AN: Well, hello there! I know you're expecting huntressofartemis101 but unfortunately, as she has stated in her last author's note for this story, she has recently been under a lot of stress, so she's not going to be continuing 'You Don't Know What You Have Until It's Gone'. That was the previous name for this story, but I changed it. :P So, here's the chapter she wrote, and the second one is in the works. Enjoy!
Fili and Kili, sons of Dis, Heirs of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the mountain, and inseparable until the day they die. Sounds like quite a title, right? Especially that last part. Not even Mahal himself could separate those two. Where one went, the other would always follow. They were one mind, and two souls forged into one. But it was not always this way, dear reader. Oh, not at all. There was once a time when the sons of Durin absolutely loathed each other. ….You do not believe me? Well, I can see why. Perhaps a small story is in order. Now, where shall I begin? Oh, what was that Bofur? Ah, yes I do believe that was indeed the day things started changing.
It was a quiet midsummer day, I believe. One could hear the hammers pounding in the forge that sat in the square of Ered Luin. Everyone was going about their business, men and dwarves mingling in the street market.
"Kili! You come back here, you little devil!" Two blurs zipped through the streets of Ered Luin, upsetting vendors and dashing through crowds. This was a daily occurrence, and most of the townspeople were fairly used to it by now.
The two blurs; one gold and one so dark it was almost black; were Fili, son of Dis and nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, and his younger brother Kili. Fili was the gold one. He was at the age of fifteen summers, about the mental age of a thirteen year old human. Kili was approaching the age of fifteen summers himself, which was about the age of a ten year old human. He, of course, was the darker blur; his hair so brown, that in the gleam of the sun or a candle, it was the inky black of a shadow. Fili barreled after his smaller, lither little brother and finally caught up with him in the center of the city square, right in front of the forge his uncle was working at. He tackled Kili to the ground, and started pummeling him.
"I give!" Kili shouted, raising his fists to block the punches. Fili wasn't hitting his brother very hard, but Kili had always been a small, sickly child, always hiding in the shadows. "St'p a'ready! I 'aid I g've!"
"Where'd you hide it? Huh you little whelp? Where 'id you put it?" Fili was sitting on Kili's chest now, hands around his throat.
"I 'old you, I di'n't take it! Lemme go!" The boys kept this up for a few minutes, people hardly casting them a glance (they were already very used to this sight), until two rough, scarred hand grabbed each by the scruff of their necks and pulled them apart. Fili looked at the hand gripping his shoulder and gulped. He knew that hand. It had raised him from the time he was barely four, when his father had died. His eyes looked up the thick arm, over the broad shoulder, and into the gleaming eyes of his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield.