Chapter Nine
Too Deep to Mend


When Thorin woke the next morning, both Dís and Fíli were gone. He searched the yard, the shed, even the forest. Nothing. When he came back to the front of the cottage, he found Kíli on the stoop, knees drawn up. It was the first time Thorin had seen him so still. Going to the boy, Thorin lifted him onto the casement so the two of them could see eye to eye.

"Kíli, do you know where I can find your mother?" He received a sullen headshake as his answer. "How about your brother?"

It was then that Kíli's countenance, usually so cheerful, cracked. He sniffed. "Y-yes."

Anxiety pricked Thorin's heart, and the restless dread he'd felt building since his conversation with Dís surged. "Where is he, then?"

"He's working."

That made no sense. Only yesterday, Fíli told him they didn't fire the forge anymore. Yet in that implication, there was something… It was making Thorin's heartrate rise. His fears from last night suddenly seemed much more concrete, so terribly plausible. "Kíli," he said. "There are some questions I need to ask you, and they are very serious."

The riotous child from the forest clearing had gone. Instead, Kíli wore an expression more like his brother's, too old for his years. He set his hands on Thorin's forearms. "Okay."

The weight of them lent Thorin the strength to go on. "Where does Fíli work?"

"Coal mine," Kíli said, and without hesitation he added, "It's a bad place."

As the words washed over him, at first Thorin wanted to disbelieve them. "Fíli is very young," he rasped. Much too young to be in any mine, let alone those squalid pits men called collieries.

Kíli misunderstood and nodded in agreement. "He can fit in tight spaces."

"When did he start working there?"

"After Da went away but didn't come back," Kíli said, and his nose scrunched with disdain. He stated plainly, "I didn't like Da."

Thorin knew the piercing sensation of a knife wound; he had felt it many times before, and yet it had never been so painful as this. Víli had been his friend. He'd held up a toast for him on his sister's wedding day. "Oh?"

He didn't know, couldn't know, that Kíli had been walking a long road to this confession. The infant dimness of his mind was being put away, and though the trappings of maturity were new, he was beginning to understand the meaning of the whispers, the bruises, the terrible secrets. It made him able to say, with perfect certainly, "He was bad to Fíli." There was clearly no worse condemnation he knew, and his small fists bunched with anger.

"Why?" It was the cry of Thorin's whole heart.

Kíli thought about this before he answered, but in the end all he could do was shake his head. "I don't know."


Low hanging branches stung Thorin's face and arms, but those little pains were nothing compared to the ache in his heart. A black box had been opened, one storing memories of how his grandfather changed in the years before the dragon. If what he'd been told about Dís was true, this would not be the first time he'd discovered a capacity for depravity in his line. And though he wanted to believe that Kíli's hurried words had been an exaggeration, he dared not hesitate to act. So he covered the miles as quickly as he could.

Pushing through the last trees, the carpet of pine needles gave way to an open space of rutted paths. Amidst the pungent odor of raw earth, there were outbuildings, stacks of coal, and loaded wagons ready for hauling. Somewhere unseen, he heard the braying of mules.

The miners who saw him emerge from the forest stopped what they were doing. He was out of place, and they couldn't help but notice. One approached. "Looking for work?"

Thorin masked his emotion. Since he had been driven from Erebor, no job had been too low. He'd slaved over forge and fulcrum, serving those far beneath him in ability and worthiness. Yet this place sickened him. With his naked eye he saw evidence of suffering. People with missing hands or feet. Dead-eyed children masked with filth. Men whose backs were already bent, though they weren't old. And despite his desire to find his nephew quickly, he prayed, 'Let me not find him here.'

"I didn't come for work. I'm looking for a boy."

The man scratched his chin. "This ain't that kind of place, in general. I mean, you might talk to one of the bosses in charge, but –"

Thorin felt gorge rise in his throat. "He is my nephew."

The miner looked thoughtful. "Dwarf children. Hardly see any of those these days. I thought they was kept holed up in their mountains."

He wasn't wrong. Dwarrow children were rare and precious. Thorin ached that his nephews had been neither treasured nor protected. 'You should have been raised in a nursery with toys crafted from silver. You should have learned diplomacy on my knee and heard stories of our ancestors while tucked into beds of soft down. You should have heard endearments in Khuzdul, not curses in this hissing Westron tongue.'

"He would be small, smaller than others of his age," Thorin went on. "His hair is fair, and he might have had a ring on his finger."

The man answered. "I know him. Drammer, and a damned good one. Has some kind of sense about when the tunnels ain't stable. Worth his weight in gold. If he don't get beat to death before he can pay off, anyway."

Thorin couldn't swallow, his throat was so dry. "Where can I find him?"

A shrug in the general direction of the farthest outbuildings. "Supposed to go down at daybreak, but I guess he didn't come yesterday. Thought Thorne was going to throw him down a shaft. He settled on something less permanent, though."

