Kili took the book, very slowly, and he let it fall open in his hands. Despite the way some of the pages had been bent and crumpled, the book opened fluidly to a section close to the front, and Kili looked at the page, before looking up at Thorin, his whole face crumpled up unhappily.
"I can't get past this page." he said, in a way that meant so much more than what he was actually saying. There was a second when he looked likt he was going to pull the pook to him and not let go when Thorin carefully reached out to take it back, but he surrendered it.
Thorin turned the book and read the page silently, barely containing a flinch of his own at what was written. This had never been the most savoury of texts. He had seen it often enough, had read it often enough himself. Dwalin had carried a copy with him from he had turned 25 and was moving from childhood to Youth, until Erebor had fallen and the book had vanished from his possession. Thorin had often assumed it had been Balin who'd removed it, and he had been glad to see the back of it. This book was one of the very reasons he had agreed with Dwalin that they would avoid telling Kili he was a Battleborn for as long as possible. That they would give him a childhood that was not all battle and war and weapons.
He'd seen first hand what that had done to his friend, who had been taught nothing of the good parts of History but was always fed the horror stories of the Battleborn, as a warning of what he could become. But somehow Kili had found it out anyway, despite all of their best intentions.
"Kili." he began, closing the book on one of the more vicious tales of Battleborn Bloodlust. "You shouldn't be reading this book at all." he kept his voice as soft as possible.
Kili made a miserable sound. "But the others weren't like this."
"Others?" Thorin asked in surprise. Kili had read more of these? "How long have you been reading things like this?" he asked, torn between horrified that a young child had been reading books like this, and pride that he had been reading books like this.
Kili gave him a wary look, before he shrugged. "Since my birthday."
Nearly six months. In Mahals name, why had one of them noticed.
"Some one called me a Battleborn." Kili confessed into the silence. "I didn't know what that meant, so I asked Mister Balin during lessons. He said it was a very brave warrior, who helped defend dwarven kingdoms. But he wouldn't tell me anything else."
"So you decided to find out." Thorin guessed.
Kili nodded uncertaintly, looking guilty. "I took a book from Mister Balin's library to find out. And it was just like he said, all stories about how brave they were and all the good things they did. But the book kept talking about Bloodlust. And I couldn't ask Mister Balin because then he would know I'd taken his book without permission, and I knew he'd be mad so I-" Kili's words had tumbled over each other, making himself even more upset with every extra thing he said.
"So you took another book instead."
Kili nodded, burying his face into the pillow and Thorin could see his shoulders shaking as he couldn't stop the tears. There was no flinch when Thorin reached for him this time, to gather him into his arms, the pillow abandoned so Kili could curl his fists into Thorins tunic, and the weight of keeping secrets and of knowing things no child should ever know poured out of him. They sat there, and Thorin searched frantically for something to say, some way to make this better.
He looked at the book, sitting innocuously on the bed, and he could see Kili again, head bent over the book, trying desperately to understand what he was reading, what it meant, and with every page his horror growing, until he couldn't read anymore, couldn't make himself turn another page only to find more horror waiting for him. But it was the fact that Kili had kept the book, kept going back to that page, like he thought maybe it would get better the more he read it. That made finding the words so difficult.
Finally Kili stopped crying, but Thorin didn't let him go, and Kili made no move to pull away.
"I'm sorry Uncle." came the small whisper, and within those three words Thorin heard every single thin Kili was sorry for, for taking the books without permission, for not doing what was expected of him, for being here, not being Fili, not being good enough.
"You are not allowed to use those words anymore." Thorin answered him. "Do you understand me. You are never allowed to say that again. Never." When he looked at Kili he was met by a wide, confused stare, and in the flickering candlelight he could see the faint outline of the slap he had delivered to his cheek. He reached a hand to brush over it, and Kili let him without pulling away. "It is I who is sorry Kili. I am so very sorry."
Kili looked at him, a long look, like he was searching for something in Thorin's face, and when he found it he settle back against Thorin's chest. "I'm tired Uncle." he said softly.
Thorin tightened his hold. "Then sleep." he said, running his fingers through the tangle of dark hair. There would be time tomorrow and everyday after to fix this. And he would, he promised, he would fix this, because the alternative was just not an option. It would never be an option.
He pressed a kiss to Kili's hair and sent a plea to Mahal for guidance.
