Disclaimer: I own only my original characters, settings, and plots. Everything else is property of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was made for entertainment purposes only.
Settling
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Summary: Kíli is coming into his Majority and soon he would need to Settle.
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People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates.
Thomas Szasz (The Second Sin)
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Kíli had always been compared to his brother.
Ever since he could remember people would talk about how he was just like his brother (relatives) or that his brother could do better (his teachers) and for the most part he hadn't minded. He'd seen other younger siblings being treated the same way.
It was common.
And certainly it grated on his nerves, but it was bound to and he didn't pay it much mind. He assumed once he was older, the other dwarves would start focusing on what he could do, not what his brother did.
And when people referred to him as the "second heir" or worse "the spare," well he tended to ignore them (or beat them blue depending on the day, of course).
...
He never really noticed how different he looked from his brother and mother until Ellna pointed it out when he was fifteen.
"You look more like an elf than a dwarf," she'd sneered.
She'd had the most beautiful eyes: blue and green that shown like fresh cut stones set in gold, like the necklace that hang around his (grandmother's) throat in the painting his Uncle had carried across Middle Earth. For a while Kíli had thought he would marry Ellna for her eyes.
It was such a pity he ended up bruising them.
...
"Kíli, do cheer up," Fíli says after a moment of silence, "It is not the end of the world!"
Kíli snorts and does not look up from his book.
"Who cares what Loin says! He's a twig, everyone knows it. No one takes him seriously."
Kíli, for a moment, a very brief moment, considers telling his brother about what the argument had been about. How Loin had told him he would never be as great as his brother and that he was a shame to their line. How Loin had sneered and stated for the whole school that his Settling* would be that of the lowest rung. How it hadn't been the first time. How he hadn't been the only one.
Instead, he scowls and throws the book at his brother, "Oh shove off and leave me to brood in peace."
...
Kíli had never been gifted with the art of metalworking.
It was just another thing that separated him from his peers. Rather, his strengths lay in his studies. Arithmetic, Khuzdul, Law... it all came easy to him.
"You'll make a fine advisor to your brother one day," his teachers would tell him and he knew they meant it as a compliment. He knew because he knew his history. For behind every great King stood an Advisor and Comrade. His Uncle had Uncle Dwalin and Uncle Balin and Fíli would have Kíli.
But still he burned. Still he had to hold his teeth closed around his words as he nodded in acceptance. Still he had to hide his tears in his pillow the following night, tears of frustration, tears of resignation.
Why was his worth only measured by his brother, whether it be against him or for him? His place was not chosen. Who was to say he did not go off to become a great Scholar for the Seven Libraries or join the convent of the Temple of the Seven Sons?
Why had his people already Settled him for him? Why was he given no choice?
...
Uncle Thorin never seemed to compare him to his brother. Rather, Kíli liked to imagine he was the favorite of their uncle's affection.
"Uncle," Kíli greeted as his Uncle walked in through the door, his arms were laden with packs and packages.
As he took some of the packages from his Uncle's hands, Kíli was treated to the sight of one of his Uncle's rare smiles, "Malah, how you've grown! Has it been so long? You'll be your mother's height come spring!"
Carefully, the two dwarves navigated the narrow halls of their home before depositing of Uncle Thorin's belongings in the living room. Rushing to the kitchen, Kíli set a pot of water to boil before returning to the living room to see his Uncle resting on the chair by the fireplace.
"You must tell me of your travels," Kíli demanded as he kneeled at his Uncle's feet like he would do when he was young, "Did you really see a circus like you described in your letters? And what of that Gypsy girl. Could she truly breath fire?"
Thorin laughed, deep and low and so terribly rare. It made Kíli fear for Fíli. The weight of the crown was punishing to those destined to wear it and at times the death of his carefree brother felt inevitable. According to Uncle Balin, Uncle Thorin had not always been so serious. Rather he had been a great mischief-maker before Uncle Ferenir had lost his life in the Battle of Azanulbizar.
(And the thought of losing his brother is a weight on Kíli's shoulder that is too punishing to consider.)
"You ask too many questions too quickly, nephew," Thorin pretended to scowl as he ruffled Kíli's hair. Kneeling by Kíli's side with the chair as a footrest, he started his tale. "But I will answer them none the less. It is true that I saw a great traveling circus on my way up the trade roads. With a few extra coins in my pocket, I decided to stay for a show and was setting camp in the neighboring forest when I came across a most peculiar female..."