Thorin turned on his heel immediately.

"Hey," the man said before he could get far. "You taking him home?"

Thorin's declaration was like the rumble of earth shifting. "Yes."

The miner tipped his chin. "Good."

It took him a long time, longer than he liked, and by then his nerves were raw. Finally, though, Thorin reached an exposed stretch of earth near the center of the mineworks. There, a hitching post stood erect on a lonely piece of ground. Crouched at the base of it, one arm extended over his head, was Fíli. A cord bound his wrist. It forced him onto his toes, leaving his back and neck exposed. If Thorin had any question about what he was witnessing, it was cleared when the jackal of a man standing nearby turned from what he was doing and barked at the restrained boy with words too foul to name. Then, while Thorin watched, he raised a long, thin cane.

Later, Thorin wouldn't be able to recall what happened in detail. All he knew was that one moment he was striding forward, and the next the man called Thorne was squealing in the dirt like the swine he was. When he coughed, blood dribbled from his mouth and nose, and he gaped in bewilderment through red teeth like a dumb animal.

A man with a stubbled jaw and an air of authority shoved through the crowd that was gathering, as men came running from all parts of the camp. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

Thorin picked up the cane and broke it over his knee. He threw the pieces into the face of their master. Then he turned livid eyes on the new arrival. "Will you defend this pig, who brutalizes children?"

A murmur went through the onlookers. Their eyes, when they passed over Thorne, held no approval. The foreman read the charged atmosphere and took in Thorin's demeanor, ripe for violence. He asked, "Why are you here?"

"I came for what's mine." Thorin drew himself high, daring anyone to defy his will.

But the foreman wasn't a fool. He was an experienced miner and had worked with dwarves. He knew better than to stand between them and their treasure. "Take him then, if that's what you want. We'll have no trouble here."

"What you want and what you deserve are two different things," Thorin spat, but this filth and his kind was no longer his concern. He had another aim, one of infinitely greater importance. Turning his back on the crowd, he went to the little bundle of nerves and flesh huddled against the post. The cord parted under his knife, and Fíli sank to his knees. His eyes were wet, and he kept them turned away.

"Fíli," Thorin coaxed him gently. "Please, I'm here. Look at me."

Timorously, fearfully, the connection was made, but Fíli couldn't maintain it. His shoulders hunched, and his head went down. What he'd tried to keep secret was known, and he was ashamed.

"Oh, my nephew," Thorin said. He reached down and carefully lifted the lad into his arms. "I am so, so sorry."


He carried his nephew, not to the hostile cottage, but to the local tavern. The keeper gave him a disapproving look when he requested a bath. "It's barely midmorning."

Thorin didn't care about the time of day; he only knew he wanted to wash away the filth that mine had left. He felt the child shaking, still glued to his neck, and slammed a coin – a true gold coin – down on the counter. "A room, a tub, and a fire in the hearth. Rags and bandages as well."

The tavernkeeper's eyes rounded at the sight of the money, which he picked up gingerly as though it might disappear without careful handling. "As you wish, Master Dwarf."

In short order the steaming water stood ready, and Thorin set Fíli gently on his feet. He felt the boy's reluctance to withdraw from the close embrace and smoothed back his hair from his forehead. "It's alright," he promised. "I will not hurt you."

Thorin helped him undress with care. The soiled shirt lifted from the rawness of his back, first from one shoulder and then the other. It must have hurt, and yet Fíli gave no sign except to shudder when the fabric first peeled away from his skin. The welts were an ugly sight, raised and hot to the touch, but worse were the silver lines beneath them. Everything in Thorin revolted at the story they told, this evidence of his worst fears.

"Not all of these are from a cane," he said aloud.

Fíli answered as though he'd asked a question. "Víli used a belt."

Thorin's eyes closed. "Let me help you into the tub."

The water darkened quickly. Thorin used a rag, removing layer after layer. Beneath the grime, he found more than skin. Knees and shins, scraped raw. Nails cracked, sometimes to the beds. Scars, many of them. Worst of all was his stomach. When Thorin pressed against it, Fíli hissed.

"Does it hurt?"

His face pinched, Fíli took a few panting breaths. "And my back."

Thorin knew the weight of a loaded dram. He tried to imagine Fíli hauling it, but couldn't. The lad needed him to have a clear head. "Let me see your wrist. Can you move your fingers?"

Fíli flexed with an effort. Thorin wanted to be certain there was no damage to his ability to use his hand. As he was rotating the fingers, he noticed Fíli's palm. There was an ugly, pursed scar.

He felt a fresh flush of anger. "Is that pig responsible for this as well?"

The fingers twitched, a hesitation. "It was a nail, from the forge."

