Akin To a Dream, a hobbit fanfic

A/N: Written for the kmeme. With Tolkien's Khuzdul being such a very incomplete language, I started making up my own words phonetic pronunciations of Hebrew, as that is what Khuzdul was based on. I really hope I don't offend anyone in playing with it in such a way. Translations will be at the bottom of each comment!

It was the wince on Kíli's face as he clambered onto his pony that Fíli noticed first. It caught his attention enough that he began to watch his younger brother's movements a little more closely. As it was not unusual for him to ride abreast of Kíli, or maintain a constant spiel of vacuous conversation, it was not likely that anyone would notice a difference if he pushed his way to ride next to Kíli, or attempt to engage him. A roll of the eyes from Bofur, a mutter from Glóin as he was replaced in the line, and nothing more was said.

Closer, he noticed how Kíli's hand returned to his back time and again, rubbing in discomfort. Once, his face contorted as he pressed at his lower back, and that was enough for Fíli. He spurred his pony forwards, until he drew level with his Uncle. Unwilling to allow others to overhear, and shame Kíli, he moved his hands in silent conversation.

'We have been neglecting the youngest of our company.'

Thorin did not reply except to tilt his head in acknowledgement of the conversation.

He has twisted something. He hurts.

A nod was not entirely descriptive of Thorin's intentions, but it was enough for Fíli to know that action was being taken, and he continued to ride with a smile on his face.

They were not, however, able to take care of Kíli as soon as they wished. Though Thorin separated the brothers from the rest of the group, to 'look after the ponies', before aid could be given there were trolls and then Radagast, orcs, wargs, one thing, another.. And they were not able to breathe again until they reached Rivendell.

As soon as they were free from the watchful eyes, however, Thorin seized Kíli by the hood and dragged him to the bathroom attached to the room he had been given. Kíli ceased to struggle against the silent determination of his Uncle when he was faced with heat and pungent steam, and the sight of Fíli stirring a bath.

"Did you really think we would not notice your discomfort, akhanavah?" Fíli asked, "Where does it hurt?"

"My back, my neck, my side... But how?" Kíli gestured around the room at the oils and the herbal pouches, the candles that gave the marbled room a soft orange glow, the large wooden tub lined with linen and filled with softly steaming water. It was a luxury he was unused to.

"Elves rather enjoy the finer things in life. Regularly," Thorin said, with a twist of bitterness.

"We're merely taking advantage of the hospitality they have offered us," Fíli said, far more diplomatically. "Now, I will leave the two of you to it, before the water gets cold."

"Ensure we are not disturbed," Thorin ordered, and Fíli confirmed he would do so with a mock-bow.

When the door snapped shut, the hand on the back of Kíli's neck became gentle, and he was physically turned to face Thorin.

Facing him, Kíli said, "This is very kind of you."

Thorin gave an affectionate smile – one that Kíli had missed seeing in the hurlyburly of the quest. When they were alone, Thorin was no longer leader, with all the heavy expectations that entailed, but lover and partner – but it was rare to be alone. Even a smile was an intimate thing, when it was for you alone, and had been missed. "Your brother is right – though it pains me to say it. Undress. The warm water will do more for your aches than anything else."

Willingly, Kíli obeyed, discarding his clothes on the smooth tiled floor as Thorin did much the same. Soon, they were both climbing into the tub, and Kíli gave a sigh as he was enveloped in the warmth, up to his shoulders when he sat. Thorin, however, grunted, and tugged at Kíli's waist, until the younger dwarf was settled easily between his thighs.

Blissful.

He had been fed hearty fare, the second time round at least, the odd elvish wine had left the world slightly fuzzy, and the herbal scents rising from the flickering candles and hot water made tension seep away. With Thorin's arms encircling him, bringing him back against hard muscle and soft skin, it was a world away from the peril that had pursued them only hours before. Their long hair mingled in the water, brown swirling about Kíli's shoulders, black around Thorin's. It was so peaceful, and the peace so foreign, it felt akin to a dream.

But Kíli could not remain settled for long. "Where do you think Fíli will say we are?"

Thorin merely gave a shrug – Kíli felt the muscles shifting behind him.

"They probably won't notice, after all that wine."

No reaction from the dwarven King.

