careful in the villages of Men."

Fíli nodded earnestly. "But that will change when Adad and Grandda Thráin take back Erebor and tell us to follow, right?"

"It will." Thorin did not tell his nephews about the doubts growing in his mind with every day there was no word from them. He worried about what might have befallen Thráin, Víli, Balin, Dwalin and the others on the quest. The thought of Fíli and Kíli growing up fatherless was horrible and Thorin didn't even want to think about becoming king without Dwalin by his side.

"Can we have a dog, Uncle Thorin? Please?" Fíli asked.

"Pease, Unca Do'n!" Kíli added eagerly, his eyes wide and pleading.

"Maybe when you are a bit older and can take care of it yourselves," Thorin said. "Now, who will race me back to the house? First one there gets the biggest piece of that cake your Amad is baking!"

Thorin hoisted Kíli onto his shoulders as Fíli began running and then raced after him. To his relief, that erased all thoughts of a dog from his nephews' minds.

…

Or so he thought.

Some years later, after they had settled in the Ered Luin, Kíli ran into the chambers Thorin shared with Dwalin. Fíli followed shortly behind, his steps more measured in an attempt to be dignified but just as out of breath as his brother. Dwalin caught Kíli and dangled him from his legs.

"Look what I caught, Thorin! I think we're having dwarfling for supper!"

Kíli giggled and squirmed. "I`m not supper, Mr. Dwalin! Let me go!"

"But what will we eat then? Do you want us to go hungry?" Dwalin asked but set Kíli down.

"I can smell that Amad is already cooking dinner. I hope something without vegetables," Kíli shuddered briefly. "And we want to ask Uncle Thorin something important."

That earned him a knock over his head from his brother.

"Kíli! I told you we'd ask after supper, when Uncle Thorin is smoking his pipe and relaxing!"

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "You might as well ask now."

Fíli scowled in a way that had made Dwalin mouth the words "I told you that you set a bad example" at Thorin several times in the past.

"Can we have a puppy? Tharglir's mother said we had to ask first, but you'll say yes, won't you?"

"Slow down, Kíli. One thing at a time and the whole story, please."

Fíli clamped a hand over Kíli's mouth and answered instead.
"Tharglir, our friend down in the Men's village, has a dog that had puppies. Tharglir says we can have one when they are old enough, but his mother said we have to ask you first. Can we please have one, Uncle Thorin?"

Kíli had struggled free from his brother's hold. "There's one that has completely white fur, the others all have the usual grey fur. Tharglir said we could even have the white one if we wanted!"

"A puppy is a lot of responsibility and takes time," Thorin said.

"We will take good care of it!" Fíli said eagerly. "We'll feed it, brush its fur and take it for walks!"

"Fíli, you are about to start weapon training and Kíli will start learning history and Khuzdûl. Both of you will have much less time than before. I don't think there will be enough time left to take care of a dog and you know your Amad, Dwalin and I are too busy to help you take care of it."

"But..." Fíli started.

"That's my final word," Thorin said firmly. "Now go wash up before supper."

Fíli stomped off without another word, but Kíli did not give in quite so easily.

"You are so mean to us!" He yelled at Thorin. "Adad would have let us have a puppy!"

"Kíli, that's enough!"

Kíli turned around and went after Fíli, slamming the door on the way out.

Thorin sagged against the wall. "I didn't realise he could even remember Víli. I thought he was too young when Víli went missing..."

Dwalin pressed his forehead against Thorin's. "He doesn't. He's heard Fíli use that when Dís doesn't give him what he wants."

"Do you think I am too strict with them?"

"No. I think you and Dís are doing a great job raising them and they will be well equipped to be your heirs. Kíli was only lashing out because he was angry. You know they all do that when they are young."

Thorin nodded. "Thank you. We should probably get to supper as well. Otherwise, Dís will give us a tongue-lashing as though we were still dwarflings ourselves."

Dwalin chuckled. "That she will."

…

Fíli and Kíli tried to convince Thorin a few more times during the following years, but he always came up with a reason why they couldn't have a puppy. Eventually, they realised it was no use.

…

"Alright, Óin, remember to pack the additional salves we listed. Glóin, get the needed funds from the Firebeards and Balin, draw up the contract for Gandalf's burglar and give it to me for signing before I leave to meet with Dáin's emissaries next week." The other dwarves nodded.
"Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?" Thorin looked at the company that was joining him to retake Erebor.

