The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills as Thorin’s company paused to set up camp for the evening. The dwarves busied themselves with their respective tasks—Dwalin and Gloin were inspecting their weapons, Bombur was already stirring something in the pot, and Bilbo sat to the side, looking rather overwhelmed as he tried to clean the dirt from his clothes. Gandalf stood a short distance away, his watchful gaze occasionally drifting to you, as if gauging your presence among the group.

Kíli, on the other hand, wasn’t one for quiet observation. Sitting cross-legged not far from the fire, his bow balanced across his knees, he couldn’t seem to stop glancing in your direction. His curiosity had been palpable since the start of the journey, his dark brown eyes brimming with interest and excitement.

After a moment, he couldn’t help himself. "So," he called out, his youthful voice cutting through the chatter of the camp. "What’s it like? Your world, I mean. Is it very different from ours?" He tilted his head, his grin both boyish and inviting. "Don’t tell me you don’t have dragons there. That’d be a shame."

Thorin shot him a warning look from across the camp. "Kíli, leave them be. They’re not here to satisfy your endless questions."

"Oh, come now, uncle!" Kíli replied, waving off Thorin’s gruff tone with a laugh. "We’ve got weeks ahead of us on this journey—I might as well get to know our newest companion." His eyes flicked back to you, warm and encouraging. "Don’t mind Thorin," he added in a quieter voice. "He always looks grumpy when we’ve been walking all day. You’ll get used to it."