Chapter One: The World Ahead
"The world was young, the mountains green," -Tolkien, Song of Durin
Fíli never remembers a time before his brother. Their mother, Dís , claims he spent five uneventful years as an only child, but Fíli's first memories start with the fat bundle of baby brother being placed into his tiny arms. Perhaps there had been thoughts and feelings before that point, but Fíli rather assumes it was the event of his brother's birth which forged his soul into being.
"Kíli. My brother." He likes the way his brother's name feels on his tongue- so similar to his own, and yet still so very different. "My Kíli." Whose dark hair contrasts with his own golden locks when he leans over the crib and allows the baby to grip both of their manes in his tiny fist.
It is amazing how quickly Kíli takes to getting in trouble. Even as an infant he somehow manages to wedge his leg into the spokes of the cradle, or to roll over with no idea how to right himself again. Oftentimes, while their mother is cooking dinner, Fíli plays with his brother- holding Kíli on his lap while the younger suckles happily on the collar of his coat. On one such occasion, Kíli pulls back with a snap, a shiny brass button situated between his lips.
"Kíli! No!" Fíli grabs the button before his brother can choke on it, though his heart feels as though it might beat out of his chest. Proud of himself, he turns to tell their mother, only to be met with an angry scream. Fat crocodile tears fall from Kíli's eyes as he tries to grab the button back from his brother and Fíli can only hold him close and comfort him until the tears stop. It is in those first months of his brother's life that Fíli learns what love is and vows to always protect and care for his brother.
...
The brothers grow, as boys tend to do, and before long Kíli is able to toddle after his brother on homespun adventures. Extra sweets are pilfered from cupboard tops, and tablecloths become capes and tents and all manners of wondrous things. They drive their mother to madness with their incessant questions and boundless energy, and though she treasures them more than gold, she occasionally leaves them in the care of her brother, Thorin, so that she can have a moments peace.
Thorin has no children of his own and very little idea of what to do with his sister-sons. He sits on the stoop with his pipe, watching the boys play pretend.
"Faster, Fee, faster!" Laughter fills the air as Fíli races around the yard, his tiny brother clinging wildly to his back.
"Hurry, Fee! We gotta catch the orcs! That way!" Fíli makes a sharp turn in the direction his brother points, only to trip over his own feet and send them both tumbling to the ground. Both boys roll across the grass in fits of giggles, coming to stop against the side of the house. Thorin raises a brow slightly at their choice of play, but says nothing.
"Now the orcs are gonna get away." Kíli pouts.
"Maybe... Or maybe they are in disguise!" Fíli looks around thoughtfully, then whispers: "Maybe Uncle Thorin is an orc!"
Kíli's eyes light up conspiratorially and he nods in excitement. They sneak quietly towards their uncle, who pretends not to hear the older boy shushing the younger one's giggles. Just as they reach Thorin, he turns suddenly and leaps at his nephews, who shriek and race off across the yard. Kíli's legs are shortest, and he is quickly caught and tickled mercilessly.
"Fee! Help! Uncle Thorin-orc has got me!"
At the sound of his brother's shrieks, Fíli turns and tackles his uncle, who tosses both boys over his shoulders and stands up.
"Now, where have Fíli and Kíli gotten to? I cannot find my sister-sons anywhere..." Thorin turns left, then right, pretending to look for the boys, who cling wildly to his back.
"Mahal help me, it appears they are lost. Whatever will I tell their mother?" Kíli cannot contain his excitement any long and knocks his small fist against his uncle's back.
"Here we are, Uncle Thorin! Here on your back!"
"And so you are!" Thorin smiles, depositing his sister-sons on the ground as the boys grin happily up at him.
This goes on for some time, the carefree play of youth, until both boys have twigs in their hair and mud on their knees. Dís returns home and calls them in for supper and baths and finally they are tucked side-by-side in bed as their uncle tells them stories of Erebor. Fíli loves these stories of mountains old and stays awake until the last word is spoken. Kíli sucks quietly at his thumb and falls asleep quickly, his fingers tucked into his brother's hair.
Reviews feed the muse! Right now my outline has this set at roughly 10 chapters... but that'll only happen if people seem to be enjoying the story.