There was a brief silence before Fíli spoke up. "We were thinking. Erebor is going to be awfully empty for the first few years; before it is properly repopulated. We thought it would be nice if we could have a puppy to keep us company."

Kíli nodded.

Thorin opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked around the table.

Balin had his face trained into a carefully neutral expression. Óin was tapping his hearing horn in annoyance while Glóin chuckled. Dori looked indignant at such audacity, Ori was holding his breath and the corners of Nori's mouth were twitching in amusement. Bofur was grinning, Bombur chuckling and Bifur starring at the wall, humming the tune of the dwarven funeral march.

"Do you really think this is an appropriate time for this discu..."

Thorin felt a kick against his shin and looked at Dwalin.

/I have an idea. Tell them you'll think about it./ Dwalin signalled in Iglishmêk under the table where nobody else could see it. His amusement was written on his face.

Thorin frowned and his nephews held their breath in suspense.

"I will have to think about it," he said finally. "Don't get your hopes up too much."

The triumphant smiles Fíli and Kíli shared made Thorin wonder whether they had even heard his last sentence.

…

Neither Thorin nor Dwalin got around to mentioning the topic again until that evening in their chambers.

Thorin climbed into bed with Dwalin and kissed him on the nose. "Care to explain why you think agreeing to get them a puppy would be a good idea?"

"You know, I don't think any of you has really realised that Fíli and Kíli have been adults for a while now. They actually don't even need your permission to get a dog anymore. There's no law against keeping a dog as a pet, so your being king doesn't make any difference in that regard."

"Oh Mahal, you're right. They could actually bring one of Mordor's mutts into my halls anytime they want to!" Thorin paused. "Do you think the council would agree if I tried to pass a law..."

Dwalin's rumbling laughter shook the bed. "Don't be ridiculous, Thorin. Just because you had an unpleasant encounter with that dog in Lake-Town as a dwarfling doesn't mean all dogs are like that."

Thorin huffed, but let Dwalin continue.

"I thought we could at least use the fact that your nephews haven't realised they don't need to ask you for our amusement. You know how there are always tasks nobody wants to do on a journey?"

Thorin chuckled. "You are downright evil, do you know that?"

"You love me for it," Dwalin grinned. Thorin couldn't help but agree.

…

Thorin didn't think he had ever seen his nephews as eager to scrub the dishes, watch the ponies or take over the watch at night as during the quest to retake Erebor. Occasionally, he gave them tasks that didn't really need to be done and he and Dwalin watched in amusement as Fíli and Kíli shimmied up trees when they weren't actually lost. Balin simply shook his head.

…

Several days after the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin was taking a short break from organising his new kingdom when Fíli came up to him.

"Uncle Thorin, you said we could have a puppy if we didn't cause any trouble on the quest..."

"Really, Fíli, I'm sure this can wait until the mountain is settled into something more of a routine."

"But we found a puppy! Can we keep it?"

Thorin sighed. He had hoped he would have a bit more time before the topic came up again.

"Alright, you can keep it. But you will not neglect your other duties and you will make sure it is well-behaved."

Fíli grinned. "Of course! Thank you so much, Uncle Thorin!"

Kíli emerged from the doorway and Thorin realised he had been listening the entire time.

"Thank you, Uncle Thorin! Isn't she adorable?"

Thorin recoiled. Kíli was holding the ugliest creature Thorin had ever seen.

It was wrinkled and its fur was so short it nearly looked hairless, except for the dirt-coloured mane on its massive neck. Everything about it looked disproportionate, from its short backlegs over the long forelegs, huge paws and stubby ears to its sunken eyes. It blinked at him lazily with beady, unnaturally yellow eyes.

"Mahal help us, that's a warg! Kíli, drop that thing at once!"

Kíli only pressed it closer against his chest. "No. She's our puppy."

"We earned it, doing all the ridiculous things you asked us to do, even though we don't even have to ask you for permission anymore!" Fíli added, petting the creature's ugly head as it sniffled and licked at Kíli's neck.

"I agreed to a dog, not some... some spawn of Sauron! Dwalin, take that vile thing outside!"

Fíli stepped in front of it protectively, but Dwalin merely shuffled his feet where he was standing beside Thorin.

"I don't think it is dangerous to them," Dwalin mumbled.

"Not dangerous?! That thing is about to tear out Kíli's neck!"

"It is licking it, Thorin. That's a sign of affection for dogs."

"But that's the point, isn't it? That's not a dog, it's a warg!"

