quarterly reminder that if i reblog something ai-generated it is 110% and always an accident and for the love of god please tell me so i can delete it from my blog
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
Warning: alcohol. Both Kili and the reader are drunk by the end.
The library in Erebor was warm and inviting, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the stone walls as Kili and I nestled into a cozy corner near a roaring fire. The scent of old parchment and the faint smoke from the hearth mingled in the air, creating a serene atmosphere perfect for unwinding after a busy day.
I had been spending more time with Kili lately, especially since I’d started courting Fili. Kili, ever the charming and mischievous brother, had insisted that I join him for a drink in the library to relax. He poured us both a glass of wine, a deep, rich red that promised warmth and comfort.
"To childhood stories and stolen wine," he said, lifting his glass.
I clinked my glass against his, laughing. "To childhood stories and stolen wine," I echoed, taking a sip. It was good—surprisingly good, and the warmth spread through me quickly, making everything feel a little lighter, a little more fun.
As I sank into the cushions of the armchair, Kili settled beside me, making himself comfortable as he took a long drink from his own glass.
As the hour grew later, and the bottle grew emptier, the tales grew livelier.
“I told you this was a good idea,” Kili said, pouring more wine into our mismatched goblets. His grin was as lopsided as his pouring hand, and a little bit of wine sloshed onto the table.
“You always think everything’s a good idea,” I teased, taking another sip. “But I’m not complaining.”
“Aye,” he said, raising his goblet in a mock toast. “Besides, I’ve got stories—stories you’re going to love, especially since you’re courting Fili.” His grin widened, and I knew I was in trouble.
“Oh no,” I groaned, though I couldn’t suppress my laughter. “Kili, don’t you dare.”
“Too late,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Did you ever hear about the time Fili got stuck in a barrel?”
I nearly choked on my wine. “A barrel? What was he doing in a barrel?”
Kili burst out laughing, his voice echoing through the library. “It wasn’t on purpose! We were just dwarflings, and he thought it would be fun to hide in one during a game of hide-and-seek. But then, of course, he got stuck. He was yelling for me to help, but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even move.”
I clutched my side, already doubled over. “You didn’t help him?”
“Eventually,” Kili said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “But not before half the kitchen staff found him. And they were none too pleased about having to stop what they were doing to pry him out of it.”
The mental image of Fili, proud and composed Fili, wedged in a barrel and shouting for help, was too much. I collapsed onto the table, my laughter shaking the wooden surface.
“And that’s not even the best part,” Kili continued, his face flushed with mirth and wine. “He was so embarrassed he swore us all to secrecy. But the next week, Balin called him ‘Barrel Lad’ at the dinner table, and the whole hall knew.”
I howled, my laughter almost as loud as Kili’s had been. “Oh, Fili is never going to live this down.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Kili said, raising his goblet triumphantly.
Before I could reply, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor outside the library. The heavy, purposeful tread was unmistakable—Fili.
The door swung open, and Fili stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and his brows raised. “And just what is going on here?”
Kili and I froze for a moment, caught red-handed. But then we looked at each other, and it was all over. The laughter came rushing back, uncontrollable and unstoppable.
“You!” I gasped, pointing at Fili as tears of laughter streamed down my face. “You… stuck in a barrel! Barrel Lad!”
Kili nearly fell off his chair, laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach. “Oh, her face when I told her! Priceless!”
Fili stepped into the room, his expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Kili, you swore you wouldn’t tell anyone about that.”
Kili grinned, unapologetic. “And yet, here we are.”
Fili sighed, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at me, even as I tried to catch my breath. “And you,” he said, pointing a finger at me. “I thought you were the sensible one.”
“Not when wine and Kili are involved,” I said, still giggling.
Shaking his head, Fili moved to Kili’s side, placing a steadying hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “You’re drunk,” he said simply.
Kili grinned up at him. “Just a little. But she’s drunk too!”
“I’m not drunk,” I protested, though the slight slur in my words betrayed me.
Fili sighed again, but this time it was accompanied by a small, fond smile. “Right. Let’s get you to bed, Kili, before you end up telling her every embarrassing story you’ve got about me.”
“Oh, there’s more?” I asked, my eyes lighting up.
“Don’t encourage him,” Fili said, though his tone was light as he helped Kili to his feet. “Come on, brother.”
“Fine, fine,” Kili grumbled, though he was still grinning. He leaned heavily on Fili as we all made our way out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors.
When we reached Kili’s room, Fili guided him inside and deposited him onto the bed. “Stay put,” Fili ordered, pulling the blanket over him.
Kili saluted weakly. “Aye, Captain Barrel Lad.”
I stifled a laugh as Fili groaned and shut the door behind us.
“You’ve created a monster,” Fili said, shaking his head as he turned to me. “Come on. Let’s get you to your room before you start calling me that in public.”
I laughed, the wine still making everything funnier than it probably was. “I make no promises.”
Fili rolled his eyes, but his hand found mine as he guided me through the halls. His touch was warm and steady, a comforting anchor as the effects of the wine began to catch up with me.
When we reached my door, he turned to face me, his expression soft in the faint glow of the torches. “You had fun tonight, didn’t you?”
I smiled, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “I always have fun with Kili. But tonight was… special.”
Fili’s lips curved into a small smile. “Good. Just… don’t let him get you into too much trouble.”
“No promises,” I said again, grinning up at him.
He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Goodnight, love,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Goodnight, Barrel Lad,” I whispered, laughing as I slipped inside before he could respond.
The last thing I heard before the door closed was Fili’s exasperated groan, followed by a quiet chuckle that made my heart feel lighter than ever.
Pros of AI: my landlord that im sueing is using AI for his defense instead of hiring a lawyer (despite having the money to do so) and it is fabricating laws that don't exist which im told is not great in the eyes of the court, so maybe ill win :D
So I drew myself as a Blue Mountain Dwarf, I am in love with the Hobbit movies right now and the more I’ve looked into the lore the more fun I’ve had which is what has brought me here! As a woman who struggles with PCOS I feel like this is the first world that I could implement myself and not have to try to make myself more societally attractive to feel proportionate to the other characters and female characters especially! Yes there are beautiful elves but the boys I like are rugged Dwarves! I get to be heavy set, hairy, loud, brutish and those things work with the attractive traits of female dwarves. I love that honestly, I’m very excited about my fan fics I have going and the world I’ve found myself in for now.
Being best friends with Kili and fletching arrows while exchanging gossip whilest being married to Dwalin.
Kili x platonic!reader, Dwalin x reader.
The sun was low in the sky, painting the clearing in warm tones of gold and amber. I sat cross-legged on a soft patch of grass with Kili beside me, the two of us surrounded by bundles of arrow shafts, feathers, and twine. Our task: fletching arrows for the company’s next leg of the journey. But, as always, the work was secondary to the gossip.
Kili adjusted the feather on his arrow and grinned at me, his dark eyes twinkling. “So, tell me again,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “How exactly did you end up marrying Dwalin?”
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve heard this story a dozen times.”
“Yes, but it still amazes me. The mighty Dwalin, falling for someone as mischievous as you.” He gestured dramatically with his unfinished arrow. “Doesn’t he ever worry you’ll get him into trouble?”
I snorted. “Kili, please. If anything, he’s the one getting me into trouble. Do you know how many times I’ve had to apologize to strangers for his gruffness? And don’t even get me started on the time he tried to barter with a blacksmith by threatening to ‘test the quality of the goods’ with his fists.”
Kili burst out laughing, nearly dropping his arrow. “That sounds like Dwalin, all right. No wonder Thorin always sends him ahead when there’s haggling to be done. The poor traders probably hand over their wares just to get rid of him.”
I smiled fondly, running my fingers along the smooth wood of an arrow shaft. “He means well, though. You should see him with the little ones in Ered Luin. They climb all over him, and he just lets them. He even carves toys for them when he thinks no one’s looking.”
Kili looked at me with mock horror. “Dwalin? Soft? Say it isn’t so!”
“Oh, he’d deny it with every breath,” I said, smirking. “But I see through that gruff exterior. He’s all bark, and—well, he’s mostly bite, too, but only when necessary.”
“Or when someone steals his ale,” Kili added, grinning.
“Exactly.”
The conversation turned to lighter topics as we continued our work, the pile of finished arrows growing steadily. Kili, as always, had the juiciest bits of gossip about the company.
“Did you hear about Fili and that innkeeper’s daughter back in the last town?” he asked, his voice dropping conspiratorially.
“Let me guess,” I said, tying off the fletching on an arrow. “He tried to charm her, and she wasn’t having it?”
“Not quite,” Kili said, his grin widening. “She was interested, but then he accidentally insulted her father’s beard. Called it ‘uneven.’” He shook his head in mock despair. “Fili and his big mouth. That man could talk himself out of a treasure hoard.”