"Do you think the elves will be cross about the table?"

At last, Thorin stirred. "Kíli. Stop gabbling on."

"But-" Kíli turned in the older dwarf's grasp to continue protesting, but – for once - his voice failed him. Thorin's head was tipped back against the arm of the bath, and his eyes were closed. There was a weariness there, in deep lines, bruised skin and grey pallor, but also a contentment that Kíli had missed seeing. He could not resist the sight, and he leant forwards to place a kiss in the hollow of Thorin's neck, soft and tender. When he drew back, Thorin's lips were curved upwards in a smile that had not been there before.

"I'm sorry," Kíli offered quietly, and settled back into his previous position, but his hands twisted against each other.

Thorin's grip on him shifted, and he took hold of the fumbling fingers. "Atzar. Hishkyet," Thorin rumbled.

It was hard for Kíli to do. He was in a foreign land, with a people that made his lover bristle with hatred, he had faced danger and then yet more danger... A dwarf who was not normally flighty would be nervous after that, and Kíli rarely took a moment to lie back and watch the stars turn. But he closed his eyes, and willed himself to relax as Thorin had asked him to do. As if listening to his thoughts, Thorin's hands released him, and moved to gently stroke his sides, touch slick in the clear water. Leisurely, the touch moved, smoothing over Kíli's skin, exploring that which it had not touched for some days.

Time seemed to slow, and the rest of the world began to dissolve from Kíli's consciousness. It was not important any more. All that mattered was the touch, and the rise and fall of Thorin's chest behind him.

It was such unusual peace, such a luxury, that Kíli found he had to give up to it. When Thorin murmured, "Nakh tzad knegd," low and smooth, Kíli obeyed without a word or gesture of protest, moving to rest his arms atop the wood. His head sunk down onto them, as both Thorin's hands slipped from his sides to his back.

Having brushed Kíli's hair over his shoulders, out of the way, Thorin's first touches on his back were marginally too hard, and a whimper escaped Kíli's lips in surprise. An apologetic kiss was planted on his shoulder, and wet strands of hair brushed against his skin at the motion.

"You should have told me it was this bad," Thorin scolded him quietly, as he made a more gentle exploration. He tested the flesh methodically, as if Kíli's back were a grid, and he had to check each square, applying light pressure to detect the knots, listening for the soft hiss of breath when it hurt, or the twitch of Kíli's shoulder blades as he tensed in protest.

"I did not want to make a fuss," replied Kíli.

"And I do not want you in unnecessary pain." Thorin began to apply more pressure with his fingers, testing one of the sensitive areas.

A harsh intake of breath was his reward, and Kíli complained, "Tell me more about how you don't want me in pain?"

Thorin could not contain a chuckle. "You have twisted this body of yours carelessly. To fix this abuse, it will hurt, but I will take more care than you have."

"I know," came the soft response, and Kíli lay quiet for Thorin to help him.

As thoroughly as before, Thorin returned to the tender muscles of the younger dwarf's back, and began to unwind them. Deep rubbing, thorough kneading, pressing and manipulating to relieve the source of Kíli's pain, Thorin took his time over the task, determined that he would sleep easier that night.

Kíli had never been quiet, at any point in his life -not as a babe, nor as a rowdy tween; in battle he yelled, in love-making he keened. He was not quiet as Thorin pressed hard against nerves that screamed their protest, hot pain shooting through the muscles. When it got too much, he gave little groans into his arms, half-enunciated moans. But over time, the cries became less and less, and by the time the water was starting to cool, he was silent, boneless and limp against the wood.

At last, triumphantly, Thorin sat back on his haunches. "There we are."

Kíli's unenergetic response, was to shake his head slightly, against his arms. He was quite happy not moving, thank you very much.

Thorin laughed, a ringing, long-missed sound. "I see you have finally relaxed. Good."

Reluctantly, Kíli began to stir. "But Uncle, we didn't even get properly clean."

The solution to that was simple. "Well we shall be forced to bathe again tomorrow then. Come akhanaar. A soft bed is waiting for you tonight."

Translation:

akhanavah = dear brother

Atzar = Stop

Hishkyet = Relax

Nakh tzad knegd = Rest against the side

Akhanaar = dear boy