I'm really happy with the way this turned out, even if it is a bit scatterbrained at times :3 More notes at the bottom!
(Ivon is Sindarin for the Valar Yavanna, I didn't want to call her Yavanna because that's her Quenyan name; sadly we don't know what any of the other Valar's names are in Khuzdul besides Aule/Mahal :T)
The company had taken the most direct route east out of the Shire, passing through a dainty little place called Bywater, well cultivated and cherished as the dwarves could clearly tell by the unnecessary intricacy of a round number of gardens dotted absolutely everyplace imaginable; then on beside a small stinky marshland area — the name of which never reached the youngsters' ears; and then on directly to Bree, where they rested for the night. Not bad for the first day of their journey.
The young lion prince kept going back to those Bywater gardens and the creatures that inhabited them. After their first night with a hobbit, the poor rabbit didn't seem fun at all. The burglar was definitely going to empty every flagon of ale he could find, Fili was sure of it. What a sour little berry.
But Fili's mind was not on the burglar; oh no, it was on that flower. That one flower, standing tall and bright and surprisingly quiet. Hobbit gardens were truly an . . . interesting predicament. Fili, being a dwarve and therefore not very fond of living things (as Mahal made them to be), found perplexing beauty in certain blossoms of those Bywater gardens. A few even reminded him of the jewels his line cherished so.
There were a few with hundreds of petals, those complex, boring things you expected to see in any garden. Hobbits in general tended to be very hard to understand, so hard in fact it was difficult to have a good time with them.
There were those short, plain, popular blooms you actually did see in every garden. Most hobbits tended to look the same, they all got lost in the fray. At least with dwarves, one could have a variety. Not necessarily true when it came to the furry-footed burglars, Fili found. All were beardless, had feet and ears like a hare, so quiet they were!
The only generally good fact about the creatures was that they laughed heartily — but at all the wrong things! They laughed about youngins being caught with their paws in the cookie jar, a miscounting of spoons — oh the spoons! what is it with hobbits and spoons?! —, a comrade falling into The Water on a recent fishing trip.
Those aren't things to laugh about! Fili thought to himself.
Every time he found himself bickering over hobbits and their complicated ways, though, he always kept wandering back to that single solitary flower. Her petals were dull, her pollen-gold bird's nest the same as most other hobbits', her eyes bright and cheery; she was a regular pebble in a bucket full of stones — but oh! how beautiful she was to him.
He'd hardly even laid eyes on her and yet the lion prince realized he could not get her out of his mind. He wished to crown her with jewels, tame that wild bird's nest atop her head, compare her simple beauty to that of the Arkenstone, a gem Fili had only heard great tales of.
He — fortunately — had not yet been born when the Great Worm came down from the north, and he heard his mother sing those praises everyday of his life.
That flower, what was her mother like? Fili wondered. They'd personally run into no female hobbits on their journey through the Shire. Were they all worry warts like the burglar? Were they sweet globs of honey? Were they feisty little hobgoblins like every dwarrowdam the lion prince had encountered? Did they frown on all that wasn't polite and proper? Fili made a mental note to ask the burglar once they got more aquainted.
The prince tossed in his bed, unable to take her off his mind. Maybe the burglar knew her? Hobbits seemed to have their nose in everything that went in around them. Maybe she was his niece, or one of his numerous cousins, or a cousin of his cousin; he'd heard the burglar had quite a few relations in that area.
There was one thing Fili declared that night, one thing that was much too true: hobbits were too darn complicated.
Somehow he'd managed to fall asleep afterwards, and awoke to Master Bombur prodding him gently with his swollen fingers. "Rise and shine, Your Goldenness." the red-bearded dwarve chuckled.
"His Goldenness" rose with a smirk and a wipe of his sapphire eyes. "What's for breakfast Master Bombur?" he asked with a warm-hearted simper, trying to block the new sunlight streaming in from the window. It was early, much too early.