I laughed, setting down the arrow. “And what about you? Any secret admirers I should know about?”
“Plenty,” Kili said with a wink, “but none as interesting as your dear husband. Speaking of which, does Dwalin know you’re here gossiping with me instead of keeping him company?”
“Does Dwalin ever know where I am when I’m with you?” I replied, smirking. “If he did, he’d probably come storming through the woods, lecturing me about the ‘proper use of time’ and how you’re a bad influence.”
Kili feigned outrage, clutching a hand to his chest. “Me, a bad influence? I’m wounded.”
“You? Wounded? Only when you forget to duck,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.
Just then, a familiar, gravelly voice rang out from the edge of the clearing. “I knew I’d find you two idling away the day instead of finishing your work.”
Kili and I froze, then turned slowly to see Dwalin standing there, arms crossed, his face a mixture of exasperation and amusement. His tattooed knuckles flexed slightly, and I knew he was trying to decide whether to scold us or join in the teasing.
“You’re just in time, darling,” I said sweetly, holding up a nearly finished arrow. “Care to lend a hand?”
Dwalin raised an eyebrow. “Lend a hand? With Kili here? The lad can’t even fletch a straight arrow.”
“Oi!” Kili protested, waving a particularly fine arrow in Dwalin’s direction. “This one’s better than anything you could make.”
Dwalin stepped forward, plucked the arrow from Kili’s hand, and inspected it critically. “Not bad,” he admitted, though his tone was gruff. “Still wouldn’t trust it to fly straight in a real fight.”
I smothered a laugh as Kili glared at Dwalin. “Careful,” I said, grinning at my husband. “You’re outnumbered here.”
Dwalin’s expression softened, and he reached out to ruffle my hair, though his eyes were still sharp as they landed on Kili. “Outnumbered, maybe. Outmatched? Never.”
The three of us settled into a companionable rhythm after that, with Dwalin grumbling good-naturedly about the “sorry state” of our arrows while Kili and I continued to chatter away. It wasn’t long before the pile of finished arrows was large enough to satisfy even Thorin.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I leaned back against Dwalin’s broad shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence. Kili stretched out beside us, twirling an arrow between his fingers.
“You know,” Kili said with a grin, “I think we make a pretty good team.”
I smiled, glancing up at Dwalin, who was pretending to inspect an arrow but clearly enjoying himself. “We do. Even if some of us grumble more than others.”
Dwalin snorted, but his arm slipped around my shoulders. “You lot would be lost without me.”
Kili and I exchanged a look, then burst out laughing. Lost without him? Maybe. But with Dwalin at my side and Kili as my partner-in-crime, I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my days.
As the cold of winter deepened and Erebor's stone halls grew ever colder, the sense of community among its dwarfs became even more important. You, Kili, and Bombur, having worked together to help repair fireplaces and deliver meals, began to brainstorm an idea to ensure that every dwarf, no matter their station, could have a warm meal during the harsh winter months.
One evening, after a long day of work and with a warm fire crackling in the background, the three of you gathered in the cozy nook near the kitchens. Bombur had just finished preparing a hearty stew, and the three of you were seated around the table, reflecting on the last few weeks.
“You know,” you said thoughtfully, swirling the warm cider in your mug, “we’ve done a lot of work already, but I can’t help but feel like we could do more. The winter is long, and there are still so many families that could use a bit of extra warmth.”
Kili leaned forward, his eyes bright with the idea beginning to form in his mind. “What if we hosted regular dinners? Once a week, perhaps, where we invite all of Erebor’s dwarfs—everyone, no matter their status. We could make sure everyone has a hot meal to look forward to.”
Bombur’s eyes lit up at the thought of more meals. “A grand feast every week? I think I can handle that,” he said with a hearty laugh. “Nothing like a good bit of cooking to warm the soul.”
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Exactly. But I’m thinking we make it an annual tradition—something to keep going through the cold months of winter. It could be a celebration of our community, a way to keep spirits high during the darkest days.”
Kili’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “And we could teach the younger dwarfs how to cook. We could have apprenticeships in the kitchen—let them help prepare the meals, learn the craft. That way, we can keep the dinners running, even when Bombur is busy with other tasks. It’ll help build a stronger sense of camaraderie.”
