Summary: ... and things were going so well.


Turnbuckle

Shortly after her near-catastrophic encounter at sea, the Oakenshield hobbled into port for repairs before she fell apart under their feet. The Grey Pilgrim trailed behind them, though Thorin ignored its presence as often as possible. He was still bitter about Gandalf hailing them two days earlier and insisting they stop at Rivendell, the reedy fishing town nestled between unforgiving cliffsides that now stood before them. Thorin harbored a cold resentment for the Sicilian coast and its people, who maintained strict borders and had been inhospitable toward strangers in recent decades since the Barbary Coast had erupted with hostile activity.

He voiced his concerns again now, where he stood next to the rail with Balin, Nori, and Bofur and gazed over the delicate architecture of the little town while Fili and Kili and some members of the rigging crew hauled them to dock.

"The pirate is Italian, you know," Bofur pointed out lightly.

"True," Thorin said with just a hint of a chuckle. "And he finally proved to be useful, after all." Balin laughed outright, but Bofur had to force a smile.

"He'd always be useful if you'd listen to him," Kili muttered darkly.

"Kili," his brother's voice was a low warning in his ear. Kili rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He gave the line another heave and twisted it around a cleat.

Thorin didn't notice the exchange. He turned to Nori. "We can't be held up here for long. Bofur will have as many men as he needs in order to complete repairs quickly and efficiently."

"We're not expecting it to take more than a week," Bofur supplied helpfully.

Thorin nodded and turned back to Nori. "Can you have a course charted by then?"

He could, of course. In a week, Nori could have six different paths mapped out between here and the Lonely Harbor, each varying to accomodate weather, conflict, visibility, and detours for supplies. This brought a potential problem to Kili's mind, which he voiced to no one in particular as he began tightening his knot.

"Are we planning on sneaking up, then, or barging straight in?"

Thorin turned back with a bemused frown. He swept an arm toward the coast before them. "They've seen us coming, plain as day."

Kili glanced up from his bowline with a frown. "No, no, I mean Smaug," he said. He gave one of his men a nod, asking him silently to finish with the knot so he could give Thorin his full attention. "I mean when we get to the Lonely Harbor."

Thorin considered him for a moment. "We'll stay out of sight when we arrive. Decide how best to retrieve the Arkenstone."

"And grandfather," Kili prodded, stepping closer.

The air around them seemed to solidify. Thorin scowled, and Balin answered for him.

"We don't even know if Thrain still lives, lad."

"But he could," Kili plowed on, despite his brother's hand on his elbow. "You don't know. Or do you?" he asked, slightly stunned when the thought crossed his mind. "What happened to the Arkenstone, how was it lost to begin with? What happened at Azanulbizar?"

"You wouldn't understand," Thorin said, his jaw twitching dangerously.

"I'm a part of this crew, same as anyone. What do you mean I wouldn't understand?"

Thorin whirled around to face Kili with a menacing snarl, looking for all the world as if he were chipping at the edges, barely held together. "I mean you're naive, Kili! You know nothing of the world, or your family. You should show them some respect, and let them rest in peace."

"I want to respect my family, but how can I, if I don't even know them?! Why won't you tell us about Thror, or your father, or the Erebor? Why won't you talk about Frerin?"

"Frerin! Frerin was careless and irresponsible!" Thorin bellowed in a burst of crimson fury. "He threw himself into danger without thinking twice what it would do to the rest of us! He was reckless and it got him killed!"

Kili's limbs froze. He felt suddenly deflated, as if air had rushed out of his veins in a cold wave and left him rooted to the spot. He stared, shifting his gaze slowly between Balin, who looked sympathetic, Bofur, who fixed his eyes on his toes, and Thorin, whose ugly glower was carved out of rock.

"Bofur," Thorin said sharply, not taking his eyes off of Kili. They bored into him, even as the captain addressed his shipwright. "Find Gloin and meet me in my cabin. We'll discuss the details of materials necessary for your repairs. In private."

Kili swallowed, feeling small and faintly ill.

Thorin swept away then, his boots pounding across the deck, leaving a cloud of tension in his wake. Balin sighed heavily before following him.

Bofur looked as if he wanted to say something to the boys, but whatever it was tangled up on his tongue. He offered Kili an awkward pat on the shoulder before splitting off to find Gloin, the ship's merchant.

"Dammit, Kili," his brother growled, jostling past him, heading for the gangplank, and taking it at a trot. His words shook Kili from his reverie. He dashed after Fili and caught up to him on the dock, grabbing his wrist firmly.

