Night was calm.

The hammering of workers had stopped and Thorin had to admit that was both a blessing and a curse. The quietness, while welcoming to most, were always uneasy with dwarves. Every dwarf thrived in the knowledge of work. It was their lifeblood and being able to use tools and rock of those who came before them was always a boon to the spirit. When there was work to be done, be it with gem, rock or iron, the hearts of the people of the mountain thrived in it.

And Mahal knew that Erebor needed work. A dragon living among her halls had done such hurt to the stone but she had endured. The wounds were repairable and everyone had taken up a hammer as soon as healers deemed them able. There was no greater pride than to see family and friend pounding at stone, chipping away the stank of dragon and replacing it with the hard earned sweat of Mahal's children.

Thorin had been reluctant to let his sister-sons join in repairs though not out of any malice. He didn't think it was possible to feel any prouder of someone than he did of those two. It was seeing the slight flinch on Fili's face if he strained his side. It was the sharp exhale through his teeth if Kili put too much weight on that leg. Oin had cleared them as had the elven healers but the paternal role he had played for many years still hollered inside his mind that they should have been resting. Much as Dwarven mothers were given grief for being overprotective, Thorin was well aware that he could be just as bad or, at times, even worse than his sister.

He respected his nephews enough to let them be though...but if he inquired of those working about them to their status then that was another matter altogether. If he called them back to sit and take ale, bread and meat and to speak of what was to come, it mattered not that they had spoken of such things several times before.

Taking another breath, he urged his heart to slow. This had been what he had been working for ever since the attack and now it was here. The rebuilding had begun!

Thorin had been reluctant to accept the room of his grandfather, the chambers of the King, when so many other repairs had to be done but the people, Dáin's folk included, had insisted. After all, they declared, Thorin had won back the Mountain!

Frowning, Thorin wandered the room. This victory would not have been his without his Company. Without Bilbo, without his nephews. He may have led the party but he owed it to Bilbo for recognizing his Gold Sickness for what it was and it was Bilbo's keen sight that led them into the secret door. It was Bilbo that allowed them to approach Smaug. It was his nephews that struck Thorin from his gold sickness. Made him remember who he was...who THEY were and how Thorin had shattered the Arkenstone that dared make him forget for even a moment.

Then it had been his nephews that had killed Smaug.

Thorin had ushered Kili away, up to one of the hidden rooms. His leg wound had grown worse and with the dragon loose, he was not going to risk him. The boy had protested immensely but the look Thorin had perfected over decades of parenting had not lost its power. Adding a threat of "I have traveled this journey as your King and your leader but make no mistake, sister-son, I am capable of embracing my role as Uncle and all that it entails if need be" had served to stop his protests. If Thorin had lingered a half moment more to put a kiss to his head then it was hardly questionable.

Fìli had tackled the dragon when they had been herded through Erebor (effectively taking a good two decades off Thorin's life right from the start) and when the dragon took off, raining his fire on Laketown, Fili had still clung to his back.

It was the first time throughout the entire journey where Thorin was, as the Company saw it, hysterical.

Screaming and shouting, howling at the dragon to "COME FACE —ME— YOU WICKED WORM!" Pushing Dwalin aside and trying to tear after the creature with no care to his own health. Screaming to Mahal. Howling at the earth for daring to put the Long Lake in his path.

And crying up to Fili in the distance, "MAHAL AS MY WITNESS—-GROWN DWARF OR NOT, BOY, I AM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!"

His threats had gone unanswered until they heard the sound of a fired wind lance. It was Bard, attempting to fell the dragon. While his actions were admirable, commendable, brave...all Thorin could picture was that long bolt skewering his eldest and his stomach dropped with worry. His blood ran cold. When Bard's shot had missed, he had both mourned and cheered.

Then, it had been keen eyed Bilbo who advised movement above them and there, in all his stubbornness, had been his second sister-son, readying a wind lance of his own, despite being barely able to stand.

Oh, the things Thorin had screeched at that boy but the younger dwarf had paid him no mind. His eyes were focused, mind clear and after a tense moment, everyone knew why.