You grinned at the thought of younger dwarfs bustling around the kitchen, learning from the masterful Bombur. “That’s the idea. They’ll get the skills, and we’ll have a new generation of cooks to carry on the tradition. What do you think?”
Kili and Bombur exchanged an excited glance. “I think it’s brilliant,” Kili said, his grin widening. “It gives the younger dwarfs something to look forward to, a way to contribute to the kingdom in a meaningful way.”
You nodded, feeling the weight of the idea settle in. But there was one thing left to do—convince Thorin and Fili. Both of them had been particularly focused on their duties lately, with Thorin poring over maps of the kingdom and Fili working alongside him on various matters of state. It would take a bit of courage to interrupt their work, but you felt certain that this idea could be the spark that brought Erebor closer together.
---
Later that day, you, Kili, and Bombur made your way to Thorin’s study, where he and Fili were seated at a large table, discussing plans for the kingdom’s future. The air in the room was serious and filled with the rustling of maps and scrolls, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of nervousness as you approached.
Fili looked up at the sound of your footsteps, his smile lighting up when he saw you. “Ah, there you are. How’s the kitchen?” he asked with a gentle chuckle.
“You know, as busy as ever,” you said with a grin. “But we’ve been thinking about something—an idea to help with the cold winters. Something that could bring the dwarfs of Erebor together.”
Thorin raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from the map to you and Kili. “I’m listening,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
Kili was the first to speak, his voice excited and full of energy. “We’ve been helping deliver meals, but we’ve also been thinking it might be a good idea to host regular dinners. A place where all of Erebor’s dwarfs can come together, share a meal, and enjoy each other’s company. It could be a weekly tradition—something to keep the spirit of community alive, especially in the colder months.”
Thorin listened intently, though his brow furrowed with concern. “A good idea, but there’s the matter of actually planning it. We don’t have enough resources to cater to every dwarf in Erebor every week, and it could be difficult to manage.”
Bombur, ever the practical thinker, stepped forward with a solution. “We’ve already got the kitchens and the means to cook, but what we need is the help of the younger dwarfs. I’ve been thinking that if we taught them how to cook, they could help with the preparations, the setting up, and the serving of the meals. It would also give them valuable skills, ensuring that we can keep the dinners going, even when I’m tied up elsewhere.”
Fili, always quick to support a good idea, leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “I like the sound of that. Teaching the younger dwarfs to cook would be an excellent way to build a sense of responsibility and camaraderie. They’ll learn a craft that is as important as any skill.”
Thorin’s expression softened, and a glimmer of approval flashed across his face. “It’s not a bad idea,” he said thoughtfully. “But there are still concerns. Managing the logistics of it all—how do we keep track of the food, how do we make sure there’s enough for everyone? What if we run out?”
You spoke up, feeling more confident now that the idea was taking shape. “We could ask each household to contribute a portion of their harvests, or set aside food for the dinners. The dwarfs in Erebor are generous, and I’m sure we could count on them to contribute something. We could make it a point of pride for each dwarf to offer something to the table.”
Kili nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, and we could host these dinners in different halls or areas of the mountain to make sure everyone has access, no matter where they live. We can rotate the venues, and it will help ensure that it feels like a true community event.”
Thorin and Fili exchanged a glance, and you could see that the plan was starting to make sense to them.
Fili smiled at you. “This could work,” he said, his voice full of admiration for the idea. “If we start small, make sure the younger dwarfs learn to cook and contribute, we’ll be able to keep it going. And the idea of rotating locations will make it feel like a grand tradition.”
Thorin, his gaze still thoughtful, nodded slowly. “Alright, then. Let’s make this work. I’ll have the dwarfs in the various halls start preparing, and we’ll allocate a budget to provide for the initial meals. But we’ll need to keep it organized, and I’ll have the royal guards help manage the flow of dwarfs to make sure it doesn’t get out of hand.”
You could see the wheels turning in Thorin’s mind as he considered all the details, but the warmth in his eyes told you that he was already on board.
“We’ll need to start organizing the first meal immediately,” he said with a decisive tone. “But I trust that you three can handle it.”
Kili’s grin widened. “Leave the planning to us, Thorin. We’ll make sure it’s perfect.”
Bombur nodded, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “I’m already planning the first meal. I think it’s time for a good hearty stew!”
With that, the plan was set into motion. The following weeks saw preparations for the first of what would become a cherished annual tradition in Erebor. The dwarfs rallied together, offering their help, their food, and their time to make sure the dinners went smoothly. The younger dwarfs began their lessons in the kitchen, learning the art of cooking from Bombur and the rest of the team.