"Fili, wait-what did I do? Don't tell me you agree with him!"

Fili turned a steely gaze over his shoulder. "What do you mean 'what did you do'? That was blatant disrespect," his voice was iced over.

"All I did was ask a question!" Kili felt his chest tighten with the injustice.

Fili ignored his defense, but whipped around to face him squarely. "You keep expecting, hoping, begging Thorin to respect you, but look at how you act. You're a fucking whiny brat. Act like you deserve his respect and maybe you'll get it."

Kili clenched his jaw until it ached and his teeth could almost break. He breathed in and out loudly through his nostrils. His throat and his shoulders were red with bottled-up tension, burned with an anger only a brother's betrayal could fuel.

"Are you saying I don't deserve his respect?" Kili said, and he could feel his voice grate low and dangerous in his throat.

His brother glared, but didn't answer.

"Fili!"

"I didn't say that!"

"Sure sounds like that's what you want to say!" Kili retorted. "If you and Thorin both think I'm such a waste of space, then so be it. Maybe I'll fucking stay here when you sail off for that godforsaken spit of land he calls home."

"It's our home, Kili!"

A high, humorless bark of laughter cut through Kili's throat. "Oh, it's ours, is it? Tell me something then, Fili. What does it look like?"

Fili's scowl deepened.

"Tell me, who lives next door?" Kili couldn't stop. He could watch the words cascade from his lips and he could chase after them but it would always be too late. "Can you see the ocean from your window? Did Ma ever cook you dinner there? What was it like when she tucked you into bed at night in this so-called home of ours?"

"Shut up!"

"And then tell me something else, Fili," Kili plowed on. "Tell me-if this home is so great, and if it's your home, too-why won't Thorin tell you anything about it? If it's so important, why hasn't he got it back?"

"It's not that simple!"

"Why won't he just fucking admit all the sacrifices he's made for it, and how they've all been for nothing?"

The very snarl on Fili's lips was lethal. He lurched forward, then twisted awkwardly, his neck stiffened at a crooked angle, catching himself barely a foot from Kili's nose. Kili could hear him exhale hot through his nostrils and feel the crescendo of a growl deep in his chest. Poison laced Fili's glower. All the muscles in his face and his shoulders twitched and his hands opened and closed around nothing, around imaginary victims. Kili licked his lips and felt his stomach roil when a toxic smirk pulled at the corners of Fili's mouth.

"Good to know you don't give a shit about your own family, Kili," he said, each syllable a cold needle against Kili's skin. "Go ahead and fucking stay here. And how about you tell me, when your family's all a hundred leagues across the ocean, where will your home be, then?"

His words shattered like glass around their feet, a trap, a warning not to follow. He gave Kili one last appraising look, a sneer molded to his features, and spun on his heel, making a bid for the nearest pub or tavern-probably the nearest place to drink away the memory of Kili's stupid outbursts. All of them-all the outbursts from his past and all the future outbursts for which he would inevitably pay penance.

Warnings be damned, but Kili could hardly ruin things more than they had already been ruined so he followed after his brother, pounded the cobbled street, always gaining, never catching up. Fili was a firecracker in the crowd-those who didn't see his stormy glare or his unrelenting stride and immediately steer clear, he simply shoved to the side; the crowd parted for Fili like sparks darting from a flame and Kili had only to ride the ashes of its wake.

He didn't watch where they were going, but soon Fili's feet thundered across a wooden porch and up a shoddy set of steps and Kili's heart sank with a grim self-loathing and the pang of regret that he should have seen this coming.

Kili stared after his brother, a sick twist of betrayal smoldering in his guts. He felt the shrill pricks of his fingernails in his palms, burrowing there until they would leave marks. He wanted to tear his hair out, to draw blood. It didn't matter whose.

Kili looked up into his brother's sneer. Fili let out a cruel bark of laughter. "Coming to the whorehouse, baby brother?"

Involuntarily, Kili's lips twitched-pulled back from his teeth in a shocked snarl.

Fili stood there on the crooked stoop holding the door open with a smug glower. Kili's mouth hung open stupidly, and he stared at Fili as if he would reveal the punch line to his joke, but of course he wouldn't; he wasn't the Fili who defended Kili from ignorant threats, or held his hand during surgery, or wiped away his tears, or the Fili who was so patient teaching him rudimentary cartography, or joked with Kili good-naturedly in order to keep him grounded and sober. He was just a conceited 23-year-old with the heavy artillery only an older brother can fire with precision.

Kili felt his ears and the corners of his eyes heat up. He sucked in those waves of judgment and hoarded them in his chest where they could fuel an ugly resentment and, worse, where they could infect his joints with something potent and indignant and reckless. He took a shaky breath and scrubbed his face and pressed his knuckles into his eyes until he saw bursts if light.

Fili laughed again, a cold sound that stung Kili's sternum.

"So?" Fili prompted. "Is sweet Kili going to grow up tonight or hide in his bunk?"

"Lead the way," Kili said, the echo of the old pet name grinding against his skull. "You're the expert on whorehouses."

Fili's mouth curled in a smug sneer. "I am, aren't I? Fuck, I'd rather be an expert than a novice. They can spot first-timers a mile off."

"I'm not-" Kili cut himself off with a growl.

Fili snorted and spun to enter the brothel. And without a shred of doubt that he would regret the action the next day, Kili followed him.

He would have drifted into a corner with a drink and a scowl and endured the evening hiding in the shadows, but Fili had other plans. He strode for a table in the center of the main hall where Nori was celebrating with some of their crew, and the looks Fili continually shot over his shoulder plainly said that he expected Kili to follow him.

Kili managed to situate himself in a rickety chair facing the exit, and not the workers. It only helped a little; it didn't take long for their table to become popular. Fili and Nori were attractive, after all, and the more they drank, the more attention they demanded.

Kili pulled his chair up close to the table to make sure his lap remained unavailable (Fili's was already full of a busty brunette who giggled a lot, no matter what Fili said). He spent what felt like ages focused on the layer of foam on his ale, occasionally offering a laugh for Nori's jokes, an eye-roll for Fili's, and a pursed smile for every young woman who directed more than a glance his way.

After two rounds of drinks, Nori disappeared into a back room. Kili waved the server away once more, but Fili didn't. He'd moved on to whiskey by the time the moon was high in the sky and Kili was wide awake and the massive crowd of patrons was getting louder and drunker and bolder. The atmosphere began to stretch Kili's nerves apart.

A warm, frothy irresponsibility settled over their table and blurred their vision and Kili knew he could escape easily, if he wanted to, and Fili would never notice or remember. It would just be a matter of slipping around behind Fili's chair and shrugging off the girls and charging his drinks to his brother's tab, which was the least he deserved.

But Kili could wait. In the past, he'd been called upon in an unspoken agreement to babysit his brother when he drank and danced and bought women at taverns. More than once, he'd dragged Fili back to the Oakenshield just after sunrise in a sick, sorry state so as not to hold up the crew in their departure. It was only fair; Fili did the same for Kili, when he drank so much he was tripping over nothing at all and trying to punch holes through walls and spitting at every mild insult offered his way.

Against his will but for the sake of his better judgment, Kili stayed. He gently slid Fili's pistol out of reach when Fili started to become incoherent and rowdy. Out of spite, he kept ordering drinks for both of them and passing his own along to his brother. Kili relished the image in his mind of Fili retching in a dark alley, or better-in bed with that obnoxious brunette. She was still giggling when they left for the crowd of girls. Her incensant cackle rang in Kili's ears long after they had gone.

After a few minutes alone, Kili rationalized that waiting outside in fresh air would probably benefit his health and patience, but he was interrupted before he could so much as push his chair back. A long red fingernail drifted into Kili's line of sight, tracing the rim of his half-full mug. He frowned. The hand slid from his mug to his wrist, then his forearm, and then his elbow. Finally, he processed what was going on, and grabbed the woman's hand to stop its progress. He looked up, a frown pulling at his eyebrows and an ill discomfort settling in his stomach.

She wasn't attractive. That is, Kili didn't find her attractive; maybe Fili would disagree, but even if he tried, Kili couldn't stir any interest for her swollen scarlet lips or her disheveled chestnut locks or the kohl smeared around her crooked spider-legged eyelashes.

"Kili, isn't it?"

A ragged breath shook in Kili's chest.

"Your brother sent me," she added as if that was the answer he wanted, the answer he was looking for. She smiled and bit her lip as she looked him up and down.

Kili searched the tavern wildly, but his brother was nowhere in sight. Because of course, by now, he'd be somewhere private. The thought made bile rise in Kili's throat.

"There must have been a mistake," he gritted out tonelessly.

"Oh, I don't think any girl could make a mistake with you, handsome," she winked and raised her eyebrows.

