For Dwalin, it had started begrudgingly. He set off on this quest completely untied and happy, knowing the dwarves present and quite content with the fact that he wanted none of them, or to get to know any of them any better than he already did. He was fine swearing his allegiance to Thorin, his two nephews and his brother- and that was that really- none of the others he cared to mix with.

Some of them damn right got on his nerves.

Nori was one of them.

He knew of Nori, and had seen him a few times, but he hadn't had the fortune to sit and drink with him. He remembered vividly when Nori was dragged to him by a guard of the palace for allegedly possessing counterfeit silver and supplying it. He was just about to throw the dwarf into the dankest holding cell he could find in the Blue Mountains when Dori, had come running to him- flustered and with his immaculate and intricate hair out of place.

So... Nori was Dori's brother (he should have known by the names) and that complicated matters. Dori was a close acquaintance of Thorin's, and had standing in the royal court.

None too gently, he had thrown the dwarf down and spat to one side of him on the floor, telling him that if he ever laid eyes on him again there would be hell to pay.

And here he was, leaning back and sitting with him on the eve of a quest to reclaim Erebor.

Nori had risen to his feet as they had argued over Gandalf's claim of dragon killing, and had made the brash mistake of pulling out his fists in front of Dwalin, to which he responded likewise. Truth be told, he would have any excuse to thump Nori one. With his stupid hair, and his overwhelming air of arrogance which followed him incessantly like a bad smell.

That evening, Dwalin had sat in the parlour trying to close his ears to the conversation he was having with his littlest brother Ori, about his latest deeds (robbery, possession of black market goods in Ered Luin, and brawling) and how he'd avoided detection by flouting 'blockheaded' guards.

'Thick as two short planks they were!' he'd sneered, puffing on his pipe as Ori tittered.

Feeling his ire towards the dwarf's brazen disregard of anything lawful, Dwalin had thudded down the hallway to sit in the kitchen with Oin and Gloin- making an effort to connect eyes with Nori and give him his best glare on his way out.

Nori had winked back at him, and raised his mug.

It had stayed the same until they had been ambushed by trolls.

Unfortunately for Dwalin, some of what he'd assumed about Nori was wrong.

He was a fierce fighter- that much could be said- and a brutal one, too. Dwalin had assumed Nori was best at running away, slipping a concealed knife into a sleep man's throat, or poisoning and hiding the body. He had been quite surprised at Nori's hidden strength as he saw him wield his mace with utter ferocity against the trolls, and his adept fighting skills; his arm work and footwork precise and strong as he whirled the mace around to hit the knees of two of the trolls at the same time. He'd never seen Nori train or fight- nor his brothers- but they were all very good, even little Ori throwing himself around with just as much boyish recklessness as Kili.

They all got each other out of scrapes during that battle, but the times when Nori had come in with his mace and dagger at the nick of time to Dwalin's aid, had stuck in his mind. A nod of acknowledgement and of thanks, and they were off again.

A few minutes later, and still high on the buzz from the battle, Dwalin was the only one to laugh at the absurdity of being turned on a spit. He looked to his side and saw the only one with any coherency was Nori, looking up at him from by his feet with the same smirk on his face. He rolled his eyes and ginned at Dwalin.

'Well... at least it's half better than rotting in prison!' he said, upside down. Dwalin growled, but couldn't hide his own smile.

It was because of this new found respect that Dwalin only judged him a little bit for burying the gold in the troll cave. He didn't approve of Nori, Bofur and Gloin's actions- but said nothing. Nori at least he could understand. Bofur and Gloin he'd thought better of.

'I put in a nice gold cup for you as well, Dwalin,' he said, noticing the cold expression on his face. Dwalin raised his eyebrows and turned away at the sound of Thorin calling them back out. He'd almost corrected him to say 'mister Dwalin, to you'.

But something had stayed his tongue.

He guessed- he thought as he jogged along, once again chased by wargs (he'd got so used to them over the course of his eventful life that they no longer even phased him)- that he saw Nori in himself. Slightly.

Despite his hair (which took a surprisingly little amount of time to do in the mornings; not that Dwalin paid any attention), he was at home on the road, at ease in fights, and never complained about the weather or food, unlike Dori or even some of the older dwarves. He was also grateful (a habit that had worn off on him from Dori after all these years?)- and thanked Bombur for the cooking after every meal, which made the dwarf blush, and which made Dwalin smile to himself.

He was sure in himself, and spoke his mind openly, and though Dwalin knew of the rift between Dori and Ori and himself, he was touched at all the time he spent with his younger brother. Dwalin recognised the awe and respect in Ori's face when he looked on him; knowing that the same look must have been on his face when he sat at Balin's knee all those years ago. He knew that he respected Balin as a person for his loyalty, his manner and for his great (and everyday) deeds which he'd shown Dwalin... and that Ori must be the same.

After watching Ori and Nori with each other for a while, he began to wonder what else Nori had shown his brother apart from his extensive knowledge of illegal activities. Affection clearly was there, and it was proudly on display, but there was also a guidance and coaxing of Ori's hidden warrior, and an acceptance of Ori's love of books and learning- something he felt Nori wasn't and would never be interested in. He saw him listening with diligence at something Ori was going on about and pointing to in one of his books, and then Nori was leaning in and talking to Ori about what it was he was showing him.