Dwalin crossed his arms. "It's just a pup. I'm not taking it outside to let it freeze to death or put my axes to it. I've heard that wargs are incredibly loyal and protective of their owners. If Fíli and Kíli do things right, it will not let any harm come to them."

"It's true," Balin said and Thorin realised the others in the company were now standing in a circle around them to look at the young warg. "I have read that as well. Wargs are extremely loyal to the person raising them and to everyone they consider their pack."

Thorin noticed Ori had slipped out from behind Dori and was cautiously petting the warg. It was thumping its spindly tail against Kíli's stomach. Ori pulled out a piece of dried meat and the warg carefully took it from his fingers.

Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Óin and Nori crowded around Ori, the princes and the warg. Thorin realised he had lost.

"Fine. But if that thing harms a single hair on anyone's beard, I will kill it myself!"

Fíli and Kíli beamed at him.

…

Thorin started keeping watch again at night. The old living quarters weren't restored yet so the company still slept in one corner of the throne room.

Thorin watched as the young warg lay curled between Fíli and Kíli, snoring gently. He expected it to wake up at any moment to show its true nature.

On the third night, Dwalin joined him. They hadn't spoken much during the last few days, still at odds about Fíli and Kíli's new pet.

"Come to bed, Thorin. You can't keep watch every night and the warg is not going to harm them. It hasn't tried to hurt them in any way."

"That thing is only waiting for everyone to stop watching."

"It's snoring. It won't stir unless someone wakes it. And you need your sleep as well."

"I am not going to let my nephews be killed by a pet warg, of all things! Not after everything we have been through."

Dwalin shook his head. "Fine, be as stubborn as you like, but I am keeping watch with you."

Thorin huffed when Dwalin pulled him close, but Dwalin was just so warm and comfortable.

He woke up to the sun shining through the high windows of the throne hall and Dwalin's rumbling snores. Thorin shot upright, but the warg was fast asleep and Fíli and Kíli unharmed.

"Go back to sleep," Dwalin muttered, waking at Thorin's abrupt movement. "They're fine."

"Hmm," Thorin conceded. "But not like this. My neck already hurts."

He pulled one of their bedrolls over and they both crawled into it. Dwalin wrapped himself around Thorin's back and Thorin was asleep again in no time at all.

…

The warg followed Fíli and Kíli around when they worked to make Erebor fit for habitation again and to all of their new tasks as princes of Erebor. At first they mostly carried it, but it soon grew and ran beside them. Thorin always winced at how close its fangs and claws came to his nephews' skin when they wrestled with it over a length of old rope. Fíli and Kíli never even got a scratch.

The warg sat beside them at meals, looking up with pleading eyes.

"You are not feeding that thing at the table," Thorin grumbled.

"She's called Nithâl, you know," Fíli said.

"How did you even come up with that name?" Thorin asked.

"Did you hear the sound she makes when she's excited?" Kíli said. "It sounds just like giggling."

Thorin shrugged. "Well, it's up to you what you name it, but it will not be fed at the table. That is my final word."

Fíli made sure Nithâl was fed before the dwarves' meals, but the warg still snuffled around the table as they ate.

Occasionally, Dwalin's face was entirely too innocent when his hand disappeared under the table with a piece of meat. Thorin scowled but said nothing.

…

The restoration of the mountain progressed rapidly and soon Thorin and Dwalin could move into the royal quarters. Fíli and Kíli moved into chambers close by, having decided that they didn't need separate quarters just yet.
Before long, the others of the company and the dwarves from the Iron Mountains also had private quarters.

Thorin and his nephews organised the dwarves into several groups. Some continued clearing the rubble from more living quarters for the dwarves that were trickling to Erebor from all over Middle-Earth and for the large trek that was travelling from the Ered Luin.

A group of engineers under Bombur's command checked the more severely damaged structures and began rebuilding them. They also began working on magnificent front gates for Erebor.

Dwarves took up their crafts and the forges were rekindled. Trade with Dale, Lake-Town and Dorwinion in the East resumed. Ori began an inventory of the library when he wasn't needed elsewhere.

…

Fíli and Kíli spent an hour before dinner each day training Nithâl. Although Thorin would never admit it, he was astonished how quickly the warg learnt the basic commands.

Before long, they moved on from simple commands to little tricks. Fíli, Kíli and Nithâl often entertained the other dwarves with a little show after dinner. Nithâl could soon join in the dwarves' dish-tossing routine. To Thorin's great regret, she also knew how to open doors.

