-General-
As both brothers exited the royal chamber, they whistled melodies their mother used to sing to them when they were children. And speaking of their mother… their dear and beautiful mother had forgotten them, replacing them with her grandchildren.
"A son is a pain in the ass, and grandchildren are a breath of fresh air. I only have to take care of them for a while—not all day like I did with you," she told them when they asked why she ignored them most of the time.
Even their wives nodded in agreement: both Fíli and Kíli were a pain in the ass, even now that they were "grown up," at 85 years old.
They had always hated being normal. Dig a hole and let their beards grow to their knees? No, thank you. They preferred to be cheerful, playful, and bring a smile to the little ones' faces.
Many would think they had always been like that since childhood. Oh, how wrong they were! The two brothers, when they were just milk-drinkers, had witnessed the despair that reigned among the dwarves of Erebor. The children didn't laugh, didn't play—they only cried.
The moment that marked them forever was seeing their mother cry. From that day on, they swore to be the joy of the people of Erebor.
"I'd rather have their sorrows forgotten because of my jokes. I don't care if they curse me," Kíli would say with that smile of his, when Bilbo once asked why they were always laughing.
"It's better they shout out of annoyance and anger than out of rage and sadness," Fíli added.
Now, despite their jokes and the constant curses, the brotherly duo was deeply respected in Erebor. Not only for the brave feat of joining an expedition they weren't sure they'd survive, but also for their kindness and willingness to help others. For this, and much more, Fíli and Kíli were considered qualified candidates to inherit the throne of Durin's sons.
These brothers were about to embark once more on a new expedition. This time, not as mere companions, but as leaders.
At the request of their king, Thorin Oakenshield, they would command an army of five hundred dwarves toward Moria. They would eradicate the orcish plagues that squirmed like worms beneath the stone, and once more restore the glory of the House of Durin.
"How are the preparations going?" Kíli asked one of the dwarves, once he reached the place where the supplies were being gathered.
"Prince Kíli," the dwarf replied with a courteous bow, before beginning to detail the amount of food, water, and spare weapons. "Everything is ready. The men are eager to depart, my prince. The moment you give the order, we'll march."
Nodding, Kíli turned to his brother, who was inspecting the carts from top to bottom. Both had left behind their playful attitude, assuming the seriousness of the moment. Now there would be men under their command, and they couldn't afford to lose them to a foolish decision.
Feeling his brother's gaze, Fíli nodded with satisfaction.
"If Thorin hires Aldril to join us, we'll depart at dusk," he said.
"So you're already planning to leave… don't you need a wizard for your expedition?"
That all-too-familiar voice—one they hadn't heard in years—reached both brothers' ears. When they turned their heads toward the source, they saw him: leaning on his staff, with the relaxed air of someone strolling through his garden.
"Gandalf!!!" both brothers exclaimed in unison.
A radiant smile lit up their faces. The seriousness they had adopted vanished like smoke in the wind. They both jogged toward the old wizard, who was smiling as well. Though Fíli and Kíli were perhaps the dwarves who had given him the most headaches, Gandalf held great affection for them—especially because they, along with Balin, were the first to accept the little hobbit.
Gandalf's reunion with the two dwarves did not go unnoticed, especially by three other dwarves who knew the old wizard well.
"Gandalf...?" Glóin whispered uncertainly from a distance.
He had planned to accompany Fíli and Kíli on the expedition, though not without some resentment. If it weren't for those brats, I'd already have everything ready! he thought with frustration, seeing that everyone else seemed more prepared than he was.
"It's Gandalf!" Bofur exclaimed joyfully, just as he arrived at the camp alongside Glóin.
He too was late, though for a very different reason. His dwarf girlfriend had made sure to delay him considerably.
"I don't know if you'll come back alive," she had told him, throwing him onto the bed, "so I have to make the most of it."
"It is Gandalf, no doubt about it!" said Ori excitedly.
Unlike his companions, no one was concerned about Ori arriving late. He had everything ready since the day before. His only delay was due to… an intestinal issue.
Those mushrooms at breakfast had done a number on him!
As for Gandalf, he had already noticed the presence of these dwarves. One should never doubt the eyesight of a Maia, after all. All were familiar faces to the old wizard—well, Glóin had put on a bit of weight, but even so, he was unmistakable.
"He's following Aldril," Gandalf murmured, frowning as he looked around. "But I don't see him anywhere…"
Fíli and Kíli, having noticed his confusion, nodded in unison.
"Aldril is with Thorin," Fíli replied. "But let me tell you something, Gandalf: if you're planning to ask whether we'll accept you in the expedition, there's nothing to worry about! We're in charge of reclaiming Moria, and of course we'll accept you. The help of a wizard is never unwelcome."
"So he's with Thorin…" the wizard whispered, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
But then Fíli's next words made him pause. He looked at the brothers, brow slightly furrowed, as if he hadn't heard correctly.
"You two are the ones leading the expedition?"
"Of course. Thorin put us in charge," Kíli declared proudly, his chest puffed out.
"Don't doubt us, Gandalf. These years have made us wise dwarves," Fíli added with a confident smile.
Gandalf observed them for a few more seconds, then let out a long sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Yes… this expedition would surely fail without proper support," he muttered.
Fortunately, he—and surely Aldril—would be there to back them up! Not that he doubted the growth the brothers had gone through over the past decade, of course not… but wise dwarves? No true sage would ever call themselves that. (Unless, of course, they were one of those pompous old men from the East…)
It was then that a figure approached at a slow and steady pace, walking beside a dwarf in a radiant robe. A dozen dwarven guards followed them. Every dwarf in the vicinity stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads in respect—for before them stood their king:
Thorin Oakenshield.
He lit the space around him with his presence. It had become rare to see the king in recent months, so many took the opportunity to sneak a look at their beautiful and valiant leader.
At his side, Aldril had already spotted the gray-robed wizard from afar. It only took a few seconds to reach the old Gandalf, who stood with his usual nonchalant air, leaning on his staff. However, upon seeing Thorin, he nodded respectfully.
"King under the Mountain," he said.
"Leave the formalities, Gandalf," Thorin replied, smiling as he approached and gave the wizard a brief hug. While he didn't have the same close bond with him as he did with Aldril and Bilbo, he still held great respect for Gandalf. Without his help, he doubted any of them would have made it to Erebor in one piece.
"What brings you here?" Thorin asked once they had separated.
"I've come to offer my services once more for the expedition you're preparing," Gandalf replied. "Will there be any objection?"
"None at all," Thorin said, shaking his head. He glanced at Aldril, who simply shrugged—it wasn't his moment to speak.
"With you and Aldril, this expedition is sure to succeed."
"Brilliant! Aldril and Gandalf are joining us!" Kili shouted, cutting Thorin off mid-sentence. He spun on his heels and barked out orders in a piercing voice to the dwarves under his command.
"Everything is ready—we march at nightfall!"
***
"[email protected]/Mrnevercry"