I may continue this story, and follow Fili as he takes the throne, depending on what people think :)
This is my second attempt at a FF so I hope it is ok!
Enjoy, and reviews would be welcome!
It was bitterly cold. Fili couldn't remember the last time he'd been this frozen. It was a cold that went right through his skin and chilled his very bones. But then again, that might have something to do with the fact he had just attended the funeral of his mother. The last of his kin, gone. It was grief that killed her, not pneumonia, regardless of what the healers told him. Many dwarves had picked up illness travelling to Erebor after news of the victory of the Battle of Five Armies, as the bards were calling it, spread like wildfire. None had died though, none but his mother, his dear mother. Fili couldn't say he was surprised, as indifferent as it seemed. A heart could only withstand so much sorrow, and by Aulë she'd suffered during her time. To see her brother and youngest son lying amongst the honoured dead had been too much for her to take. She shut the world out, retreating in to the innermost parts of her mind, refusing food, water and aid. Perhaps it was selfish to think so, but Fili couldn't help feeling bitterness towards his mother for doing that. She wasn't the only one grieving. She wasn't the only one who'd lost a brother. He'd needed her love, her support, to overcome the crushing heartache that had consumed him since they'd laid Thorin and Kili to rest beneath the mountain. But even the pleading of her eldest son didn't reach her and soon she past into the shadow. He prayed that her soul would find the halls of his forefathers, and that she would be reunited with his little brother and uncle. The thought of them being together in the afterlife, while he was left living brought stinging tears to his eyes. He angrily swiped them away before the bitter wind froze them on his face.
"Are you alright laddy?" Asked a voice from behind him. Fili swallowed, trying to compose himself, and turned to find Balin approaching slowly. Fili clenched his jaw and nodded stiffly. Balin silently moved to stand beside Fili and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. No words of sympathy would comfort the young lad, and Balin knew that. He just wanted to show the princeling that he was not alone. "It took me a long time to find you lad." Balin huffed, still slightly breathless from the long trek up the hill.
"I wanted to be alone." Fili said quietly.
"I know you do. But your people need you." Balin said, gazing down the hill. The view should have been breath-taking. From here, the plains surrounding the mountain stretched out before where they stood, merging in with the base of the Mountain which towered into the sky and disappeared amidst the grey clouds heavy with snow that was yet to fall. The stormy landscape should have taken his breath away, but he could not shake the images of the battle that had raged here not 2 months ago. It had rained since, and washed away the blood that had stained the ground, but Balin knew he would never be able to look at the plains without seeing the piles of mangled bodies, nor breathe the air without his nostrils being filled with the stench of death. Clearing the bodies had taken days and days. It had been funny, in a twisted way, to Balin; seeing the bodies of orcs and goblins laying amongst the bodies of dwarves, elves and men. Races that hated each other in life, found peace next to one another in death.
"I can't do it." Fili whispered. The vulnerability in his voice tugged on Balin's heart. The poor boy was too young to have to deal with this, and yet… And yet he had to. He was the last living descendant from the line of Durin, the rightful heir to Erebor, and whether he liked it or not, he would have to sit on the throne and take leadership of his people.
"You can lad." Balin said simply. "You are Thorin's nephew, you have the blood of kings in your blood." Fili looked at him and opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted as a certain hobbit came puffing up the hill.
"Goodness me what a climb!" Bilbo exclaimed as he mounted the grassy crest. "Quite a view though." He motioned towards the mountain.
"Isn't it." Fili agreed emptily. Balin looked at him in concern. It was not like the eldest son of Dis to be so apathetic.
"Brrrr, it's rather chilly." Continued Bilbo obliviously. "It's going to snow, if those clouds are anything to go by."
"The fires of Erebor will keep us warm enough, don't you worry Mr Bilbo." Balin reassured him, glancing at Fili. He had no children of his own, and Dwalin had never needed much in the way of comfort from him when they were growing up. He was completely at a loss as to how he should go about comforting the young prince.
"Why, Fili, your hands are going blue!" Bilbo said anxiously. "You should return to Erebor, you'll catch your death if you stay out here much longe-" The hobbit's eyes went wide as he realised what he'd just said. Fili flinched at his words, and an awkward silence descended upon them.
"Come, let us return." Balin said desperate to break that silence after a few minutes had slowly seeped by. Bilbo agreed exuberantly, looking rather frozen himself, and Fili nodded listlessly. Together the trio traipsed back down the hill and began the long walk to the Mountain.
