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     "Thorin, Kili and I have decided we don't want a story tonight." Fili said.

     Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Have you finally decided you're too old for them?"

     Kili shook his head. "No, no one's too old for stories and true tales. We want to hear the song about the Misty Mountains."

     "Oh, a song. That song." Thorin said. "I'm still working on some of it. The last verse, actually."

     "Sing what you do have." Kili said.

     "Maybe we can help you with the rest." Fili suggested.

     "Alright. You ready?"

     Fili and Kili sat cross legged on the floor and nodded. "We're ready."

     Thorin began to sing, a faraway look in his eyes as he thought of the great kingdom of Erebor.

     "Far over the Misty Mountains Cold
      To dungeons deep and caverns old
      We must away ere break of day
      To seek the pale enchanted gold.

      The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
      While hammers fell like ringing bells
      In places deep, where dark things sleep,
      In hollow halls beneath the fells.

      For ancient king and Elvish lord
      There many a gleaming golden hoard
      They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
      To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

      On silver necklaces they strung
      The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
      The Dragon-fire, in twisted wire
      They meshed the light of moon and sun.

      Far over the Misty Mountains cold
      To dungeons deep and caverns old
      We must away, ere break of day,
      To claim our long-forgotten gold.

      Goblets they carved there for themselves
      And harps of gold; where no man delves
      There lay they long, and many a song
      Was sung unheard by Men or Elves.

      The pines were roaring on the height,
      The winds were moaning in the night.
      The fire was red, it flaming spread;
      The trees like torches blazed with light.

      The bells were ringing in the dale
      And men looked up with faces pale;
      Then Dragon's ire more fierce than fire
      Laid low their towers and houses frail.

      The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
      The Dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
      They fled their hall to dying fall
      Beneath his feet, beneath the moon."

     Thorin stopped singing and looked down at his nephews, who had almost fallen asleep to the enchanting melody. "What should come next? I feel it shouldn't end there, but I do not know what verse should come next."

     After thinking for a few seconds, Fili and Kili began singing in the same tune their uncle had. Fili's voice was kind of deep, and Kili's was a bit on the high side for a Dwarf.

     "Far over the Misty Mountains grim
      To dungeons deep and caverns dim
     We must away, ere break of day,
     To win our harps and gold from him!"

     Thorin went over the part they'd come up with in his head. He smiled softly. "Yes, I like that. I'm going to use that for the last verse."

     "Glad we could help." Kili said, standing up and stretching. He offered a hand up to Fili, who took it, and pulled him up.

     They two boys hugged Thorin. "Goodnight Uncle Thorin."

     "Goodnight Fili; goodnight Kili." Thorin answered, briefly hugging them back.

     Thorin left the room and the brothers climbed into their beds.

     "Goodnight Fili" Kili said.

     Fili yawned. "Goodnight Kili."

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