Master Bombur grinned beneath his moustache. The dwarrow produced two tough strips of dried meat, things that looked and tasted more like sandstone than an animal. As the prince nearly broke his teeth on one of them, the cook explained, "Best be saving things like this for the road. Care to help me go fetch something a little fresher?"
Fili was more than glad to leave the crowded room, even if the thought was much easier than figuring out where to step so as to not wake anybody. Dwarvish boots aren't exactly the quietest of footwear. Upon reaching the door, Fili turned and wondered if he should wake Kili. The dark-haired prince was sleeping soundly, sprawled out on the bed as was his usual position. Fili decided against it, joining Master Bombur and apparently Master Bofur outside. The miner was sitting happily, smoking his new hobbit's weed and telling his brother how much the sunrise meant to him.
The prince didn't get to hear most of the tale, much to his sorrow: Master Bombur wanted to get out and along and back again before all the Big Folk meandered out onto the lane.
The smartest thing Bombur did that day was the first thing he did. He ran to the marketplace, Fili close on his tail, and tossed the young prince an apple and the woman at the stand a coin or two. The lion prince laughed heartily; Bombur sure did know him well. The rest of that hour of the morning was spent buying a whole assortment of meats and spices and even a few "special requests" (Bombur loved to spoil the little dwarve, that was sure). By the time they returned Master Bofur was still outside smoking and Kili was still sprawled about sleeping like a dragon, but the others were stirring. Master Bifur had disappeared to who knew were; Uncle Thorin was speaking quietly with Masters Gloin, Balin, and Dwalin; Masters Dori and Ori were making tea; Master Oin was quietly making sure he had every herb that he couldn't get when they were all out and about in the wild; and the wizard and burglar were nowhere to be seen.
Bombur shoed Dori and Ori away from the hearth, demanding that their tea could wait, and plopped most of the meat in a huge pan produced from a place that was anyone's guess. Fili quickly stashed his goodies in the secret places in his pack before quietly taking off his boots and tiptoeing over to the bed on which Kili was sprawled. He loved it when Kili slept in.
Thorin barely needed to glance over to know the shouts belonged to his nephew. Fili'd jumped him again. Ugh, when would the youngster learn.
The two prince's had actually just fallen off the bed, creating such a huge ruckus that the whole inn shook. Thorin didn't intervene in the first place, he sure wasn't going to intervene when Fili ran for cover under a bed and Kili started jumping on said bed to try and smoke his brother out, and he wasn't going to intervene when the two charged out into the street in a tumble, rolling all over and stopping just before they landed in a puddle of mud. Dirty furs were no use against the cold and the snow and the rain that they would undoubtedly run into. Kili was chased back inside by Fili and the two immediately pushed two beds together and hid underneath, giggling about their silly antics.
The king rolled his eyes at the carelessness he saw in his heirs. He was handed his plate by Bombur with a bow and a gracious "My liege."
"Did your children ever grow out of this, Bombur?" the king asked quietly as his nephews struggled to free themselves at the smell of fresh meat.
Bombur raised his bushy brows and shook his head, demeanor playful and smirk entirely hidden by the biscuit in his mouth, plopping an extra sausage or two on Thorin's plate.
The king contained his smirk and commanded, "Fili! Kili!"
The lion prince hopped to his feet immediately, his little brother half exposed from his lowly prison.
"You two will see to the ponies before you partake in some of Master Bombur's excellent breakfast."
He didn't need to ask if they understood. The two princes knew quite well why they had to "check on the ponies," even if everyone knew Thorin had already seen to them himself.
Thorin walked outside, taking a seat next to Master Balin with his breakfast and observed his nephews as they continued their romp on their way to see to the ponies. Maybe they'd grow out of it. Frerin never really did. Deep down he was always itching for a good fight, especially with his elder brother. Frerin always knew how to braid Thorin's beard the wrong way. The king saw a lot of his brother in the boys, actually, and wondered how that could be, considering he'd passed shortly before Fili was born.