…

Thorin blinked at the light drifting in through the light vents, yawned and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt about for his boots with his feet without looking. He only felt one boot.

Thorin pulled it on and then looked around. He stuck his head under the bed to see if the other boot had somehow been shoved there, but the boot was missing.

Thorin cursed and sat up again.

"What's wrong?" Dwalin asked.

"One of my boots has disappeared."

Dwalin wrinkled his forehead and then chuckled. "I think I have an idea where it might be."

He pulled on his own boots. Thorin hobbled after him with his one boot until they came to Fíli and Kíli's living quarters.

Kíli opened the door when they knocked, a cup of tea in his hand but not entirely awake yet.

"Good morning," Dwalin said pleasantly. "We wanted to have a quick look at Nithâl, if she's here."

"Uh, sure. She's right over..." Kíli trailed off as he turned around to look at the warg.

Thorin looked past Kíli at his nephews' pet. The warg blinked up at him from the blankets she slept on. Thorin stared at the dark, furry object she had been chewing on.

"Hey! What is she doing with my boot? Get it away from her!"

Kíli stepped aside. "Sorry, Uncle Thorin. She has a habit of doing that."

"That thing snuck into our chambers when we were asleep! She stole my boot! You ought to teach that thing proper behaviour instead of ridiculous tricks like opening doors!"

Fíli had also emerged from his room. His hair stuck up in every direction and he was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but he grinned when he saw what was going on.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Nithâl seems to have developed a liking for gnawing on things. Besides, your boots probably should have been replaced a while ago already."

"That decision is not up to your warg! Those boots carried me all the way to Erebor and I will not let your brutish pet use them as a chew toy!"

Dwalin was kneeling beside Nithâl, scratching her behind the ears. "You like that, muzmel, don't you? That's a good warg."

Thorin stared at him. "You are pampering that monster?"

"Don't listen to him, Nithâl, my pretty girl. He's just a grumpy old dwarf," Dwalin murmured at the warg. She thumped her tail.

"What did you s-?"

Dwalin grinned at Thorin. "Catch."

Thorin caught his boot and quickly shifted to holding it with his fingertips. He grimaced. "It's wet! And it reeks of warg breath!"

Fíli and Kíli looked like they were having the time of their lives.

"What were you expecting?" Fíli asked. "And I think that might actually be an improvement."

Thorin shot them his most vicious glare and strode off with as much dignity as he could while wearing only one boot and dangling the other from his hand.

He spent quite a while cleaning and polishing the offended boot, huffing and muttering as he did. Perhaps it was time to hire a servant; the kingdom was getting large enough.

…

After that, Thorin made sure he kept his boots well out of warg-reach at night. Much to his displeasure, Nithâl seemed to have taken a liking to him and his boots though.

When he discussed things with Fíli and Kíli, she snuffled at his boots. Thorin tried not to flinch back.

"She must think they smell like a carcass," Kíli remarked with a wide grin and Fíli called the warg away.

Thorin cuffed Kíli over the head. "The only reason they might smell is because that thing keeps licking them!"

At meals, Nithâl liked lying between Thorin and Fíli, her snout resting heavily on Thorin's boots. She gazed up at him pleadingly. As much as Thorin disliked her, her eyes reminded him of Kíli's when he was trying to persuade him. Thorin huffed and tried to concentrate on his food instead.

…

The council meetings were becoming as heated and loud as Thorin remembered them from when his grandfather had been king. There had been a council in the Ered Luin as well but the meetings had been smaller and shorter. Perhaps nobody had been quite as invested in their home in exile. Thorin had forgotten that ruling could be so exhausting when everybody wasn't simply worried for the community's survival but actually wanted to push their own interests instead.

Luckily, Fíli and Kíli had taken to the new challenge like a bear to a cave. They came up with compromises, saw through the others' plots and often lightened the mood with a joke when things became too tense. Sometimes Thorin wondered how they seemed to know things instinctively that he had taken years to learn under his father's and grandfather's guidance. Then again, Dís had the same political instincts as her sons and Balin had taught them countless lessons as well.

When the council meeting had nearly dissolved into a fistfight between Glóin and Heldri from the Iron Hills over an argument of whether to open the eastern or the northern mines first, Thorin had called for a break. Confident Balin and Dwalin would make sure no fighting broke out, Thorin hurried off to a nearby privy for some peace and quiet, knowing he would otherwise be assaulted by dwarves trying to pull him onto their side.

Sitting on the privy, Thorin pulled out a book about the staff-fighting technique of the Blacklocks that Ori had given him. He found it a relaxing read when he was stressed.