...
At one point, Kíli got up to make tea and came back to see Uncle Thorin was still leaning against the leg of the armchair and now talking to Fíli who had taken the seat on the armchair opposite Uncle.
Greeting his brother softly, he handed Uncle his mug and handed the second cup to his brother before returning to the kitchen to make another cup. They were no longer speaking of Uncle's travels, but of the new harvests and the upcoming trade agreements with the Shire. Both are topics that hold little of Kíli's interests, but he understands that this is the way Uncle trains Fíli for the Crown. He dare not complain.
By the time the tea was done, Uncle Dwalin has come and joined the conversation, word having spread of his Uncle's return, and soon the living room is transformed into that of a conference hall. But this time Kíli was prepared and he walked back with a tray of tea and cookies just as his Ama had taught him. And when Uncle Dwalin grunted a greeting as was his nature—he was not a dwarf of many words—Kill merely tilted his head in reply.
Uncle continued to reside on the floor, utterly relaxed in the company of family. Uncle Dwalin gestured wildly as he talked, working himself up over the reliability of Hobbits. Fíli sat lounging in the chair, soaking up every word that was spoken, though often his eyes would fall to the floor, unsure.
Pouring the tea, Kíli took his cup of tea and sat beside his Uncle. He did not speak for the rest of the evening, content.
...
They did not know he was listening.
Kíli did not mean to pry. But he was thirsty and they had been speaking rather loudly.
"He has become a sullen creature since last summer," Uncle tells Ama. The fire was dying and the lights were low. This time Uncle remained on his chair while his Ama sat by his side. "His fire is gone."
Ama placed a hand upon Uncle's shoulders, "It is not all that. He is coming into his Majority soon and shall be expected to Settle soon."
Uncle nodded but he remains tense, "And yet...I fear the worst, Sister. He has grown distant. His enthusiasm of the world diminishes and not once during the conversation did he speak when before he would not have allowed statues and expectation to silence him."
"He is finding himself." Ama urged, "It is reasonable that he would try the role expected of him."
"Aye," Uncle agreed after a moment, "I suppose that would explain it..."
...
The first time he went to a bar he is 59 and young.
The Settling had been wearing hard on his mind and body and it had actually been Ama who suggested Fíli take him to the local Pub.
He had heard stories of rowdiness, of fights and brawls breaking out amongst the elder dwarves. But most of all, he had heard of the dwarrowdams you could find at bars and, while he was terrified of touching, he would love to look.
Fíli had been twice before with their Uncle and Master Dwalin and, even though only five years older, seemed to have gotten it into his head that he was an adult now.
"Stay close, brother," Fíli warned, "Mother will have my head if I lose you."
Kíli laughed, "If anyone will be lost, I assure you it shall be you, brother."
Fíli scowled and gave Kíli a shove, which Kíli sidestepped.
The tavern was loud and the dwarves were halfway drunk by the time they arrive. Master Dwalin appeared to be arm wrestling with Master Dori who ran the teashop near their school. He was losing.
"Two pints and a Rocker," Fíli called out to the bartender over the roar of the crowd. Many had already come over to slap his brother on the arm and back in greeting.
The masses of dwarves present were unnerving and he is not ashamed to admit that he grabs onto his brother to keep from getting trampled. It only seems to get worse when people realize he is there.
"Master Archer!" they cry, "Princling!" At first, Kíli takes it in good sport, but soon he tires of the limelight and moves to stand in the corner. It would only be luck that the dwarves there were playing a game of Knuckles.
"Do ya play, youngin'?" An older dwarf asks as he deals out the cards.
"Aye, a round a' two," Kíli grins as he takes his cards. He is understating. The dwarflings at school know better than to bet Kíli in a game of Knuckles.
By the fourth round, he has gained twenty silver pieces and a good bruise on his arm where one of the more passionate player had gotten to swinging fists.
"A round a' two," cries a ginger dwarf as he hands over his dues, "A round a' two, he said."
Kíli cackles as he gathers his winnings. He's had two pints of Sweat Ale and a Gold Hammer and was starting to feel the affect of the heavy alcohol.
"All or nothin', laddie?" asks the older dwarf from before, "A good clean sweep to finish the game?"
