Saeril's hand trailed against Kili's hair, gently smoothing it out, and still trying to transfer some body heat to him. Her face was staring straight ahead, not looking at him. There was a grudge to be settled; Bolg nearly had him killed, and the Defiler's son will have a potential death coming. 

“I have had enough of this lippy lakeman." Dwalin snarled to his kin, his arms folded across his cheast. "I say we throw him over the side and be done with him.”
Bilbo turned towards Dwalin, shaking his head lightly. “Bard, his name’s Bard.”
Bofur blinked in surprise. “How do you know?” 
Bilbo sat down, still hugging himself for warmth. “Uh, I asked him.” Dwavres could be so infuriating.
Dwalin frowned, then moved towards Thorin. “I don’t care what he calls himself, I don’t like him.” 
Balin was busy counting what gold they had left. “We do not have to like him, we simply have to pay him. Come on now, lads, turn out your pockets.”
Hotheaded as ever, Dwalin remained skeptical. “How do we know he won’t betray us?”
Thorin glanced towards his nephews and Saeril, then back to tattooed dwarf. “We don’t.”
Balin counted once, then twice. Then three times. They hadn't enough. “There’s, um, just a problem: we’re ten coins short.”
Thorin instructed Gloin to give up what coin he had.

Nearby, Fili watched Saeril and Kili before him, as he sat with Yavanna, holding her hand. There was absolutely no jealousy evident on his features, and for his little brother's sake, he was sure to not cross in the middle of their close relationship. That didn't mean he loved them both any less, though. Their Delva was Kili's dream, and his muse; one of the people he came to deeply admire, growing up. The blonde held no ill-will in his devotion to his little brother, and his long-term goal was to take care of him, as well as always make him come first.