The dinners became more than just a meal—they were a symbol of unity and community, a place where the dwarfs of Erebor could come together to celebrate their strength and their connection to one another. And through it all, you, Kili, and Bombur worked side by side, proud of what you were building for the future of Erebor.
Fili and Thorin, though initially uncertain, couldn’t help but smile as the halls of Erebor filled with laughter, warmth, and the delicious aroma of a meal shared by all. The kingdom was alive with the spirit of family, and you knew, deep in your heart, that you had played a part in making Erebor a true home for everyone.
Kili has no sense of personal space. Reader doesn't mind as Erebor can get quite cold in the winter.
The halls of Erebor were always colder in winter, the great stone walls and cavernous spaces unable to fully hold onto the warmth of the forge fires. You’d learned to bundle up, wearing thick cloaks and layering furs to combat the chill. Still, some days were worse than others—especially when you were sitting in one of the less-trafficked areas of the mountain, waiting for Kili to finish whatever errand had caught his attention this time.
When he finally arrived, his dark hair dusted with snow and his grin as wide as ever, you sighed in mock exasperation. “Took you long enough. I was starting to freeze.”
“Freeze? Impossible!” Kili declared dramatically, dropping his bow and quiver as he plopped down beside you. “Not when you have me around.”
You raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan to stop me from freezing?”
Kili’s grin turned mischievous as he leaned in closer, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you firmly against his side. “Like this.”
“Kili!” you laughed, your protests half-hearted as the warmth of his body immediately seeped through your layers. “You can’t just grab people like that!”
“Sure I can,” he said cheerfully, leaning his head against yours as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re my best friend. This is what best friends do.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. If you were honest, you didn’t mind Kili’s lack of personal space—not when it meant you didn’t have to sit there shivering. He was like a living furnace, his body heat radiating so strongly you almost considered shedding one of your furs.
“You know,” you said, settling more comfortably against him, “most people would think this is a bit… much.”
Kili scoffed. “Most people are boring. Besides, it’s not like you’re complaining.”
“Not out loud,” you teased, smirking up at him.
“Ha! See?” Kili said triumphantly, giving your shoulder a playful squeeze. “You secretly love it. Admit it—I’m the only reason you survive winters here.”
You snorted. “You’ve got a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”
“I’m just stating facts,” he said, grinning. “Who else is going to keep you warm? Fili? He’s too busy brooding or pretending to be serious. Thorin? You’d have better luck hugging a rock. Nope, it’s me or nothing.”
“Guess I’m stuck with you, then,” you said, feigning resignation. But the truth was, you did feel lucky to have him. Kili’s warmth wasn’t just physical—it was in his laugh, his easy affection, and the way he always seemed to know how to cheer you up.
He leaned back against the wall, pulling you along with him until you were practically curled into his side. “See? Cozy, isn’t it?”
You sighed, letting yourself relax fully for the first time that day. “Fine. You win. But if you try to hog the blankets tonight, I’m kicking you out.”
Kili gasped in mock offense. “Me? Hog blankets? I’d never!”
“Uh-huh,” you said, smirking. “Just like you ‘never’ eat all the good snacks before I get to them?”
“That’s different,” Kili said with a grin. “Snacks don’t keep me warm. You do.”
For a moment, the teasing faded, and you caught a glimpse of something softer in his expression. But before you could say anything, he was back to his usual self, his grin as cheeky as ever.
“Now, quit your complaining and let me keep you from freezing to death,” he said, pulling you even closer.
You rolled your eyes again, but your smile lingered. Winter in Erebor might be cold, but with Kili around, it never felt quite so bad.
As the cold night air grew sharper, you and Kili made your way through the stone halls of Erebor, baskets of food still clutched in your hands. The warmth of the homes you had just visited lingered in your hearts, but as you walked through the mountain’s corridors, something caught your eye.
A small, dimly lit home tucked away near the deeper halls of Erebor had its fireplace barely crackling. The smoke lazily curled up into the chimney, but the fire didn’t seem to reach the hearth with the usual warmth it should. You noticed a similar pattern in a few other homes too—smoky air inside homes that should have been comfortably warm, the crackle of the fire barely audible. The dwarfs in these households would surely be cold, as their fireplaces were struggling to keep up with the winter chill.
You turned to Kili, who was walking beside you with a basket slung over his arm. “Kili, I think some of these fireplaces need fixing. The air around here is a bit too cold for comfort, don’t you think?”