While Balin and Bilbo made good-humoured conversation about menial topics, Fili couldn't stop his mind wandering to darker places. A life without Kili was no life at all. The thought hit him again, as it had so many times before since Kili's death. Since the birth of his little brother, Fili had never spent more than one day apart from him. They were a pair, a set. Aulë, this pain was agonising. What sickened Fili even more was the fact he was too much of a coward to bear it, instead he emptied his mind, answered when spoken to, and became a shell of his former self.
When they at last came to the foot of the mountain, and entered the Kingdom within, Balin turned to him;
"Will you join us?" He asked gently. Fili looked at him questioningly. "A feast…" Another blank look. "In your mother's memory." Fili's breath hitched as a fresh wave of pain hit him like an arrow piercing his skin. Mother… Guilt weighed heavy on his mind as he followed the other two into a hall that had been made ready for the many memorials that had taken place. He was ashamed he had thought so badly of her earlier, ashamed he had been angry that she'd shut him out. She was his mother, she had raised him, made the best life for him and Kili as she could. She deserved more than his bitter thoughts.
"I'm sorry Mum." He whispered, hoping she'd hear.
"What was that?" Asked Bilbo, looking at him curiously.
"Nothing." Fili said quickly, shooting a smile at his hobbit friend, though he could put no warmth into it.
The wave of noise that hit him as he walked into the hall was astonishing. But then again, dwarves loved a feast, no matter the occasion. He followed Balin to where the rest of their company was sitting. The 10 others that remained and Bilbo tended to stick together. The bonds that had been made in the adventures that had lead them here ran deep. Bifur clapped him on the back as he sat down with them.
"It will turn good Fili, just you wait and see." Said Bofur, leaning across the table to hand Fili a mug of ale. But that was easy for him to say, thought Fili numbly, trying not to glower, Bombur was still alive and well.
"Bitter thoughts have never helped anyone." Gandalf commented as he approached the table. The others exclaimed greetings as the wizard made to sit with them, squeezing onto a bench meant for dwarves. He looked pointedly at Fili. Fili looked down. "Your mother was a good dwarf. She would not want her son to turn spiteful."
"You didn't know her!" Fili snapped at the old wizard, instantly regretting it as silence fell amongst their number. "Sorry." He muttered.
"Do not be sorry. The aftermath always seems dark. Don't let the darkness overcome you." Gandalf said softly.
"Oh he won't! Will you Fili?" Ori piped up, looking admiringly at him. "You're going to be a great king!" Something in the innocence and respect of Ori's voice reminded him so much of Kili that something inside him snap.
"NO!" He yelled, standing and looking wildly around at the dwarves he had come to love. "NO! I am not your king! I'm not the king you need and I am most certainly not the dwarf you think I am!"
"Yes! Yes you are lad!" Balin protested loudly, rising from his seat. "Do not think we would willingly allow someone as young as you to take the throne if we didn't believe you would be a good and just leader. We know you and knew your uncle. You are destined for this lad!"
"You don't know me! Not anymore!" He shouted. "I'm not the same. How can I be?" He looked at Gandalf desperately. "How? Tell me how I'm supposed to be the same when Kili is dead. DEAD." Tears slipped down his face, making him only angrier. He didn't want to seem weak. No one tried to stop him as he stormed from the hall, though he felt every eye on him.
He didn't mean to end up there. Well perhaps he did. Perhaps it was what he needed. Thorin and Kili's tombs stood gleaming white in the still darkness of the cavern deep beneath the centre of Erebor; the stone carvings were so life like it was is if they were only sleeping. He reached out a shaking hand to touch Kili's peaceful face.
