A/N: Italicized writing think in the voice of Old Bilbo. It'll make sense, I promise.

While on the journey to the Lonely Mountain, Kili had been taking to looking at his reflection in every body of water he passed, constantly stroking the short, course hairs of what was certainly meant to be the beginnings of a beard. When the hairs seemed to remain at their current length, the young dwarf would sigh and straighten to full height, only to continue rubbing at his chin, hoping the action would encourage those stubborn hairs to grow.

It would be at this moment that Fili would peek at his brother from behind the trunk of an old tree and smirk at him. "Yes, brother, for the last time, you were born with that dreadful face and not even Gandalf can fix it for you."

"Very funny," Kili would scowl at the older, but it never lasted long. For Kili was never able to remain upset with his older brother for very long.

He would bump his shoulder to Fili's and offer a sad smile before reaching out to tug on his brother's growing beard. "How old were you again when this began to show?" He'd remembered tales his father had told him of dwarf men and women that never came into their beards and how it was looked down upon amongst them, not that it was really something they could control.

Fili would always laugh when Kili asked this question. He'd take hold of his brother's wrist with a firm grasp, his smile never once fading or changing into something false. Always, when in Kili's presence, his gaze shone with a particular sincerity. "Seventy-three, little brother," was the same answer time and time again.

And as usual, the revealed answer would cause Kili to sigh and shake his head. "What if I never come into my beard? I shall die beardless." With this said, he would pull his hand away from Fili's beard and grasp and shift to rejoin the company.

They always fell behind, you see.

So Fili would grasp Kili once again, keeping the younger dwarf in place and turn him around so that they could face one another and he would say to him…

* * *

Bilbo paused as he remembered the interaction of the dwarf brothers who had brought so much life and laughter to their company all those years ago. He remembered the last moment of peace they had been able to experience with one another, what it was he witnessed between them.

Something much deeper than blood relations.

"What would Fili say, Mr. Baggins?" One of the little hobbit girls asked, snapping Bilbo out of the age old memory and so quickly.

The children of the Shire were all gathered around him with their wide eyes, wanting to hear more about the fun-loving brothers that had inhabited so many of Bilbo's stories on his quest to the Lonely Mountain.

Bilbo shook his head and smiled. "It's been.. Nearly fifty years or so, children. I can't remember all the details." He lifted a hand to his head, gnarled fingers brushing against stiff whitening hair. "But I do remember that no matter what, Fili would never leave his brother in any sort of doubt."

"Did Kili ever grow a beard, Mr. Baggins?" The same child asked.

Many of the older children had heard the tale of the journey to the Lonely Mountain many times over while growing up, but still it was a very popular story to be heard, especially by the younger hobbit children that had dreams that took them places far outside of the Shire. The stories that Bilbo Baggins offered were, in their own way, an adventure.

"One thing you must learn about adventures, my dear girl," Bilbo began, approaching the topic gingerly. For the loss of Fili and Kili had damaged him greatly. "Not everyone gets what they want. Sometimes, you lose things, vey precious things and then they are left only in your memories and your heart."

* * *

So Fili would grasp Kili once again, keeping the younger dwarf in place and turn him around so that they could face one another and he would say to him, in the utmost sincerity, "My dear brother, beard or no beard, you are Kili and Kili is you. For without you, I am incomplete."