Tillis and Var are utterly in love with them. They’d forgive them anything. Ever. They laugh at their pranks, sigh fondly at their mischief. Tillis fusses over Fili and tries to lessen his self-appointed guardianship and responsibilities, and Var jokes and tussles about with Kili.

Hrera huffs quite a bit. She pretends utter horror over Kili’s hair, but actually adores getting her paws on him and combing it. It’s such fine hair, why does he never take decent care of it? He’s nearly as bad as that Gimli. Such disarray. Tch.

She is hugely proud of both of them, but will not take any of their ‘nonsense’ as she calls it. She is not above resorting to bribes to get them to behave around her (Broadbeam Dumpling Soup, oh yes!). Now and then she wonders how stern, steely-eyed Dis ever produced such ruffians – and then she glances at merry-faced, laughing Vili, and wonders no more.

Thror is a constant but unobtrusive presence for both the boys. They were very apprehensive at first: Thror is a mighty figure, and everything he did, both the good and the bad, changed the face of the world forever. But this quiet, self-deprecating Dwarrow with the sad eyes isn’t quite what they were expecting. Thror provides a quiet haven for them. He loves them dearly, and wishes he could have seen them grow up, grow old.

Frerin – well <3. Frerin at first resents the heck out of them. He waited so long for his brother, so so long. And these two Dwarrows (and Thorin turns to them before he turns to Frerin, that is unfair) are who Thorin thinks of before anyone else. They are taller than him, and older than him, and will not call him uncle. He doesn’t know where he fits in. He doesn’t know his role for a long time. This time is investigated in more depth in Twelve Months and Fifty Years.

Eventually, as we see, Frerin connects with his brother again. He finds his place in Thorin’s life (death?) again. And he discovers that he and Fili have a lot more in common than their similar looks. Fili becomes a mentor and a sounding-board for Frerin, and Frerin becomes Fili’s ‘little uncle’. Frerin will eventually find a connection with Kili as well.

Fris is carefully mothering of the lads. When she looks at them, she sees her little girl, her Dis, her sweet sparrow. She sees Dis in the set of Fili’s chin, in the flash of Kili’s dark eyes. She is careful not to usurp that place, however. She (Fris is an instrument-maker) brings her lap-harp or her gittern along when they drag out their fiddles, and they play together. She makes sure that Fili eats, and that Kili does not sulk (Fris is good at stopping people from sulking – plenty of practice!).

Thrain, on his good days, is an amused observer of the boys. He comments now and then, but doesn’t really step in to chastise them or curtail their antics. He leaves that to Thorin or Hrera. He finds them hilarious. He’s warm and totally nonjudgmental, and so the boys both find it very easy to confide in him – to complain, or to speak about difficult things. Thrain is a good listener, and will always put down his tools and get out a jug of ale to sit with them as they whine or exclaim or groan.