Heirs of the Lonely Mountain
Prologue: Dawn and Dusk
A series of one-shots in which the mischievous brothers, Fíli and Kíli grow up with Thorin as their guardian, partaking in both amusing and terrifying adventures. Beginning with the birth of Kíli, this story will delve into the childhood of Durin's heirs and the mischief they get up to.
With a heavy heart, Thorin steadily strode towards the small home he shared with his sister, Dís. It was raining heavily, soaking him to the bone, his feet sloshing in the wet mud and his hair sticking to his battle-worn face. As he reached the cottage, he saw a light from the window closest to the entrance and peered into it, smiling as he saw his sister sitting on the chair by the fire with her son on her lap. She was braiding his hair, her lips moving as she sang to him.
Shaking his head with weary tiredness, he looked away and pulled on the handle of the door, stepping inside. He slowly took off his heavy armour and set his weapons aside; carefully, quietly. A pained sigh escaped his lips as he brought a blood stained hand to his worn and grimy face, pushing the sodden hair away from his eyes. He took off his boots and, as an afterthought, placed them neatly next to the door.
A pattering of light footsteps filled the hall and suddenly Thorin was knocked aside by his tiny blonde nephew. The dwarvling clutched his uncles legs, nuzzling into the heavy, sodden fabrics covering them.
"Mummy, Uncle Thorin is home!" He pulled at Thorin once more, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. "Where's papa?"
Dís followed her young son shortly after he had called, one hand rubbing her swollen midsection. She had gotten bigger since Thorin had left to go to war. Stepping closer to her older brother, she snaked an arm around his middle, pulling him close.
"How long left, sister?"
She smiled warmly at him, through her surprisingly gaunt cheeks and shadowed eyes. "Two moons." He raised his hand to her face, stroking her cheek with a calloused thumb.
"You look unwell."
Dís pursed her lips, looking as stubborn as Thorin often did, a trait that was said to be passed down Durin's line. "I was afraid." He watched as his sister blinked back tears. He pulled her in and held her gently, kissing the top of her head. "It's been hard, the pregnancy. Worry has only made it worse." Thorin rested his brow against his sisters for brief moment.
"I am here."
Thorin vaguely remembered that Fíli was still standing there, his eyes on his uncle expectantly. "Fíli, I must speak with your mother alone." He patted the dwarvling on the head, his fingers mussing up the thick blonde locks that Dís had put into painstakingly detailed braids. The boy pushed his uncles hands away, giggling. "Go to your room."
The laughter stopped as the five-year-old pouted up at his uncle, sadness filling his gaze. Before he could protest, he noticed his uncles' look of finality and turned to leave, though not before giving his mother a quick embrace, his podgy hands wrapped around her middle. The blonde proceeded to pat his mother's pregnant stomach, low whispers escaping his lips. Thorin did not speak to his sister until Fíli had run to his room.
Dís looked at her elder brother, pursing her lips with a deep worry radiating in her gaze. "Where is my husband?"
Thorin looked away; whether it was in shame or fury, Dís could not tell. "Gone."
Time seemed to still.
A choked sob filled the air.
Dís fell to the floor; tears streaming down her face.
Loud wails echoed through the house. Thorin reached forward, kneeling down and embracing his sister. He listened as his sisters body shook with wracking sobs, her head buried into the crook of his neck.
He spun small circles on her back soothingly, his fingers knotting through her hair. "How, Thorin? How?"
He frowned, resting his forehead against hers; their tears mingling together in shared pain. He shook his head against hers. "Not today, Dís." She clutched at his arms as a fresh wave of tears came streaming out of her usually bright eyes.
Thorin didn't know how long they sat like that, holding each other tightly. Minutes, hours even, could have passed. Dís had stopped crying a while back, finding comfort in her brothers embrace.
Dís suddenly let go of her brother, clutching at her stomach with a low groan. "No…no...it cannot be time yet. It is not time." Her eyes rolled to the back of her head for a few moments before catching her brothers' eyes through a haze of pain. "The babe, Thorin. It is coming."
Her throat was caught between heavy sobs and choking, her lean fingers clutching at her stomach as the pain overwhelmed her. "Please, Thorin. It hurts."
Hours later, Thorin sat clutching the new-born babe, staring down at its pink face as his sister slept on the soft chair by the fire. The child was tiny, even more so than the average new-born dwarf. His skin was partially translucent and Thorin could feel his tiny heart thrumming beneath his fingers.
Kíli. The last words his sister spoke before she passed out from exhaustion and sorrow.
Kíli.
He brushed his thumb over the child's forehead, brushing strands of dark hair away from his face. The child opened its mouth and a loud, keening wail echoed through the air.
A large smash filled the hallway and Thorin's head shot up, spying Fíli's blonde mane of hair whipping past the door-his nephew was determined not to be seen. Grimacing, Thorin stood and looked towards his sister for a brief moment. If it wasn't for the minute rising and falling of her chest, he would have thought her to be dead. With the babe in his arms, he walked through to Fíli's room and found the dwarvling sitting on his bed with his hands on his knees, a few stray tears streaming down his face.
Upon noticing his uncle, Fíli quickly wiped away the tears. "Is…is mummy gone?"
Thorin jerkily shook his head. "Just asleep, young one." The dwarvling sniffed once, before noticing the bundle in Thorin's still watering, Fíli looked back towards his uncle.
"What is it?"
"He is your brother, Fíli." At this, the blonde wrinkled his nose in distaste.
"Why is it so ugly?" A pout formed on his face, causing Thorin to chuckle despite the worry he had for his widowed sister. "What is his name?"
Kíli.
Thorin looked down towards the young child resting in his arms, a thumb stuck in between his lips. His sisters last word running through his mind.
Kíli.
"His name, Fíli, is Kíli." Thorin looked to both of his nephews, regarding their differences; Fíli with his blonde hair, blue eyes and honey-toned skin, Kíli with his dark hair and eyes which accompanied his pale skin—they contrasted each other, remarkably similar to dawn and dusk.