He had barely read one page when the door slowly creaked open. There was a snuffling sound and then the warg's head pushed in, quickly followed by its remaining body. Thorin had never realised just how large the warg had become. It was now nearly as tall as a full-grown dwarf.

Nithâl loomed over him as Thorin frantically scrabbled to get up and pull up his britches at the same time. He only succeeded in getting tangled, tripping and falling to the ground. To his terror, he realised his sword was still outside the counsil chamber, as weapons were not allowed to the counsil.

The warg sniffed at his face and Thorin flinched away. He could feel the warm breath on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Good warg. Good warg. Now... why don't you just go back to Fíli? He should have a nice piece of dried meat for you..." Thorin trailed off. Mentioning food right now probably wasn't the best idea. The warg had previously shown she knew the words for food quite well. Thorin did not need her thinking about food now.

"Just... be a good warg and run back to Fíli and Kíli..."

There was a snicker from the door.

Thorin's eyes flew open. "Fíli and Kíli! Call your beast back right now!"

"Here, Nithâl!"

The warg turned and hurried towards Kíli's voice immediately. Thorin let out a shaky breath.

His nephews' laughing faces appeared in the doorway and then quickly sobered when they saw their uncle. Fíli rushed over and helped Thorin up.

"I'm sorry. That crossed a line. We shouldn't have done that. Nithâl would never hurt you, you know. She considers you one of her pack."

"Just keep that thing away from me," Thorin snapped and strode off towards the council chamber after pulling up his britches. Squabbling dwarves were still so much better than wargs.

…

A few weeks later, Thorin heard a scream from his the direction of his nephews' chambers. Within seconds, he was running and drawing his sword. Dwalin was right behind him.

He pushed open the door and heard a whimper from Fíli's bedchamber. Cautiously, Thorin peered through the open door. Nithâl was crouched on the ground, her enormous jaws closed around a dwarf's neck. Kíli hovered close to the door with his knife out. He had clearly rushed in just before Thorin and Dwalin. Fíli leaned against the far wall, looking shaken and clutching a bleeding cut on his arm.

Dwalin quickly kicked the knife on the floor further away from the hands of the dwarf in Nithâl's clutches.

"What's going on here?" Thorin demanded.

"He... he attacked me with a knife," Fíli said. "Nithâl sprang at him so he missed and only nicked my arm."

Thorin looked down at the dwarf and realised that although the warg had a firm hold on the assassin's neck, he barely had a scratch. The dwarf's eyes were wide with terror.

"Please, don't let it hurt me," he whimpered. "I confess everything."

Nithâl growled and the dwarf froze again.

"Are there any other assassins?"

The dwarf shook his head slightly. Thorin glanced at Dwalin who nodded.

"We will call back the warg and take you to the dungeons," Thorin said, "but if you even think about escaping, she will tear out your throat. Can we agree on that?"

The dwarf gave the slightest of nods.

"Kíli, call her off."

"Let go, Nithâl."

The warg let go of the dwarf's throat and stepped away slightly, always keeping an eye on him as Dwalin quickly tied up his arms and led him off.

Thorin and Kíli hurried over to Fíli.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere besides your arm?" Thorin asked, looking at the cut.

Fíli let out a deep breath. "I'm fine. The cut isn't too deep either."

"Alright then, let's get you to Óin."

…

A few nights later, Thorin was down in the kitchens. He hadn't been able to sleep and figured having a snack was preferable to lying in bed tossing and turning.

The dwarf who had attempted to kill Fíli had turned out to be a lone perpetrator driven by revenge after his son had been killed in the Battle of the Five Armies. There was a newly installed city guard and with its members patrolling the corridors, Thorin was not worried about his safety.

He had just helped himself to a slice of bread and a sausage when he heard soft footsteps. Thorin turned around and saw the enormous warg coming towards him. She sat down beside him, whined quietly and looked up at him with big eyes.

Thorin stared at the warg for a moment.

"I guess you're hungry too, aren't you?"

The warg blinked.

Thorin looked around and shrugged. "Oh, who cares. There you go."

He tossed a sausage onto the ground and Nithâl eagerly began eating it. Thorin watched her. Hesitantly, he stretched out a hand and petted her head.

"I guess they were right, Nithâl. You aren't quite as horrible as I thought."

Translation of the Dwarvish words:
Adad – father
Amad – mother
Nithâl – the giggler
muzmel – beast of all beasts