Fíli, the captain and the commander were startled when the door was abruptly opened and the elf entered the corridor from Kíli's room.
Legolas closed the door and stood with his forehead leaned towards the wood for a moment. Tears streamed from his face, and he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes to the intense pain of his breaking heart. His hands were in fists and his knuckles whitened under the strength as he hugged the door.
The three dwarves shared a look of discomfort as none of them were willing to interrupt the elf, and whatever he was doing. Fíli saw Legolas' shoulders rise and fall rapidly as he heaved for breath. The prince was uncertain of the situation, and yet he saw it as his responsibility, as future king, to be the first to speak.
«Legolas,» Fíli spoke, his steady voice revealing barely a trace of his uncertainty.
At the sound of his name Legolas turned abruptly, his movement sharp and his expression hostile. It took the elf a moment to realize where he was. As he again remembered his surroundings he stood tall in front of the dwarves, too proud to wipe the remaining tears off his face. The last of them ran silently down to his chin and continued to drip onto his uniform jacket.
«What happened?» Fíli ordered, assuming his might as king in waiting, now that he was highest in rank where they stood.
His mother had left to get some sleep, and Kíli and Thorin had gone on a walk with Kíliel, Erebor's young heir, leaving Fíli in charge in case Legolas exited the room before they returned. Fíli had greeted the opportunity to take charge for once with graceful excitement. Even if he tried, it was not always easy to act mightily and worthy in front of his uncle, who had prepared him for the day he would assume the throne. Fíli felt it was a long way yet before he was ready to rule, even if he spent all his waking time readying himself. This opportunity might prove important, as well as he was eager for something else to do, rather than observe his brother's newfound family from a distance.
Legolas watched Fíli with distaste for a moment, before he lowered his eyes and exhaled, as if making a difficult decision. The elf straightened himself again, and met the prince's eyes with a determined expression.
«I will honor our agreement. My father will know nothing of Tauriel and Kíli, nor their child. You have my word.» Legolas' lips twitched slightly. He pressed them shut.
«You have our everlasting gratitude,» Fíli said, astounded. He had expected nothing so honorable of the elf. «You are a mighty prince of lesser kings.»
Legolas looked at Fíli with a sad gaze, before turning from him to walk back the way they had come. «Farewell, young Prince of Erebor.» He called back as he took swift steps through the corridor and disappeared through the archway.
«Wait,» Fíli was startled. He had not thought their encounter would be so brief. There were things he was still curious about.
Fíli looked back and forth between Legolas, walking away from him, and the commander and captain, who stood with now quizzical expressions awaiting orders. Fíli ordered them to stay put, while he turned to follow Legolas out of the corridor with a rush.
«Legolas, stop! Where are you going?» Fíli's voice echoed, puzzled and demanding at his entrance of the Hall of Kings as he caught up with the elf. Legolas had not noticed the prince following him, and turned abruptly in the middle of the grand hall at the sound of his name. Legolas' expression showed a hint of desperation he had tried to keep hidden from the dwarves. Now Fíli saw the hunched stance of the elf, and it saddened him.
«I'm leaving, for the woods call me home. I do not belong here.» Legolas had a sound of sadness in his voice as he lowered his eyes. He wished Fíli would let him leave without anymore problems. He had no more will to fight, and wished for nothing but to leave this place called 'The Kingdom under the Mountain'. He cared no longer for any of it, no matter what his father or anyone else said. «Keep your valuable rocks, no elf will come for it again. It is what you want. Leave it at that. I do not care for any of it any longer.»
«Why do you leave so suddenly? Not many hours ago you begged to stay.» Fíli held out his arms in a peaceful gesture, and walked a few paces closer to Legolas. His steps echoed in the great room. The sound of it was sharp to his own ears. Fíli noticed Legolas' troubled mind and didn't want to upset him further, so he stopped, midway between Legolas and the grand tapestry of Dúrin.
«It is not important. I give up; I have nothing more to say about any of it.» Legolas muttered, his brows creased in an involuntary hopeless expression. He stroked a hand over his head, full of thought. His white braid was tangled and worn from the day's happening, and his hand tried to straighten his rebellious hair.
«What did she say?» Fíli's curiosity was getting to him, but he also felt a strange need to help Legolas with his grief. «Please; what made you change your mind so abruptly?»
«It is none of your business.» Legolas spoke angrily, then his expression softened and his eyes grew sad again. «Why do you even care?»