White hot rage, so intense that for a moment Thorin wasn't able to see. He remembered Kíli's words, "He was bad to Fíli,' and struggled with his emotion until he was able to speak in a more normal voice. He needed to hear this from Fíli's own mouth. "Did Víli hurt you?"

Suds had made a film over the warm water. Thorin was unaware that as Fíli stared into it, he wondered if any would ever know what lingered behind that broken reflection: the petty cruelties, the long shadow of a leather strap, the secrets unspoken between twin breaths on the few quiet nights. Fíli squeezed his eyes shut. "Sometimes."

In that moment, Thorin's last hopes that this had been a misunderstanding dissolved. The evidence was tracked before him, as clear as tool marks in the earth. The admission, which had come directly from Fíli's mouth, was irrefutable. Still, he struggled to master his irresolution. With every ounce of his flesh and bones, he did not want it to be true.

His hand found its way to his forehead. "How could it come to this?"

Fíli misunderstood him. And no wonder, they had been talking at cross purposes for so long. Grieved, he tucked himself closer together and admitted, "I should have gone to the mine before he left. Maybe he wouldn't have died."

Thorin's head snapped up, a growl rasping in his throat. "You had no fault in his death."

Fíli shook his head.

"It was an accident. Explain to me how you could have any part in it." And when even then Fíli did not speak, he exploded, "Fíli, you are a child. It was your father's duty to provide for you."

The water shivered. Fíli's voice had grown as thin as a soap bubble. "Víli wasn't my Da."

After so many shocks, it seemed impossible that there could be more. Though his lips had gone numb, Thorin managed to say, "What do you mean?"

But Fíli had been pressed beyond endurance. Whatever thin façade had held him together up until this point, it failed him now. Crumpling, he curling over in the bath. With a cracking voice, he pleaded with Thorin. "I don't want to say that word."

"What word?"

And all of a sudden, Thorin knew. The pieces clicked together, and he could see them, not as separate parts, but as one whole. Fíli was crying in earnest now. His tears shuddered down his cheeks and dropped into the bath water. "I'm sorry," was his cry.

"Oh, my lad." Thorin stood and took up a blanket. He lifted Fíli from the water and wrapped him warmly. Then arms reached around and drew the boy close. He laid his cheek on Fíli's hair. "Little one, you have done nothing wrong."

Fíli held on tight. "Mama. It's my fault."

"If she has blamed you for anything, than she was wrong." This was all he knew for certain. So many questions swarmed beneath the surface, questions for which he would have to find answers as soon as possible. What passed beyond even a shadow of doubt was that Fíli was innocent, though it seemed he had been convicted and sentenced all the same. For a long time, an embrace was all that either of them had strength for. Eventually, though, Fíli quieted. Then Thorin asked, "Does your mother beat you?"

Fíli pressed his forehead to Thorin's neck. "Only with her hand."

Thorin's mind shrieked, the gears protesting every wrenching movement that drew him closer to the truth. This was his sister, who as a child possessed eyes that sparked, just like Kíli. Who played games with twinkling gems pinched from under the noses of palace jewelers. Who pressed her cold feet into his back after a nightmare. He searched for something, anything that might mitigate this travesty. "Did she try to stop Víli?"

Fíli asked, "Why?"

Thorin could take no more. He drew a deep breath and pulled back. He wanted to look at Fíli face-to-face. "I swear that I will never lie to you. Do you believe me?"

Fíli had no reason to. It was clear that he had known nothing but faithless adults, ones who offered no security and still less tenderness. Yet despite everything, Fíli looked him in the eye, and – though his chin trembled – he nodded.

Thorin put every scrap of conviction into his voice, determined that what he said would be beyond doubt. "What Víli and your mother did was wrong," he said. "Even if you did many bad things, it would still have been wrong. But you weren't bad, Fíli."

When Fíli blinked, the his eyes brimmed with self-doubt. He asked, "How do you know?"

"Because I see you," Thorin answered. "You've loved your brother and taken care of him. You made sure he didn't go hungry, even when it meant great personal sacrifice. And despite how much others have wronged you, you're still good, still strong, still kind." He choked. "True and noble, like a seam of gold running through the mountain. I'm proud of you."

So many tears had already fallen, so many were still to come. Fíli made an attempt to contain them – Thorin could tell – but he didn't seem able to stop them. They wavered in his voice when he asked, "What will happen now?"

"I don't know," Thorin said honestly. Very gently, he touched their foreheads together. "But, no matter what happens, I stand by my first promise. You will not be alone."

Fíli inhaled on a long, ragged breath. He looked down at his hand, which still bore the ring Thorin had given him. Though he looked so frail, so shattered, it seemed to give him strength.

"I believe you."


Author's Note: Sorry for the short delay on posting this chapter. I cannot tell you how many times I rewrote some of the passages, and I was determined not to rush it. So you can prepare yourself, the next chapter will be the last. It's called "Ruin's Song".