The dragon was returning and you could just barely make out Fili taunting it, baiting it and occasionally stabbing as well he could into its hide.

Pride took Smaug down as he had every intention of "roasting your heir before your eyes Oakenshield! But only after you watch your mountain burn!"

Too occupied was he to see the smaller dwarf, half draped in shadow until the bolt of the lance found its mark, driving so deep it all but vanished.

Smaug fell.

Fili leapt away, the mountain gave have way under his fingers, despite Kili scrambling to reach him and he'd fallen, nearly in unison with the accursed dragon.

Thorin, despite himself, had lunged after his sister son and while it had hardly been a soft landing (Fili had tumbled half in Thorin's arms and half over his shoulder, utterly knocking the wind out of him and sending them both careening to the ground) it had spared Fili permanent injury as Thorin had tucked him into his chest like a babe when the dragon had finally collided with the ground and any broken rock and earth had found Thorin's flesh, not Fili's.

Standing once the trembling had stopped, Thorin was nearly sure he would have half strangled the boy had he not spied Kili attempting to scale down the mountainside far too quickly with that leg. Attention distracted by trying to keep his youngest sister son from plowing to his death, Fili had all but been crushed by the relieved Company.

Lifting Kili down as soon as he was able (and trying and failing to hide his "Ah, Mahal, my back"—catching a sister son of full grown weight and lifting another nearly there after he had already carried Kili for quite some ways up to the mountain—-were not kind to Thorin's post-prime age) Thorin had returned to his eldest and held both his boys close for quite a long while, stroking their hair and murmuring words to them that only family could get away with.

Once his nerves had cooled and they had parted ways on their trek to observe the fallen beast, the Dwarf King had planted two very sharp swats, one across each of their backsides, to two whimpering "Irak'Adad!" protests. Older he might have been but a hand hardened by war and the forge still stung hard and he meant to make it clear that while he valued and commended their bravery, he did not forgive them risking their lives so nonchalantly.

Shaking his head with a smile as he remembered their wide eyes at the dragon's limp corpse and the way Kili poked it as if it were a dead kill he was assuring were truly deceased before jumping back to Dwalin and himself, he had to admit that his heart could not have held more pride for them if he had all the room in the depths of Khazad-dûm. Fili had dared take a dragon on their own terrain, the air, and Kili had not let a leg wound stop him and his aim had flown true to the one spot of weakness that only a truly skilled archer would know. He had no doubt the two of them had planned their assault together and while it had shortened his life, he was certain, by several decades to observe it come to fruition, there was a deep justice in it.

The wicked worm that had collapsed Erebor in the midst of its prime had been felled by the sons of Her princess.

It had not been long before Ori and then Bofur and then all the others had begun shouting "Dragonsbane!" "Dragonscourge!" The names would stick and when the time came for a coronation, Thorin was determined to use those names.

They had earned it and may all of Erebor know it!

Finally ceasing his pacing, Thorin let himself sink into the bed. He had run here many a time as a child, leaping up beside his grandfather to hear tales of old, often with Frerin right on his tail and years later, Dis had followed.

Now, while there was much work to do and the sheets of cotton and wool and blankets of fur had yet to reflect the fortune of Erebor, it was here. For the first time since that fateful day, Thorin Oakenshield felt at peace. Oh there was much to do, alliances to be made and people to care for but they were home!

He allowed his mind to rest, to drift and dreams of the grand future yet to come would ease the rest of his worries.

Thus, when the war splitting scream rang through the corridors later, Thorin almost tumbled from the bed.

It was close, shrill and familiar.

"Fili!" He said aloud to himself as he scrambled to his feet, not bothering to clothe anymore than he was. A sight he must have been, the proclaimed King of the Lonely Mountain tearing out of his chambers in naught more than underslacks.

He was hardly alone though. The rest of his Company, including Bilbo as well as several of Dain's soldiers had rushed the hallway, trying to reach the sound of agony.

It was Frerin's old room where Fili and Kili had decided to bunk together until more repairs were done.

Fili screamed again and now there was also Kili, screaming for his brother "Wake up, wake up!"