Kili squinted toward the darkened homes, his expression thoughtful. “You’re right. These dwarfs need their fireplaces to work properly, especially with the cold creeping in from the mountains. It’s no use having a fire that won’t keep you warm.”
You both stood for a moment, the weight of the task settling in, before Kili looked at you with a spark of determination in his eyes. “Well, we can’t let them suffer. Let’s go grab the tools and head over there. We’ll fix these fireplaces ourselves.”
A warm feeling spread through you at his eagerness. “I’m with you, Kili. Let’s make sure everyone stays warm this winter.”
With the baskets of food placed aside, you and Kili gathered the necessary tools: chisels, small hammers, and some fresh stone material to mend the fireplaces. You knew Kili wasn’t afraid of hard work, and neither were you. It would take a bit of time and effort, but it would be worth it to see the dwarfs’ homes warm and comfortable again.
You made your way first to the home of an elderly couple, their fireplace barely holding onto a flame. The stone hearth was cracked in places, and the chimney had been clogged by debris, slowing the flow of heat. The elderly couple greeted you with gratitude, though there was a glint of concern in their eyes.
“Ah, it’s good to see you, Y/N, Kili,” the old dwarf woman said, her voice trembling slightly. “Our fire hasn’t been as strong as it used to be. We try to keep it going, but it’s just too much for us now.”
“Don’t worry, we’re here to help,” Kili said, his tone reassuring. He placed the tools down and knelt by the fireplace, gently assessing the damage. “We’ll have it fixed up in no time.”
You set to work as well, carefully inspecting the chimney for any blockages. The winter winds often caused debris to collect, and you suspected that was part of the issue. Kili, with his hands strong and steady, began chipping away at the cracks in the stone. You both worked efficiently, passing tools back and forth, the rhythmic sound of your efforts a quiet lull in the otherwise still room.
As you worked, the elderly couple watched you both with appreciative eyes, their faces softening with every motion. “Thank you,” the dwarf woman said again, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re both so kind. Not many would go out of their way like this.”
Kili grinned, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as he worked. “It’s just the right thing to do. We’re all family here. We take care of each other.”
It was simple, and yet, the sincerity in his voice filled the room with warmth. It was a quality you had always admired in Kili—his heart was open, and he believed wholeheartedly in the strength of community.
Once the fireplace was fully repaired and the chimney cleared, you and Kili helped them light a new fire. The warmth of the flames quickly spread through the room, chasing away the chill and bathing the couple’s home in a soft glow.
“There,” you said with a satisfied nod, stepping back. “That should do it.”
Kili wiped his hands on a rag, looking up at the elderly couple with a grin. “It’s our pleasure. Now, you can stay nice and warm through the winter.”
The elderly dwarf woman’s eyes shone with tears as she grasped your hands. “Thank you, thank you both. This means more than you know.”
The couple was overjoyed, and you could feel the weight in your heart lift as you stood back to watch the fire grow stronger, its warmth filling the room. The glow of the hearth now matched the warmth in their hearts, and you felt proud to have helped.
“We still have a few more homes to check, right?” Kili asked, his voice lighter now that this home was well taken care of. “Let’s keep going.”
Together, you and Kili continued on, going from home to home, fixing what you could, offering your time and your strength where it was needed most. Each home had its own set of challenges, but with Kili’s skill and your sharp eye for detail, you made quick work of the repairs. Each time you fixed a fireplace, the dwarfs’ faces lit up with gratitude, and each time, Kili’s heart swelled with a quiet pride. You weren’t just his friend anymore—you were partners in making Erebor a better place, one small act of kindness at a time.
By the time you had finished the last home, the air outside had grown even colder, but inside the stone halls, the warmth of the fires you’d rekindled filled the corridors like a comforting embrace.
“Good work today,” Kili said, his voice soft as you both leaned against the stone walls, exhausted but content. “It’s not about being the prince of Erebor, or the future queen. It’s about being there for the people who need it most.”
You smiled at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in your heart. “You’re right, Kili. You might not wear a crown, but you’ve already earned the respect and love of these dwarfs. And that’s what truly matters.”
The two of you stood in the quiet hallway, the echoes of your laughter and the warmth of the homes you had touched still lingering in the air. Though Erebor was vast and its stone halls often cold and intimidating, you knew that, together, you and Kili would always find a way to make it feel like home—for everyone.
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