Kili felt a high-pitched protest burning behind his nose. "No. I mean, yes-yes, they really would. I don't want-I'm just going to stick to the bar, thanks."

"Then why come in here, silly?" she asked, sliding closer.

"I just wanted a drink," Kili said, his voice jumping to an embarrassing octave. "Really, I'm not after any girls."

The woman raised her eyebrows and slowly looked him up and down, her stare so lascivious and scrutinizing that he could feel it grope at the buttons and the laces of his clothing. He shuddered and leaned back farther.

The woman stood up straight, cleared her throat pointedly, and angled a hand on her hip. "Maybe you'd prefer Francesco?" she said with another drawn-out wink. She swept a hand toward the bar, where a lean olive-skinned man perched on a stool and carried on begging the bartender for another free ale.

Kili's mouth went dry. "Oh, God, I-no, it's not ... no. No thank you."

She leaned in close and Kili could smell powder and alcohol and too-strong perfume. "It's fine, you know. It's not uncommon. We have a lot of men come in looking for other-"

"I said no," Kili barked and pushed himself back sharply from the table. His beer slipped off the edge and spilled across his lap and seeped, lukewarm and uncomfortable, into his crotch and one leg of his trousers. With a wordless shout of frustration, he leapt from his chair and stumbled a little, tossing his drink to the ground so the last dregs of it flecked across the floorboards and the poor working-girl's shoes.

He buried his fingers in his hair and looked up at her in a desperate half-apology. She cocked an eyebrow, her lip slightly curled and thoroughly unimpressed. The edges of fury and shame and fear tingled in Kili's chest and he swallowed down another noise because his frustration would probably come out in a horrible, humiliating sob and he looked young and pathetic enough as it was, falling over himself like this in the middle of the fucking whorehouse.

"My brother will pay," he mumbled, addressing her toes because her eyes bored into him with this unforgiving smirk that crushed his lungs. He escaped with his tail between his legs, leaving his dignity on the floor in a puddle of spilled ale.


"What the fuck, Fili?!" Kili cried. He dove at his brother, grabbed at fistfuls of his shirt, and shoved him back against the alley wall.

Fili scrabbled at his brother's hands, dug his nails into Kili's shirt and pulled him close. A strong dark beer mixed with harder liquor hung on his breath when he slurred, "What, Kili? What're you gonna to do, fight me? Challenge me?!"

Kili's lip curled and revulsion twisted in his guts. His knuckles shook against Fili's collarbone and suddenly, inexplicably, he wanted nothing more than to hurt him, to watch Fili bleed under his hands, because how dare he bring that up, how dare he taunt Kili now, in a dark alley that reeked of bitter alcohol and how dare he poke at barely-healed wounds, never mind resurrecting old ghosts in the form of cheap barmaids wearing low-cut rags?

Kili could feel his fingernails in his palms, even through the threads of Fili's shirt, and he snarled and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to hang on to some semblance of self-control. "I'm not going to fucking duel you, Fili," he growled.

"Then let me go," Fili said coldly, wrapping his fingers around Kili's wrists until the fine bones there ground together.

Kili winced and gave his brother's chest another hard shove-felt Fili's lungs deflate under his hands and allowed himself that grim satisfaction. He bit down hard on his tongue until it went numb.

"Gladly," he said. His voice was scratched steel. "You're disgusting," he spat. "How many people did you have to pay to sleep with you tonight?"

It was low and Kili knew it, that awful insult that ripped through his lungs. They were just words he invented to wield like a knife, to see how deep he could cut, to see how much pain he'd have to inflict to make his own go away.

Ever so slightly, the solid stone of Fili's expression crumbled. Or maybe it was a trick of the light. Kili couldn't tell if the cracks in that facade were apologetic or signs of some deeper wound; if Kili's words had battered long enough at the rock to break it apart. Kili took a step back and realized he was panting.

It was as if a branch of remorse got tossed onto the fire in Kili's chest along with all the fury and hurt and humiliation. He noticed it there, and it flared up brighter than the rest for just a second, but it burned, all the same.

"Fuck you," Fili mumbled, no longer eloquent enough to properly defend himself. "Least they want to sleep with me."

Kili backed up again when Fili paled and bent at the waist, his eyes wide. Fili cursed, groaned, clutched his stomach.

A sneer curled Kili's lips. "Does brave Fili need help getting to his bunk tonight?"

"Piss off."

Kili was more than happy to comply.


