"Are you ready, My Lord?" Kili was grinning from ear to ear – the King was about to meet his subjects for the first time since the coronation, and the dark-haired Dwarf could not have been more pleased or proud. The past three decades had seen so many changes – the reclaiming of Erebor, the rebuilding of Dale and Laketown, and renewed alliances with the Elves of Mirkwood and Imladris. A good bit of the credit for those alliances could be laid at the feet of the King. He had been a tireless and patient negotiator, knowing when to compromise and when to stand his ground. Thorin had grumbled a bit for form's sake, but everyone knew he was pleased with his heir's work, and the resulting treaties had benefitted all parties. Border patrols were strengthened, trade flourished, and all the peoples prospered.
Thorin, never fully recovered from the wounds he sustained at the Battle of the Five Armies, had relied more and more on Fili for the day-to-day running of the kingdom in the last few years. The once-reckless young Dwarf had grown into a wise and just leader. And when Thorin left them to join his ancestors in the Halls of Waiting, he did so with the confidence that the Lion of Durin and his strong Right Hand would continue to guide their people well.
Fili, crowned and robed as befitted a King of Dwarves, didn't answer his brother's hail. He stood near a window, turning something over in his hands. Kili approached quietly and spoke again. "Fili, are you ready?"
Fili looked up at his brother, and Kili was stunned and dismayed to find tears in the blue eyes. Fili had been so strong in the days since Thorin's passing – somber but calm, a rock to anchor the kingdom. The calm and strength had fled for this one moment, and he stood before his brother as what he was: a nephew bereft of a beloved uncle and mentor, the weight of a kingdom bowing his wide shoulders. The light of the window glinted off the object in his hands, a silver ring with a caged blue stone, the symbol of kingship. A ring as solid and sturdy as the Dwarf who had worn it.
"I can't … I can't wear this, Kee," Fili whispered. "It's Thorin's, and I have no right … The crown is mine now, and it belongs to Erebor, just as you and I do. But this … I haven't been able to put it on since he gave it to me that last night. If I do, it means he really is gone, and he's not coming back, and all this is on me now. I don't … I don't know if I can do this." Sapphire eyes met chocolate, pleading for reassurance.
Kili smiled softly, taking both of his brother's hands in his. "The ring belongs to the King, and he wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't think you should have it. Remember what he told us that night? He knew the kingdom would be safe in your hands. And you won't be alone – I'll be here, and so will Dwalin and the others. You know that, don't you?"
After a moment, Fili nodded his head. Kili took the ring from his brother's hand and slipped it onto Fili's right forefinger – it would need resizing for Fili to wear it on his middle finger as Thorin had. "The King deserves to wear the King's ring, as he deserves the crown. You will be a fine King, Fee, you had a fine teacher." Kili smiled, his teeth white against the darkness of his full beard. "We both did."
Fili looked at the ring, and his brother's hands still enclosing his. The light reflected off the blue of the stone, and he was reminded once again of Thorin's eyes, by turns fierce and gentle, sparkling and clouded, but always a window to his heart and his thoughts. He remembered the softness in them that last night as he'd placed the ring in his heir's hand. "Look after Erebor," he'd whispered, then joined the hands of his sister-sons together. "Look after each other. If you stand together, you can never fall." With his last breath came the benediction: "Long live the King."
His gaze came back up and met Kili's, and a soft smile tugged at his mouth as his shoulders straightened. Kili's smile went even wider as he saw the Lion rear in his brother's eyes once again, and he clapped the blond on the shoulder. "That's the brother I know. Come on, they're waiting for you."
To the great hall they went, the Lion followed by his Right Hand, and as they entered, the cry went up from a hundred throats: "Long live the King!" It echoed off the stone walls, and Fili looked down once more at the ring. It was a weight on his hand, and would take a bit of getting used to, but soon he'd carry it as though it had always been there. This he knew in his heart, and his smile was brilliant as he gazed upon his people. His people before him, the solid strength of his brother at his back, and a phantom hand on his shoulder, a deep voice in his heart and his mind: "Long live the King."