'He's a good lad is Nori,' Dori said from above him. Dwalin bade him to sit beside him, and offered him a light for his pipe.

'I've always thought he was a... well... ruffian,' Dwalin said, a little guiltily, as he saw Ori rocking in laughter from something Nori had said, and Nori diving at him to playfully tackle him to the ground.

'Oh aye he is! But that's all people see... they never see the good- they never see how good he is with Ori and our mum,' sighed Dori. He went quiet, and Dwalin didn't press the matter. Then Dori spoke again, and his voice was hushed.

'I didn't see him for years until he came home when she started to get ill. He's always been there- even if he's been away, he always comes back and spends time with her and Ori. He don't like reading much, but he reads to Ori, and listens to him talk about the things he likes- stories and history and whatnot. Gave him his wee slingshot out of the blue one day. Happiest I've ever seen Ori-' he broke off, emotion filling his voice, and was quiet again, sucking in on his pipe to steady himself.

Dwalin continued to stare out over the campfire as Nori came up for air after a well placed blow from his younger brother, his silly hair all over his head and tunic messed up. He never realised or even thought about Nori as a kind person, a diligent and thoughtful teacher... almost Balin-like in his care for Ori.

A thick lump stuck in his throat.

He turned away, thankful for the shadows across his face.

When they were captured by orcs, Nori had fought behind him- with as much speed passion as he'd always displayed.

And when they were crushed by falling masonry and the huge corpse of the Goblin King (seriously, had someone had this planned?) his arms had, strangely, gone straight to him.

Not to Thorin, or Balin, but to Nori.

Dwalin told himself that this was because he was easily in reach, and obviously hurt, and not because at that moment, it was him his mind had gone to first.

He lifted Nori and braced him as he caught his breath, frowning as he saw him obviously not all together there, and a trickled of blood coming down his temple.

'It'll be alright- just, just take it easy...' he'd muttered as he helped him up straight, somehow unable to think clearly as he felt Nori's warm breath against his cheek.

Then they'd had to run, and Nori grit through the pain, keeping up until he collapsed outside.

'Got knocked on me 'ead. Just dizzy now- by Durin's breath I'm such an idiot,' he'd said with a slight chuckle to the concerned dwarf who'd bent down to him.

As they walked through the trees together, for now out of harm's way, Dwalin could still feel the weight of him in his arms, holding him to his chest. And something he'd not felt for a long time sparked within him, grasping him and locking him, until he was dizzy too. Or maybe short of breath due to the pounding his lungs were taking from his heart for some reason. He'd be fine with some ale and a rest.

He looked beside him to Nori, and saw the quick flick of Nori's hair as he turned away from him. Had be been staring at him?

'Dwalin?'

'Aye?' he replied, not daring to look beside him anymore or even entertain the idea-

'Thanks for helping me back there,' said Nori, with a small, shy smile.

Shyness was something neither of them had displayed.

''Twas nothing, it's just what friends do-' he stopped short, picking up his stride now they were at the back of the pack.

'But Thorin was saying your name, and you went to me instead-'

Dwalin whipped around, noting the smile on Nori's face had grown into something more sure of itself- a little bit cocky.

'He- he did? I didn't hear him!' said Dwalin, suddenly worried for his friend.

'Don't get your breeches in a twist, he's fine, but... you went to me first. That was nice of you,' said Nori chirpily, and sauntered on ahead with a backwards glance at the other dwarf.

As fate would have it, wargs had followed them as the evening grew on.

Wargs and orcs, more of them than they'd anticipated. With the great Azog riding at the host's head. Dwalin groaned and cursed their luck as they sped into the fir trees, desperately making for the tallest ones they could find at Gandalf's bidding.

'Dwalin, over here!' Nori called to him, and Dwalin ran over, automatically helping him before himself, then clambering after him.

The tree rocked as the wargs hit it like a battering ram hitting a flimsy cottage, and Dwalin could feel the tree creaking, breaking-

'JUMP!' he screamed as it toppled, but Nori was already there, having leapt deftly into the other tree's branches.

He caught Dwalin as he landed, a little ungainly, bristles and pine cones hitting him in the face.

Again, with Nori's arms around him, clutching him at the waist, Dwalin felt the leap within his heart-

Nori looked into his face, and brushed pine needles from his jacket- perhaps in Dwalin's imagination his hands lingering a little too long on him.

They faced death together that night for the second time... third time? Fourth time? But it was only here when Dwalin had lost all hope, as the great beasts had encircled them, and Thorin lay wounded beyond anyone's knowledge. He felt Nori's hand clutch his in the tree which had now fallen, holding him tight. His fingers entwined his, and Dwalin lost all focus on the wargs, or the incredible heat from the fires threatening to de-beard him.

'Dwalin- we're going to die...'

But again, Gandalf's cunning had spared them, and birds as big as baby dragons came out of the inky sky, each picking a dwarf or a warg and dealing with them accordingly.

Dwalin and Nori were still holding hands when their eagle came, and it picked them up on its back together.

'I don't like heights... never have... and this is the worst,' Nori whispered (and to be fair, Dwalin didn't think much of this either). But he could tell Nori was smiling against his chest; he could feel his grin of relief and hope- and he could feel, almost in shock, as Nori's fingers played in his beard, gently reaching up for his chin...

And there, on the back of the eagle, was when it had really started.