Kili spent most of his time during the week with Bofur, who had ordered supplies and begun his massive overhaul of the Oakenshield to repair her heavy damages. The shipwright and his men patched up the hull, reinforced the keel and the masts, fixed her up with fresh tar, re-rigged the sails from bow to stern, pulled the standing rigging tight and looped the running rigging through new hardware. The bowsprit had to be replaced entirely, a project that ate up most of their week.

Kili joined his rigging crew to re-tie knots and fasten shrouds and string up sails. It was grunt work, nothing complex, nothing that really required Kili's skill or attention, but no one mentioned as much. In fact, everyone avoided actively addressing Kili's presence. It remained an awkward, unspoken footnote on their hours of labor.

News of Fili's and Kili's row spread like wildfire, especially among the young gossips of the crew. That's assuming any gossip was required, to begin with; any other time, the brothers would be thick as thieves, especially given free reign on land. They came as a pair, an inseparable unit in the minds of anyone who knew them, so it didn't take much hostility between them to rouse suspicion.

The moment Fili started locking himself up with Nori for meals, the sharper minds of the company began to talk. Then, the following night, Fili was assigned to one of the latest, darkest watches, and when Kili holed himself up below deck even when the stars were brightest, refusing to leave his bunk until morning, it was obvious that something had come between the brothers.

At one point, Fili had stomped below deck with food in hand and offered a serving to his brother, who turned up his nose without giving it a second glance.

"I don't need your charity," he'd said.

And Fili had snorted at that. "I don't give a shit if you ever eat, but Bombur sent this specifically for you. If it's not good enough for precious Kili, you can go tell him yourself. You've gotten good at disrespecting your elders, after all."

After a beat of stunned silence, Kili had snatched the food from Fili and dashed for the ladder to escape the stares of their now phenomenally uncomfortable crew mates.

Bofur and his crew finished their work at mid-morning on seventh day. Everyone could tell Thorin wanted to set sail immediately, but he was persuaded-perhaps by Balin, perhaps by indisputable reason-to give them the evening to rest. It was agreed upon, then, that the Oakenshield would depart at dawn the next morning. Most of the crew celebrated by partaking one last time in all that Rivendell had to offer-particularly its food and wine.

The following morning at daybreak, Kili was awake and hauling docklines and bidding a silent, slightly dizzy farewell to land. The night before was almost all a blur in his memory. He'd been at a warm, cozy tavern with Bofur and Dwalin, and he remembered getting riotously drunk and throwing food and singing some utter nonsense with Bofur. He remembered giving Bofur a leg up onto the table to dance, and almost falling on his ass when he tried to help Bofur back down. And he remembered leaving the tavern and running into-

"Gandalf!" Kili's shout of recognition had been delayed, but confident.

Gandalf had chuckled around the stem of his long pipe so that smoke furled in ribbons around his face. "Kili, my good lad. You look like you can barely carry yourself upright."

Kili had happily agreed, but not fallen over, which he'd pointed out proudly and rather redundantly. This had amused Gandalf to no end. Most of their conversation was fuzzy in Kili's memory, but he did remember a brief flash of sobriety when Gandalf brought up Fili.
Kili hadn't seen him all day, which he pointed out, but Gandalf wouldn't let him change the subject.

"Do you feel bad about what you said to your brother?"

Kili had thought about his answer until it gave him a headache-which, granted, was probably just under fifteen seconds-and then mumbled a rather incoherent response.

Gandalf had hummed in understanding and looked up at the sky. Kili had followed his gaze and almost fell backwards trying to get the stars to stop spinning.

"Nothing good ever comes from siblings fighting," Gandalf had said.

"Yeah, but nothing good ever comes out of Fili's mouth, either," Kili had answered, then laughed at himself.

"There's nothing quite as potent as a row between brothers," Gandalf had said, kind enough to ignore Kili's stupidity. "The sons of Cronus defeated the Titans together, but they had to divide the earth in three, in the end, just to come to an agreement."

"Me and Fili aren't gods."

Kili couldn't remember what Gandalf had said after that, if he'd said anything at all.


-o-

Author's note: it's nanowrimo! The good news is, I'm including this story in my word count, so maybe I'll get to update more than once a month! I don't think there are 50K MORE words in this story, but honestly, I don't know anymore.

At any rate, thanks to those of you who are sticking with me despite the length between updates :)

Oh, how about all that glorious desolation of smaug stuff?! Did Ed Sheeran RUIN anyone else's life?