A Little Too Much and A Little Too Wrong

For HKM: Kili is not like other Dwarves. He's always been a little too much and a little too wrong. He struggles with this his entire life until someone comes along and shows him the truth. Kili/Ori

I started noticing something was off about me at fifteen. I asked my mother enough times, but she assured me I was a full blooded Dwarf, I was just on the tall side.

"And so is your uncle," she reminded me. "He was just about your height now at your age. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

When I was thirty, I took up archery. Axes were too heavy for me and I had trouble leaving myself open. But I had a good eye for far off targets. Dwalin gave me my first bow and showed me how to use it. Unlike traditional Dwarfish weaponry, the bow felt right. It became my passion.

My beard started to come in when I hit forty, which is average. But the hairs would get caught in the bowstring. I was faced with a choice I did not know I would have to make. Grow a beard like what's expected of me and give up archery, or sacrifice the beard.

Though it hurt and seemed almost physically painful to do so, I learned to shave from some men and took to that. My brother thought I lost my mind. Most dwarves did. I was bullied relentlessly for it, called a half-elf, sometimes even beaten for loving the bow.

But I loved archery. Fili wouldn't defend me. He didn't help them, but he didn't help me either. To very many people, we seem close, but we really aren't. Fili is only fulfilling Mother's wish to look out for me and Thorin, our uncle, thinks if we spend more time together, Fili will stop being embarrassed of me.

Before the quest my uncle and Balin spent years planning, I was practicing at the shooting range, doing all I could to ignore the taunting and jeering looks from the others. I ignore them, blocking out their hateful words. While reaching for another arrow, a burly Dwarrow knocks me to the ground.

"Are you deaf?" he shouted, stepping on my hand. I clench my jaw, trying not to wince or groan at the pain. "I asked you a question, half-elf."

"I'm not a half-elf," I growl.

"Then why do you not grow a beard? Why take up Elfish weapons?"

"Shove off. I don't have to explain myself to you. I am an heir of Durin—"

"Who gives a crap about your lineage! You're the spare!"

A sword is tucked under his chin. "Get off him. Now." The Dwarf backs off and I stand up, massaging my hand. "Not everyone is skilled with axes and blades. There is nothing wrong with being a marksman. And spare or not, you should respect the royal family." My defender smirks. "I'd hate to think what Thorin Oakenshield would do to whoever harms his nephew."

The Dwarrow snarls and walks away. My defender lowers the blade, letting out a whoosh of air and shaking. "By Aulë, that never stops being scary!" He's dressed in scribe robes.

"If you're not a warrior," I say, "Then why are you here?"

"Oh, well," he sheathed the sword. "Scribes need to know how to fight also. Besides, I'm more a marksman myself. Not the bow, though. Slingshot. I'm not one for big weapons. They're cumbersome and I tend to carry around books, quills, and ink. Axes and swords have a bit of an easy time crushing the tools of my trade. I'm Ori, by the way. And I know who you are, Prince Kili—it's nothing to be surprised by! I'm not a creep or anything, you're just recognizable." He stroked his beard, smiling.

"Thanks, but I didn't need your help."

"That guy has a tendency to judge others and he would have broken your bow. He used to bully me when I was a child. Of course, I have two older brothers who got him to back off. You know Dori son of Lori, I'm sure."

I nod. Who doesn't know Dori son of Lori? That Dwarf's stronger than Dwalin and is famed for wrestling!

"He's my oldest brother. And Nori Thief-King is also a brother of mine."

"Really?! I didn't know Dori and Nori were related…though I should have guessed, I suppose."

Ori shrugs. "None of us really look alike," he admits. "Would you have guessed I was related to Dori or Nori on first glance?" I shake my head. "Not to mention our professions are all different. A wrestler, a thief, and a scribe, so…no one tends to make the connection between us."

"Well, thanks anyway."

"You know, everyone's wrong about you." Ori said.

I scoff. "I am a Dwarf who loves archery so much, I shave my beard and I'm also tall and probably almost as tall as my own uncle. What exactly are they wrong about?"

"Well," Ori crossed his arms. "You are terrifying and strange and beautiful. That's something not everyone knows how to love. You're fine as you are."

I don't know why those words affect me like a key fitted into a lock. I didn't realize I had felt like I've been in a cage so small I couldn't move and now the cage is open and I can escape.

Ori smiles at me. "I'll let you get back to your training. I have to be somewhere soon. Farewell, your highness," he bowed before leaving.

I turn away to continue practicing, and then stop myself. "Ori, wait!" I call, jogging to catch up to him. Ori stared at me, confused. I don't even know what I'm doing. "Would you…I know where there's a nice tea shop if you'd like to have tea with me sometime."

Ori smiles. "I'd love you, your highness."

"Please just call me Kili."

"All right, Kili. Would tomorrow morning be too soon or…"

"Tomorrow would be perfect."

Ori bows again, walking by me. If the rest of the day is spent on air, no one notices. Except my mother and uncle who won't stop smirking at me for their lives.