The waiting list for the highly expensive and completely elite summer camp was extensive. Some families had put their names forward when their infants were first named. The best of the best. However, some families had names so old and revered that they could call up last minute and find a place had magically opened up for their young scions.
Lord Elrond Peredhel frowned thoughtfully, drumming his fingers in slight frustration upon his antique mahogany desk. "My good Gandalf, surely this is a duplicated application?"
"So I thought as well." The headmaster of the camp bowed his head very slightly to the head of the board of trustees. "Fili Durinson. Kili Durinson. A mistake of the keyboard somewhere. One child, not two."
"Indeed." Sniffed the British peer, not so much in a haughty manner but in a way that clearly showed elegant breeding and a thoughtful personality.
Gandalf Graymane, whose name lived up to his rather unorthodox appearance, smiled benignly. He dressed simply and for function, his long gray hair could do with some styling, and with his walking stick he looked almost elderly. Until you peered into his eyes. Ever present youth and vigor dwelled there. Someone who would never be old, no matter what date showed on their birth certificate. "So of course I looked into it."
Lord Elrond gave a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement. His headmaster may look a bit on the shaggy side, but no detail ever escaped his notice. The man was simply brilliant and every year other organizations kept trying to lure him away. Elrond wasn't even sure what it was that kept Gandalf with them. He was merely grateful. "Of course."
"One is sixteen, the other fourteen. One lives in London and the other in Las Angeles, at least some of the time. Definitely two different persons."
The camp trustee frowned slightly. "A coincidence with the names then?"
Headmaster Gandalf shrugged and looked a bit smug. "Not ….quite."
Elrond's left eyebrow arched delicately upwards in mute question.
The gray haired male smiled. "Young Fili usually summers in Greece or France with family. He's the elder. Even younger Kili typically spends his summers in Montana and Colorado. An outdoorsy sort of family."
"And this year they want to attend our camp? Why?" Queried the trustee, peering uncertainly down at the two applications. A blond and a brunet. No obvious physical similarity, but the features were related nonetheless. Despite their coloring, the two favored each other quite a bit.
"As for Fili, I am unsure. The family says they want him to attend our camp in order to expand his horizons." Gandalf shook his head kindly. "Reading between the lines I got the impression that the family needed him out of the way for the summer. Keep him out of trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" Elrond asked, instantly alert.
Gandalf merely shrugged. "Not of his making that I could find. Family trouble. "Erebor. He is the heir of Thorin."
The trustee sucked in a harsh breath, nodding. He understood all too well now.
"My take on the situation is they didn't want young Fili to be a target of any kind." Gandalf continued.
The British peer nodded. That kind of trouble was in his wheelhouse. Youngsters of certain elite names were always a target for the unscrupulous. "He will be sheltered well here, then."
"Indeed." Gandalf agreed. "As for younger Kili, well." Here he gave a rueful grin. "He was a last minute addition to our camp roster. His uncle made a quite generous donation."
Elrond frowned and moved some papers around on his desk. When he arrived at the number his eyes widened and he shot his headmaster an incredulous look. "Money doesn't pull weight around here."
Gandalf nodded. "I was going to turn the gift away. But did a little looking into the situation. Kili is …" He stopped and spread his hands. "He needs us."
Lord Elrond paused in his reading, looking up at that particular tone of voice. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers as he studied his headmaster. "He needs us?" He invited an explanation.
Gandalf did not indulge him, but merely gave a wavering smile and a wink.
"Oh dear." Elrond breathed out helplessly. It didn't happen often, but at times over the years Gandalf had taken on a camper for no reason that he'd ever given. Merely stating that the youth was in 'need'. "The last time you said that I ended up adopting a young son."
"Aragorn is doing well?" Gandalf asked most politely, although he knew the answer already.
"He is brilliant at his studies and thrives." Elrond smiled deeply, truly proud of the newest addition to his family. "The twins have opened a new business venture that is exceeding expectations and Arwen is getting ready to graduate with honors."
Gandalf smiled with pride. He and Elrond were long-time friends as well as employer and employee.
The British peer picked up Kili's application and gave his headmaster a suspicious look. "Am I to end up adopting this one as well?" He only half-way joked, still unsure how he'd ended up taking in Aragorn. Although it was a decision he'd never regretted.
Gandalf's face fell into stern lines as he immediately shook his head. "No, no. His family is large and yet quite loving from what I can gather."
"But he …needs us?" Elrond probed.
"Indeed." The headmaster acknowledged, but didn't expand on his explanation.
"Trouble?" The trustee sighed, knowing already that he would be giving in to this man whom he trusted so completely.
Gandalf pursed his lips. "No more so than any other fourteen year old, I believe."
Elrond's left eye twitched slightly. "I have raised four past the age of fourteen. I know that there is no such thing as a 'normal' teenager, nor is the amount of trouble they can find so small."