Kíli giggles and shakes his head, "Nah, ma Ama'll go spare if she caught me gamblin', fellows." He attempts to stand and nearly trips before he finds his feet, "I'll take half an' leave the res' a it in the pot."
The blond dwarf laughs as he helps Kíli collect his half. Kíli is sure they've cheated him, but he's in too good a spirit to call them out on it. After all, unlike the winter before, Uncle Thorin had managed to get a job closer to town that was paying more than the usual. His family had no need for the extra pay.
He was stumbling through the pub, purse full, and attempting to find the door when he comes across the fight.
It is between Fíli and an older dwarf who he was sure had been playing at the table earlier. Uncle Dwalin and Master Dori are nowhere to be seen and the fighting was turning bloody. Every time he attempted to push himself to the front of the crowd, he was pushed back. And it was only the third time that he had managed to push himself to the front of the crowd desperate to help his brother that he noticed the ax.
He doesn't have to think about it before he shoved Fíli out of the way.
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"You were supposed...!"
"I'm..."
"Kíli..."
"...hear me?"
"WAKE UP!"
"...Please!..."
...
It takes three weeks for him to wake up.
Four to walk.
Ten to talk.
...
"I am so very sorry," Uncle Thorin whispers to him in the dead of night.
Kíli doesn't move. He doesn't dare breath. Never before has he heard his Uncle so raw, so open.
"The Settling nearly destroyed Ferenir," Uncle confesses as he strokes Kíli's hair - so thin and soft, "Because he could not Settle at my side as was dictated by father. And I swore on the day of your birth I would not allow the same fate to befall you and yet..." Kíli stills as he feels Uncle Thorin shift and place a kiss atop his head, "I am so very sorry for failing you."
...
After that Fíli stops taking him places.
Ama takes special care not to say anything about his Settling.
And Uncle leaves early to sign the trade agreements with the Shire.
...
He's sitting by the river, skipping rocks, and considering running away when Uncle Balin finds him.
He is wearing his favorite maroon robes and is carrying a basket with him and when he takes a seat next to Kíli on the river bank, he takes out his book and begins to write.
There is silence between them, but it is a comfortable silence and by the time the sun has set and Kíli must return home, he is smiling again.
...
He spends the next few days in the library.
There is a librarian there, a young dwarlfing named Ori, who when learning of what he is looking for neither told on him or attempted to discourage him.
"I do not wish to become just another wheel," he confides to Kíli one late evening when they are peering over another of the hundreds of old tomes that make Kíli's eyes burn.
And in this way, he finds an ally.
...
Only once does Fíli attempt to ask where he goes in his free time, but his brother never manages to say the words and Kíli does not attempt to say them for him.
Their relationship is strained as it had been since the day Kíli woke to see his family nestled into every open space of the room, sound asleep so their snores and sleep-heavy breaths filtered through the room, blocking any noise from the open window.
And while once, Kíli would have done everything to patch their fraying bond, he now enjoys the freedom he is privileged with. To be out of his brother's shadow...it is as if he is seeing the world for the first time and it is beautiful.
But with every worried glance from his Ama, Kíli is forcefully reminded of how fleeting it all is.
...
The day of his birthday is a quiet affair as if the whole world was holding its breath.
Uncle Thorin had returned the day before and had gifted him a beautifully carved wooden bow. It was obvious that it had been hand carved by his Uncle for it bore his classic, signature ax and sword. The surprise had been the ruin carved into the center of the bow where he would place his hands: חי*.
And as he passed through the sea of Dwarves present to witness his Settling, he found the ruin gave him strength. Ori is in the crowd, somewhere. A last minute invitation.
His family is waiting before him at the altar besides the Khazen*. All are dressed in their finest and even Kíli had done his hair up in the tradition braids though he can feel them already fraying, his hair to fine to hold—just like his fahter's as his Ama had told him when she'd tried to fix them before the ceremony and she had never told him that before.
When he reaches, he bows low. First to his Kind and then to his future king and finally, he bows the lowest to his Ama who is dressed in the last of her gold and silver. The crowd murmers in disagreement as he stands straight but Uncle is smiling and Ama looks shocked and Fíli, who he loves dearly even now, laughs softly.
And once the crowd settles, he takes his place in front of the Khazen who hands out the silver and red thread—silver for second son, red for life—first to him and then onward and outward from his family to his friends to his community, a symbol and a reminder of his duty and his bound.