«I will not insult you by lying and say I care for your well being, but I care for my bother and his lover's happiness. I understand you have a history with her, and so I would assume she is faring no better than you are right now. Friends should not depart on bad terms, especially not lifelong friends.»
«Then what will you have me do?» Legolas shouted suddenly. «She does not accept my love, and I cannot give her the friendship she craves. Tell me, 'great Prince of Erebor', how can you help me?»
Legolas turned away from Fíli. He held a hand in front of his eyes, feeling all the emotions wash over him. The sound of his voice echoed throughout the hall for a long while, and he regretted the outburst at once. It was not how he was, not how he wanted to be. The words drained him as he heard them repeated back to him.
Fíli took a step back, and watched Legolas while he spoke his hard words. The elf looked small in the middle of the room, surrounded by the statues of Fíli's forefathers, who stood tall and proud beside each other against the walls, with great beards, armor, and arms of hewn stone.
At once he knew Legolas was right. He did not know how he could help, but it would not stop him from trying. Fíli had been useless too much these past two days, and he was done with it.
«Why?» Fíli simply said. When Legolas looked at him with a confused expression, he added: «Why can you not give her friendship?»
«Because…» Legolas found himself short of words as he was about to explain it to the dwarf. The tile-laid floor beneath his feet reflected his own dumfound expression as he looked down. «There is… too much history between us.»
«Humor me. If I can not help you after, you are free to leave Erebor and never return; but if there is a possibility that I can help you keep your dearest friend, is it not worth forgetting for a moment that we hate each other?» Fíli half smiled, and took a couple steps closer to Legolas.
The elf watched him with a skeptical look as he considered the suggestion. He pressed his lips together, and sighed.
.
Kíli and Thorin walked in silence through the corridors.
The silence was laying thick between them. Thorin was confused, as he had thought the awkward tension was broken when he supported Kíli in front of Legolas, but it turned out to be tougher than he had expected. There were still so many things keeping them from the relationship they had once had. It saddened Thorin.
In his arms Kíli held Kíliel, still wrapped thoroughly in blankets, hiding her little face so not even Thorin had caught a real glimpse. Despite all that had happened because of her, Thorin was curious about the little bundle, and yearned to behold that which he reckoned to be his own grandchild.
Thorin watched Kíli as he held his daughter. His nephew's eyes were soft and full of love with a slight smile on his lips, and Thorin suddenly realized the new side of Kíli he had never thought he would see. As he watched his nephew it was like the boy's life flashed before the king's eyes. From the first time Thorin held him in his arms, to the day Kíli had begged to come with him on the mission for Erebor. Thorin had never seen him as anything but a boy, as his reckless son. Had Kíli grown so suddenly, without him realizing it?
This idea shook Thorin to the very core, and he watched his feet in astonishment. It was a strange thing, growing up.
As they walked further down through the corridors of his realm, Thorin began to reminisce about all those years ago when he was nothing but a boy himself, worry free and adventurous like his nephew. Many times had he walked these corridors since his victory and reclaiming of the realm, yet it would remain in his mind the perfect place of his childhood.
Thorin had used to run these halls, chase his brother and pick on his sister. Thorin could hear the sweet laughter of care-free children, the sound of wooden swords beating upon each other, and their mother's bickering. Those were the easy days, before the dragon, before all the deaths. After that the times changed quickly, and before he knew it, he was a young boy at twenty-four, forced into adulthood years before his time by the attack of a dragon, with a homeless people, and the responsibility for his siblings heavy on his shoulders, for their distant father. He felt the resentment for his own fate as he blamed his father for his absence.
Thorin knew that not all children were forced to grow up as early as he had, and that in his mind, he still treated Kíli like an irresponsible boy. At once he realized he had unconsciously prevented the boy from growing up, because he knew in his heart the trouble that adulthood brought. Yet it was Thorin himself that had caused all the trouble these past few hours, forcing his nephew to grow into the role as a father. And so, what he now needed to do was to see his nephew for the dwarf he really was, and get to know him as a grown man.
First step would be to speak with him with the respect he deserved.
Thorin cleared his throat, causing Kíli to look at him with alert eyes. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before Thorin returned to look where they walked.