The gray haired headmaster bowed his head toward his friend and employer.
The peer sighed heavily. "You still have not explained why you are accepting both boys without interview, nor why they are so similar in name."
"I have not explained a great many things." Gandalf said with a secretive smile and bowed his head again as he moved to the door. Then he dropped his ace in the hole. "Lady Galadriel has already directed acceptance letters to be sent out."
Lord Elrond watched with sadly complacent eyes. He wasn't going to get an explanation. Not yet. It would irritate him more if it weren't for the fact that Gandalf was very rarely wrong. Add to that the fact that Galadriel was also on the other side of this question, and he was left unsure and wondering. But without much recourse. To himself he mentally shook his head and looked down at the applications before him. "Welcome to Camp Imladris." His eyes slid from picture to picture. "If these two aren't related in some way, I'd eat my hat."
From the door, Gandalf paused. "I think your hat may be safe for yet one more summer, my friend."
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Thorin seemed annoyed.
Fili shifted his weight silently, but never leaving his center of balance uneven. Even if Dwalin didn't appear to be watching him, he'd found this particular cousin to be quite attentive to the smallest details. He started to think about giving a small cough, to let the adults know he'd entered the study.
"Damn him!" Thorin muttered, striking through some phrases or words on a document he was reading.
Definitely annoyed, Fili mused. He wondered if this was Smaug or Thranduil business. Both were an irritant to his uncle, though if it were Smaug there'd be more hatred and curse words involved. Probably their neighbor Thanduil then.
"Who does this Peredhel think he is?"
Fili's blue eyes widened a bit. Peredhel? New name to him.
"Thinks he's a peer. It's Lord Elrond Peredhel." Dwalin pointed out in his usual bored voice when business was about things that didn't involve returning to Erebor. "He's not in exile."
Like we are. Fili thought to himself. Though he himself had only seen old pictures of their one-time home.
Fili let his eyes roam over his uncle's well-appointed library, seeing the old tapestries from a kingdom they didn't reside in anymore. Not that he himself ever had, he was too young for memories of Erebor. He knew the stories, of course. Political coup. Deposing the rightful heir. By Smaug. King Smaug of the small, but rich, island nation of Erebor.
His uncle Thorin was the rightful ruler, now that his grandfather and father had passed. Possibly assassinated. But Smaug had control. In a world that was weary of wars and unwilling to help depose someone just because it was right. It was 1955 and the world was just overcoming many of the wounds caused by WWII and Korea.
Rumbles were coming out of Indochina now. Europe was nervous. The Soviet Union and eight communist bloc countries had just signed the Warsaw Pact not even a month ago.
No one cared about a relatively small island nation and its mountains, no matter how rich. Or about the deposed royal family. Smaug was king now, and Erebor had gone quiet. Quiet was good as far as the rest of the world was concerned.
"Fili."
His attention snapped back to his uncle, blue eyes watched cautiously.
"You need to pack for camp." Dwalin said, his eyes scanning some papers with a scary intensity.
Thorin grunted and Fili hesitated. "Uncle?" Camp? He knew the word from movies and books, but not personal experience. His summers were usually spent with family. He only started private school a few years ago anyway, having been taught by personal tutors for his early years.
"Thorin. Our resources are stretched. We can hire bodyguards, but I don't know them. Strangers, no matter how well vetted." Dwalin finally looked up, a fierce look in his warrior's eyes. "Camp Imladris has an excellent reputation for security. Very private, very elite."
The former prince from Erebor scowled, looking torn. "Still strangers." He commented.
Camp? Fili had never considered the possibility before. It would be better than skiing in Switzerland with his cousins and their loyal friends. All older than he. Not without fun, but the opportunity to be a normal teenager for once in his life seemed out of his reach. His fingers twitched and he deliberately stilled them, taking a deep cleansing breath.
Dwalin sighed. "I've been over the schematics and procedures that Peredhel sent. Seems quite well protected. Even has mystical barriers. Top notch at that."
Thorin made a face, but did not seem to be rejecting the possibility out of hand. "He won't allow me to add our own security."
Dwalin nodded. "I hate that too. But in Lord Peredhel's place, neither would I allow such a thing."
"Add security?" Fili's attention became hung up on those words. "Why?"
Thorin sighed and faced his heir. "There have been rumors of threats. I did not want to worry you."
"From Smaug?" He was never referred as King Smaug, not in this house.
Dwalin frowned deeply, his brow furrowing. "Mordor."
Fili looked shocked.
Thorin nodded carefully. "Erebor remains silent. But has allowed Mordor to house troops on the island. Not encroaching on the mountain, but still. On our island."
If Indochina made Europe nervous, Mordor made their skin crawl. "Does this mean we will be gaining allies?" The U.S., Britain, France, or anyone.