No dwarf is ever alone. No dwarf is ever truly alone for the thread, in life and in death, connects them all and leads them home.
And then the ceremony starts in earnest with prayer and Kíli has memorized his lines and his role, speaking only when asked, only when he needs to. The change will come in the end.
Somewhere he is sure Ori stands flustered and excited, not yet allowed to grip the string and so claws at air instead and part of him wants to turn to look, to smile and assure him that all is right. But he keeps his eyes trained on the Khazen and the book in their hands and when the time comes, he takes a deep breath and steadies himself.
"When the first dwarves created Khazad-dûm just as Mahal had once created their home, they saw their land and their people and their crafts and knew that each dwarf had been Made with a destiny." The Khazen read, "And on the day of their Majority, each dwarfling-turned-dwarrow would learn their destiny and join the people of their fathers. For no dwarrow was Made to be alone. Kíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thrain, granddaughter of Thror, you are now a dwarrow. Your Made destiny lies before you. What say you?"
And for a moment, Kíli doubts. So long has he waged war against himself and his people under the shadow of his brother that the thought of answering advisor as he is expected fills him with such dread and fear and disgust that he cannot breath. And yet, as he spies his brother in the corner of his eye, he knew that such a fate would not truly end him. He knew that as advisor to the king, Kíli could do so much good for his people. He could change lives, lead his brother from war or too war, help the poor, be a great diplomat. And as if from a vision from Mahal he saw his life before him as one of peace and happiness and contentment at his brother's side, ruling as he was born to—as second and as looked-over as he is now—but no less important for every dwarrow is Made to play his part.
But then he thinks of his choice and his freedom and he sees another life. One filled with danger and strife and at times fear and uncertainty. But still one lived well, full of passion and adventure and love and happiness. A life that is not as easy as one lead as just another cog, another wheel, in the community. And he knows in his heart that he could not live a life of contentment for it would also be a life of regret, regret over missed opportunities and lost chances. He wanted to see the world; he wanted to explore. He was not ready to Settle.
He wanted to see the gypsy girl who breathed fire for his own eyes. He wanted to explore the mountain ranges to the east, ride on the backs of great-tusked beasts, fight for glory, lose and get up again. He wanted to fly on backs of eagles, smell the fresh springs in the south, taste the flesh of wild berries along forest paths. He wanted. He wanted something more than this: stone walls and grandeur and community like chains around his ankles.
His uncle was right, Kíli thought back to that night so long ago, he had lost his passion in attempt to fit the role everyone had molded him for—his peers, his teachers, even his brother. Surely if he said what was expected of him, he would die.
He hoped Fíli would forgive him. Ama would understand. Uncle, perhaps, would smile. And they were the only ones who truly mattered.
And as he looked the Khazan in the eye and refused, Kíli was certain he heard at least one cheer in the crowd.
A/N:
I had an idea coming in on what this story was going to be. And then that didn't happen. And this happened instead. And I liked the ending, but I feel it could have been better.
*Settling - A coming of age ceremony that Dwarves go through when they hit their Majority (in this world it's 60, I know some sources say 75, but here it's 60). It's hard to explain, but my idea was that Dwarves have a strict order like that of a beehive. And during a Dwarf's Settling s/he picks his/her place in society that s/he would do for the rest of his/her life.
And while its supposed to be a choice based on skill and preference, there are a lot of social expectations that the dwarves face on where they should go. As brother to the King, Kíli is expecting to agree to be Fíli advisor. Instead he chooses not to choose, which he wasn't sure was legal for the longest time. That is why he and Ori searched in the library for so long until they found proof it had been done before. If it wasn't legal then the community could force Kíli to choose because not choosing is a big problem and can lead to issues in how they run their community.
*חי - The Hebrew word Chai meaning life or living. It is extremely prominent in Jewish culture. Tolkein based the Dwarves off of Jews and as such I felt the word appropriate to use. In Dwarvish culture it symbolizes "the power of life" or "the gift of life" and is extremely important in the Dwarven religion, which I imagined exists because I've never read anything canon about Dwarven religion.
*Khazen - High Priest - It is a combination of the word Khazâd (the Khuzdul world for Dwarves) and Kohen (the Hebrew word for priest)
***Please note that Settling is an AU headcanon and is NOT a part of the main Universe headcanon!***