Chapter 11

Kili's Thoughts

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit; I only play in Middle Earth and I do not profit.

Somewhere his world had been ripped apart and Kίli could not remember how or why. He knew it had something to do with the trip where Daisy had thrown him giving him a bad concussion. Not that he could really recollect that happening, but that's how Fίli had explained it. The raven-haired prince was certain there was more to the story, things that Fili had not told him; and that hurt because his brother never lied to him.

It was not just the cursed headaches or the spells of vertigo that bothered him. This went deeper, past the purely physical, down to the core of his being. There was an edginess that never went away, a thinly veiled anxiety lying just beneath conscious recall. Whenever he tried to remember, it was as if he were working on a puzzle where big chunks were missing. Plus the pieces he had never fit together because the shapes kept morphing and changing. It was just frustrating knowing there was something there but unable to grasp it.

Sometimes it seemed that the more he thought about that day, trying to recall the events, the worse the headaches became, as if his body were warning him away from discovering the truth. At that point, Kίli could only shove the nagging thoughts away, letting them slip back into the shadows of his mind until the physical problems diminished and he could once again try to remember.

Yet there was more, something that made the prince shy away from physical contact like his brother's hugs. At times just the thought of being touched made his skin crawl and his stomach churn. Kίli tried to mask that reticence around his family. Uncle Thorin was not too hard; as the dwarflings had aged his demonstrations of affection had dwindled. Now on occasion he would ruffle the boys' hair; but more likely he would slap the back of their heads when they did not live up to his rigorous standards. His mother, Dis, on the other hand, expected her daily shows of affection. But a quick hug or kiss on the cheek usually sufficed and Kili could generally manage that much.

The real problem was with his brother. Because the two had been inseparable, Fίli knew him better than he knew himself and could read his mind by an expression or a touch. Almost from the moment of Kίli's birth, Fίli had declared himself his baby brother's protector, thus he was often the one comforting Kίli through nightmares and thunderstorms, hurts and fevers. Many times Kili had cried on his brother's shoulder or spent the night curled close to Fίli when fears chased sleep away. Seeking comfort and support from his brother was almost a reflex. Now he felt an overwhelming need to avoid the intimacy that he had once craved. Whenever Fίli tried to pull him into a hug, he could feel his muscles tense. He tried to fight the urge because he had seen the pain in his brother's blue eyes when he flinched at a touch. Sometimes he managed to control it; but more often not.

While Kίli's reluctance for physical contact upset his brother, it also isolated him, effectively removing one of the major coping skills he had utilized his entire life. He could not even confide in his brother without risking some physical expression of comfort; and so he started keeping things to himself. They both knew it was happening, but neither were willing to broach the subject.

Kίli remembered life before the accident when he had been happy and cheerful, always enthusiastic, headstrong, and, as his mother said, reckless. Now those things were just too much effort for the youngest Durin. Pranks and practical jokes no longer interested him. There was no longer joy in tramping through the woods or climbing trees. Instead of being carefree, now he was filled with anxiety and unknown fear, headaches and dizziness.

Kίli had always thought he was a disappointment to his family, especially when compared to his golden brother. Fίli was smart, studious, responsible, and dedicated; just the opposite of Kίli, who was forever trying to live up to Thorin's standards, but falling short. And now, he felt awkward and out of place as if he did not even belong in his own family.

Kίli hated the dwarf he had become, and yet, he did not know how to change things back to the way they were before. Oin had been no help blaming everything on the concussion; and even if that were true, the healer had offered no solutions to help improve things. He needed to speak with the two dwarrow that might be able to help him understand what was happening.

Kίli stood in front of Bifur and Bofur's toy shop a long time before fighting down the urge to simply leave. When he finally did enter the shop, Bofur greeted him cordially.

"So ya finally decided ta come in, did ya?" Bofur flashed his trademark smile.

Kίli nodded, trying to decide how to word what he wanted to say.

Bofur eyed the prince, never having known Kίli to be tongue-tied before, except when he was in trouble. The dwarf's eyes widened beneath his ridiculous hat as a thought struck him.

"O lad, dinna tell me ya've done somethin' wrong and ya need me ta hide ya from Thorin, cause'n I...

Kίli shook his head before the toymaker could finish.

"Well, that's good then," Bofur beamed. After another awkward silence, he continued smiling. "Ya know, ya had me fooled. I thought ya was our youngest prince; but tha Kili I know woudda already spit out what he wanted, laughed, 'n' been gone."

Kili smiled at the joke. "Sorry...but...can I ask you something?"

"O, sure, sure. C'mon ta the back," Bofur turned and led the way hoping the privacy might make it easier for the prince to speak.

As they passed behind the curtain separating the store proper from the work area, Kίli noted Bifur seated at the work bench diligently carving a figure. The craftsman looked up long enough to nod. The raven-haired prince nodded back in return focused on the axehead in Bifur's skull.

"Sit," Bofur motioned to an empty spot at the bench. "Would ya be wantin' some tea? Just brewed it?"

Kίli really did not want any but knew he might need something to get himself through this conversation. He nodded in response.

Bofur returned with two mugs setting one before his guest and one at his place as he sat down across from the young Dwarf.

"Thanks," Kίli mumbled, still resisting the urge to bolt from the toyshop. "I want to ask you about...Bifur's ...head...wound...and...how it changed him," he finally managed.

Bofur nodded, things beginning to come into focus. He knew about the accident with the pony, the concussion; but had had little contact with the raven-haired dwarf since the incident. He had heard that Kίli was not his old cheerful self. From what the toymaker had seen so far, he thought that might have been an understatement.

"Well, now, Bif rarely spoke Khuzdal afore tha axe; 'n' now that's all he speaks. 'N' even that don' always make sense."

Kίli nodded, that much he already knew. "But did...his personality...change?"

"O aye, it did. He used ta be quicker ta anger. Now he's quieter, less'n somethin' riles him. But once he's riled up, thar's no stoppin' 'im. 'N' afore, 'e'd a n'er had tha patience for this work." Bofur reflected on his cousin's post-trauma life.

"Have you ever asked him what it feels like?...Before and after, I mean?" Kίli continued.

Bofur rubbed his beard. "Can't say that I have. But y'er welcome ta ask 'im yerself. Long as ya kin understand 'is answers."

Turning to his brother, Bofur said, "Young Kίli here wants ta know 'bout yer axe 'n' 'ow it changed ya."

Bifur looked at his brother before replying in Khuzdal, "Not deaf. Heard him."

Bofur rose from the bench chuckling, "I'll leave ya two ta talk then. Call me if'n ya need me ta translate." And with that the toymaker was gone leaving the young prince with the wounded warrior.

It took a while using Khuzdal and Iglishmek, especially since Kίli's grasp of the two was not the best and the older dwarf's ramblings were not always coherent. When the raven prince left the toyshop he had come to two conclusions. First, he would never be exactly the same again; and second, he would adapt because that was what Dwarrow did, even if he did not know how that would look.

Mahal had fashioned Dwarves from stone meaning they were sturdy and solid, standing firm. And just as the mountains they called home rose above the rest of Arda, tall and implacable, so were the Dwarves steady, stern, and unyielding. Besides he was of the line of Durin; there was no other option for the prince except to adapt. Kίli wished he felt stronger now instead of uncertain, ungrounded, and crumbling inside. He knew that it would take a while for him to adjust, but for now it was time to understand the changes that had been wrought in his life and to make peace with them...even if he had to do it alone.

AN: So, is Kili's psychological damage worse than the physical trauma was? Things will escalate from here. Thanks to everyone who's R&Ring. Don't forget to review, please- that's the coin of the realm to fanfic writers.