Pushing through his company and rather harshly at that, (he would have to apologize to poor Dori later) Thorin plowed through the door, calling "Fili! Kili!"

Kili was up, though still only in his sleep slacks and the poor boy looked terrified. He was limping horrendously (the leg needed time to heal) but he was attempting to approach his brother, pleading with a choked voice "Wake up, Fili, please!"

Fili, not two feet away, had a knife in each hand and at close glance, one of them had nicked poor Kili already. It was a mild injury though.

Thorin knew that wild lostness he saw in his nephew's eyes. He saw it rarely but seeing it so soon after everything they had endured...he'd been foolish to think they would escape without it in some degree.

Giving a simple nod to Kili to keep talking, Thorin approached his eldest from the side, taking care to stay out of his range of sight (though he didn't know if this was a livid dream or a true flashback; in either case, caution was necessary) and his eyes surveyed the boy's stance.

It was rigid, firm but luckily, there was not much forethought into it, very unlike his usual manner. Perhaps they were lucky and it was a vivid dream. While neither flashbacks or vivid dreams were pleasant, the latter was decidingly easier to cope with and recover from.

"Fili, please, wake up!" Kili tried again and his brother jerked his body to face him. "You're dreaming, Brother. We're safe, wake up!"

Fili twitched a bit and his voice came out a bit slurred. "The battle..."

"It's over!" Kili insisted, eyes a bit watery. "We're safe, brother!"

Fili's grip on his knives lessened.

Thorin took his chance. He cane about, quickly and clamped his hands on Fili's wrists, just enough to make him drop the blade. Even as Filí was jerking, beginning to shout, Thorin was whispering in his deep baritone. "All is well, my sister-son. Look about you, truly focus and look. I am here. Your brother is here. We are safe. You are safe."

Almost with little else he could do, the blond dwarf obeyed. For a moment, his breath came hitched but gradually, those glassy eyes focused. "K-Kili..."

The dark haired dwarf nodded "It's me, Fili. We were bunking in Uncle Frerin's old room, remember?"

Turning slightly, Fili's eyes met his uncle's. "T-Thorin, I...forgive me, I..."

"Shh." Thorin loosened his grip and Fili sank to the floor, back against the bed. "All is well, sister-son."

Shaking his head sharply, Fili argued "It wasn't. You...and Kili...and Dwalin...Ma..." he shuddered and when Kili knelt next to him, his eyes pained. "Mahal, Kili, I'm sorry." He brushed his hands over the small slice on his brother's upper arm. "I didn't..."

"It's okay, Fili." The younger one said instantly "Doesn't even hurt."

"But I cut you! I.." he eyed his dropped knives as if they were a snake. "They're supposed to protect you, not..."

"Sister-Son." Thorin's tone was soft, unaccusing. "The body forms its own memory and if the mind is not there to counter it, it will act on its own." He smiled as warm as Fili remember. "You are not to blame."

"But..." He locked eyes with Kili "If I did once, I could hurt you again!" Oh the horrible fear in that tone.

"You wouldn't.."

"Kili, I just DID! Don't tell me I wouldn't!" Face in his hands, Fili trembled.

Kili sat there a long moment then said "I...I could stay in Uncle Thorin's old room and..."

"No." Thorin interrupted. He heard the hesitation and saw the fear as much as if Kili had announced it. Fili had his dreams but Kili did not want to be alone. "I will not have either of you surrendering security of your own for the other."

Fili's voice cracked. "Uncle, I could have hurt him!" He knew what Thorin spoke of though. It had taken forever to get Kili to sleep. Alone, he would get none. "If I act out again, I..."

"Then I will wake you as your brother did this time." Thorin assured him, hand to his head "And I will stay to ensure no more outbursts take your mind this eve."

Kili looked up, hope in his eyes as he stood "You'll stay, Uncle Thorin?"

"The bed is surely large enough," Thorin reasoned. "Unless you prefer I not?"

"N-no." Fili stood slowly, "Please." He swallowed "I...please stay." That took more courage to say than any action on the battlefield but when Thorin gently pulled him up and let him lay against his chest a moment, he cherished it. "Please stay, Uncle."

"So, I shall."