«It has been years since we won back our kingdom, yet I still find it strange to walk these halls again,» Thorin began in a desperate attempt to start a flow of conversation. «So many years it took for us to return, the hope of it almost withered within my dreams. But, look, here we walk again along the paths of our forefathers. I am glad that you got to see it for yourself, you and your brother. You only ever heard the stories we old-ones liked to tell. I always feared we would not do it justice.»
«You told it well, uncle,» Kíli responded, his thoughts growing rapidly lighter by Thorin's choice of a subject that was treasured by him. «When at last we came here I already knew all the halls and chambers by heart; it was like you had told us, and even more glorious.»
Kíli half-smiled at the memories of all the nightly storytellings of his uncle. Every one of them was a detailed retelling of the business' of the dwarves of Erebor, and the halls in which they carried out their lives; funny tales of mischievous children, told when Kíli and his brother had been exceptionally naughty, or fabled stories of the monsters of the deep halls, always told to scare the brothers from walking off into caverns or secret tunnels when they were little.
Kíli still reveled in these stories, and looked forward to the times when he himself would be able to tell his own daughter about them. Though, he realized, she might not be growing up in this mountain at all. The thought saddened him suddenly, and he couldn't meet his uncle's eyes.
Thorin did not notice his nephew's sinking heart, and continued to walk cheerfully, a contempt smile on his face. «They are as I remember them from my childhood.» He stopped and turned to look at Kíli, who in return kept his gaze firmly at the bundle in his arms. «I had always hoped I could share this place with you, walk these halls and rule this kingdom with you by my side.»
At this Kíli lifted his head and met Thorin's eyes with sadness clear in his face. «And now?»
Thorin was taken aback by this sudden change, and he realized his own mistake by words. Indeed, what now? He had not thought of it at all since the dealings with Legolas, and watching his nephew now, his heart grew sad at the thought of banishment. He would not think of it yet, first he wanted to see the girl who had brought so much trouble to his home.
«May I see her?» Thorin said after a moment of silence, and he held out his arms towards Kíliel.
At first Kíli was hesitant, unsure why Thorin suddenly wanted to see her, but nonetheless he handed her over carefully into his arms. After all, Thorin was the only father he had ever known, as he had taken that responsibility after his real father had died, weeks before his birth. He trusted Thorin with his life, even after all that had happened.
Thorin's heart beat harder and harder in his chest, as he felt the light weight of the child within the bundle. Kíli helped his uncle by removing the cloth which covered the little face of his daughter. He took a step back to surveillance, granting them the room for privacy at their first meeting. Kíli felt a tingling feeling of anxiousness, though what he saw caused him greater joy than anything before.
Thorin was transfixed. Seeing the sleeping girl in his arms, the flaming red hair of her mother, and the full lips and pout so characteristic of the line of Durin, gave Thorin an unexpectedly large amount of joy. It caused him to smile wider than he had allowed himself in a long while. He saw so much of Kíli in her, and he was transferred back to the first moment Thorin held him in his arms, so many years ago. Unlike her father, Kíliel had both her mother and her father, and Thorin realized he would never make them separate. The wee lass deserved her family united, as so few of them had ever experienced. He wanted for nothing but the happy, care-free childhood of this little girl.
Thorin touched the lock of hair covering her face, and by it caressed the soft skin of her forehead. He was afraid he would hurt her with his big fingers. His fist alone was bigger than her head, and so he touched her with great care. As he removed the lock he saw one of her ears, soft and pointy. He chuckled lightly, for he had never expected to find it cute, though it was. He would be interested to see how she would grow, and how the characteristics would melt together into a woman. Kíliel reminded him of his sister when Dís was newborn, though he could hardly imagine a dwarven version of his sister as she was today.
The thought made him laugh silently, and the stirring must had awoken the little child, for at that moment Kíliel opened her eyes and looked at him, her eyes big and green. Her little mouth opened, and Thorin expected her to cry out, but she only cooed, and her mouth curved into a sweet smile. Thorin gazed at her, as if hypnotized and his granddaughter held his gaze for a long while. She stretched out her tiny hand, and Thorin let her take his forefinger, which she couldn't even get her hand around for the size. Thorin laughed softly, and Kíliel responded by squinting her eyes and opening her mouth in an excited smile.
At that moment a bond was created, unlike anyone would ever had expected, least of all Kíli. He stood a few steps away, watching the meeting with a surprised expression causing his mouth to fall open, before his lips curled into a blissful smile. It was as he had wished, and lost all hope for hours before.
At that moment Kíli found his faith again, for both his happiness and his uncle's love.