As invested as Fili was in munching his apple or tackling his little brother or making sure Minty's coat was brushed exactly twice or letting Master Bifur braid some assorted wildflowers into his hair because the older dwarrow absolutely insisted, his mind still wandered. Did his flower like her apples red like her cheeks or green like her eyes or gold like her curls? Were her battles with her siblings ones of words or of actions? Was her family large? Did they enjoy ale or wine? What were their family traditions? What were customary hobbit traditions?
He had so many questions he'd hardly noticed he'd stopped brushing Minty's mane; he'd forgotten Bifur was braiding his hair; heck, he'd forgotten about breakfast! Kili was saying something to him, and from the looks of it he wanted to leave. Taking advantage of the fact that Master Bifur was in no way, shape, or form ready to relenquish his hold on the lion prince's mane, Fili motioned for Kili to go ahead without him. The younger prince shrugged and mentioned something about there not being anymore sausages or bacon by the time he got there, but Fili was engrossed in his thoughts again. He was, for the twelve-thousandth time, going over the moment he'd handed her that flower. How his heart sang to see her eyes light up like that.
They'd been going along at quite a slow pace, but considering how fast the bushes were passing by, Fili was lucky he had enough time to pull one of his knives from his boot, reach down from his pony, saw off a rose and hand it to her all in the span of about thirty seconds. He'd been so happy she hadn't been offended that he'd just clipped one of her roses. Fili had been a bit disappointed that he couldn't break off the thorns before gently passing it to her warm palm, but her expression was so deeply heartfelt he knew she was just as genuine as he was.
The prince wondered what suddenly felt so off to him; ah, yes, Master Bifur had finally finished. Fili turned around to see Bifur's face hadn't changed but his eyes smiled for him. "Thank you, Master Bifur." Fili acknowledged with a greatful nod. Bifur's hands moved quickly, but Fili gathered that he had to leave the flowers in all day. The prince chuckled. "As you wish, sir." The dwarrow physically grinned this time and motioned for the lad to go get some breakfast.
Before Fili even entered the room to inquire if Master Bombur had saved anything for the lad who helped him in the early morn, the prince had several company members pry about the flowers, and Fili quickly shut them up by saying it was Master Bifur's doing and "you better not make him mad, don't wanna see what he'd do with that boar spear, do we now?"
Luckily, Master Bombur had managed to save Fili enough meat to keep him going until the next meal and Kili still hadn't found his hidden goodies, alright!
As Fili ignored his little brother's rant about the flowers, the prince decided something. Once they'd conquered their mountain, once the dragon was slain and all was put right in the northeast wing of the world, he'd return to the Shire. The burglar — providing nothing unfortunate happened along the way — would definitely want to return to his precious hole in the hill, and his own mother would need to make the journey from Ered Luin to Erebor. It was the perfect excuse! He'd escort the burglar home, woo his precious flower, and bring her and his mother Dis back to the Lonely Mountain.
Fili liked that plan. One day he'd return to the Shire and make that flower his, no matter what it cost him.
One does not write a fic about Fili and not have an apple joke in there. It just isn't done. If you don't get the apple joke by now, I will refer you to the chapter "A Warm Welcome" in The Hobbit.
And yeah, idk where the Bifur with the flowers came from, my fingers typed it out and I liked it enough to keep it.
I tried to show both sides of Fili, that he's both young and naive and "knows nothing of the world" (because he just automatically thinks that killing the dragon is going to be a piece of cake without any longterm affects) and the mature side, the young dwarve that tries his hardest to be the prince everyone expects him to be.
And yes, this fic actually is very sad if you know the ending of The Hobbit.
Review if you feel like it :3 Idk what you'd say, but any feedback is appreciated!
If anyone would like me to continue, I'd be glad to :3 I have a few ideas and I'm kinda just working out some kinks, but if anyone wants me to write more I'd be happy to :)