"No." Snapped Thorin angrily, but not at Fili. He shook his head. "Not yet. All I hear is 'not yet'. As long as Smaug remains quiet and makes no move to expand beyond Erebor the world is content to allow that deposer to inhabit the mountain."
"But with Mordor …" Fili let his voice trail off hopefully.
Dwalin shook his head, his fierce gaze heavy upon the crown prince of a non-existent throne. "Right now it's still confined to the island. Some are more willing to listen now, but will take no actions. Not yet."
The young blond teenager sighed and fidgeted a bit, then shook his head. "I don't get what this has to do with going to a camp for the summer."
Thorin waked over to his nephew, resting his hands on the lad's shoulders. "Fili. This camp is highly secure."
He got it. Suddenly the light went on in his head. "You're quarantining me for the summer!" Fili sounded appalled and disappointed.
Thorin chuckled. "I'm putting you somewhere safe. That is also fun and comes with a lengthy list of activities."
"Not only that, but you'll be networking with youth from some of the finest families in Europe and America." Dwalin pointed out.
"And fun." Thorin reiterated.
"And fun." The words fairly dripped like poison from Dwalin's lips.
It didn't sound fun to Fili. It sounded like a pretty prison. Unless. "Is it co-ed?"
"No." Dwalin said absently.
Fili sighed unhappily.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"Camp?" Kili made a face at his Uncle Frerin. "No."
"You'll enjoy yourself." The sunny blond grinned and rumpled the irritated brunet's loose hair. "You didn't braid it."
"My teachers want me to cut it."
Frerin immediately frowned and shot a glance at his advisor, Balin. That worthy pursed his lips and shook his head. "We're from Erebor. Hair is a cultural prerogative of our line, important."
Kili rolled his expressive dark eyes. "They know. But we had a substitute for math and she called me a girl. The class all laughed."
Frerin laughed too, which didn't help much.
Kili scowled and pulled away, pushing his long wavy hair behind his ears. "Braids would only make me look more like a girl."
"Or a warrior of Erebor." Balin replied calmly.
"It's 1955 America. Not Erebor." Kili shook his hair, feeling it whip around his face. "My passport reads that I'm American, not from Erebor."
Hearing this made his uncle look sad and Kili was immediately apologetic. "I didn't mean that I'm not proud to be of Erebor." The young teen hurried to say.
"It's alright laddie." Balin replied with resignation. "We know you don't mean it. But please, no more talk of cutting your hair."
"I promise." Kili sat up straighter. "And I don't really want to cut it, I'm even trying hard to grow out my beard. It's just difficult to fit in at school with all the buzz cuts."
Frerin frowned rather thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should rethink your schooling."
Kili shrugged. He didn't really care. Unless … He glanced up quickly. "Can I go to school in L.A.?"
"No." Frerin and Balin said in unison.
The young brunet sighed, but had really expected that answer. His uncle was a stickler for security and L.A. was too big, too exposed. Isolated ranches in Montana and Colorado were much easier to contain.
Not that Smaug had ever made a move against him as far as Kili knew. "Los Angeles would be fun, if I ever got to see it."
"You live there." Balin said absolutely.
"Says you." Kili groused as he lounged in his seat, legs resting over the side of the chair's arm rest and kicking at the air. "All I get to see is the inside of the house. You don't even bring in any stars."
"They're just people." Frerin, the movie producer, said fondly. "Not someone as special as a prince like you."
Kili's eyebrows rose. Prince? Of a land he'd never set eyes on. And not even a throne he was technically in line for. There was his uncle Thorin out in Europe somewhere, and whom he'd never met. "Yeah, third in line. Behind a man you haven't spoken to in over a decade and you."
A shared look between Balin and Frerin had Kili closing his eyes in resignation. "Technically not third."
Frerin shot Balin an accusing look, but the white bearded advisor refused to meet his eyes.
Kili's head popped up in curiosity. "Thorin, Frerin, and then …not me?"
Balin sighed and finally met Frerin's hard gaze and nodded. "It's complicated. But Thorin has named his own line of succession."
Ah. Kili immediately lost interest. "So what's this about a camp and why do I want to go?"
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
A/N: Plot bunnies attacked me. It's the only explanation. Technically this has a "Parent Trap" set-up, but I don't count it as a cross-over as it will not be following the movie much beyond the broad outline in the beginning. A few notes. There will be some magic in this world, which is 1955 modern AU - but no major magics. I have broken canon into teeny tiny pieces and I'm not even that sorry. If you find me vague on the geographic location of Mordor, Erebor and Camp Imladris it is on purpose.
For those who want to know, in London with Thorin will be: Fili, Dwalin, Nori, Oin, Bofur, as well as Thranduil, Legolas, and Tauriel. In America with Frerin will be: Kili, Dori, Balin, Gloin, Bombur, Ori and Bifer. No, I will not tell you where Bilbo is. Yet. :P