"Baby brother." He whispered, his voice catching. "I miss you." He said dumbly. It didn't seem enough. "It's funny because I've heard people talk about lonely…and I thought I knew lonely. Like that time you and Mum went to visit Uncle Thorin, and I had to stay at home because I was ill. But that was for one day Kili. One day. More than one month has gone since I last saw you, brother. I can't go on without you. It hurts too much" He closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the tomb. "Why did you leave my side? I told to you to stay by me, but you didn't. If you had, I'd… I'd have kept you safe! I wouldn't have let anyone hurt you. You're my brother and I swore I'd never let anything happen to you." Hot tears seeped out of his closed eyes and Fili suddenly felt everything, all the emotions he'd been trying to repress, begin to crash out inside him. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" He screamed out into the empty hall. "WE BELONG TOGETHER. WHY DIDN'T YOU TAKE ME TOO?" He didn't know who he was shouting out but the injustice burned his very soul. Looking back down at the stone face of his brother, he couldn't stop the sobs that wracked his body from escaping him, making the sound of his anguish echo around the ancient room. "I hope it didn't hurt too much, at the end. If I'd have been there, I'd have taken the pain away from you. I don't know how, but I would have done." He paused hopelessly, swallowing hard as the memory of finding the lifeless body of his brother lying amongst the dead. He felt the same hysteria building inside him as it had done on the battlefield. "We are Fili and Kili. We have been since we were born. And people don't understand Kili. They keep telling me I'll make a great leader, but how can they say that? I'm not the dwarf they think I am. Not anymore. How can I be? Half of me is dead. Half of me is gone forever. I can't be just Fili. That's never who I was, because you were a part of me, and I was a part of you… Tell me how to go on. Please Kili. Tell me how?!" He pleaded. No answer came. "I can't do this without you little brother…" He whispered.
Fili didn't know how long he sat there next to Kili's tomb, whispering stories from their childhood to him, trying to pretend that, beneath the stone, Kili was only sleeping, and would soon awake so they could go on another adventure, and find more trouble. At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he awoke with a jolt, disorientated and unsure of where he was. The fire that had been lit in the memory of his mother now burned low, casting long shadows over the tombs, old and new, that inhabited the hall. The familiar feeling of loss, that had greeted him every morning since the Battle, found Fili all too soon and he sighed, knowing he would shortly have to face the others after his swift exit from the feast last night. His eyes were sore from the tears he had shed and his throat ached dully. He wondered, as he had done many times before, when the pain would end, but his musings were interrupted when he felt another presence in the room. His breath caught in his throat and he slowly turned.
"Hello?" He called into the empty cavern. "Is someone there?"
The fire next to his mother's coffin flickered and suddenly Fili felt as if he was a guilty young dwarf again, having just been caught red handed doing something he shouldn't. There was only one who made him feel like that.
"Uncle Thorin?" He asked slowly. "Uncle is that you?"
There was no answer but the presence remained strong.
"I don't know if I can do this Uncle. I'm not you. I never will be. I'm not brave enough." He admitted quietly. "I don't know how to be a king."
The fire flickered again and Fili could almost imagine his Uncle scolding him for being a coward, but then he remembered the time when he'd been but a dwarfling, before Kili was born, and he'd ran to his Uncle when a terrible storm raged outside their home. Rather than scolding the young dwarf for being a baby, Thorin had sat Fili on his knee and told him that without fear, there could not be bravery, and even the bravest of dwarves felt the bitter bite of fear at times. Fili found that memory strangely comforting and looked to his Uncle's tomb.
"But what if I mess it all up?" He asked quietly. "Everyone's expecting me to be like you, but I can't be. Not yet."
Again, he received no answer, but the fire flickered and a wave of peace washed over him, leaving him feeling calmer than he had for a long time. He stood, stretching the cramp from his legs.
"I will try then, Uncle. I promise you that. I will try my best." He said resolutely, and warmth spread through his body, before fading along with the presence, leaving Fili alone again, but a different alone. An alone that felt less desperate. An alone that was not, perhaps, really alone. "Thank you." He said to the stone carving of his Uncle, touching the cold marble lightly, before moving to kiss his mother's tomb.
As Fili made to leave, he turned towards where his brother lay, one last time. "I will never forget you, little brother. I love you." He said simply, knowing that the pain at losing Kili would never fade, but maybe he would get better at dealing with it.
"Fili lad!" Exclaimed Dwalin as Fili entered the central hall of the Kingdom. "Where have you been?"
"Thinking." Fili replied simply, smiling at the war toughened dwarf. "Just thinking."
"Wouldn't do too much of that lad, if I were you." Said Bombur, as he came wheezing up. "Leads to bad things."
"Not always." Replied Fili. "I think I may go and sleep for a bit. I expect all this King business is going to be tiring."
"Aye, that it will be." Dwalin agreed. "Off you go then boy, we'll make your excuses."
As Fili made the winding journey to his quarters, he past Balin, who sat on a bench by a fire. They shared a look that said more than words alone could say. The old dwarf watched as the young prince walked away, towards his room, and began to chuckle to himself.
"You've done a good job with that one Thorin, old friend." Balin said smiling. The fire flickered.