"While you're in there, wash out your clothes. It's past time." Fili stood on the banks of the mouth of the Celduin river, laughing at his younger brother.
Kili made a face at the blond dwarf. "Why are my feet always bare for these training days?" He snarled, standing in the cold mountain water, this time fighting currents to stay balanced. His father and uncle would launch pine cones at him from odd directions, which he would have to strike down with what looked like the thinnest of wooden staves.
"Take your feet off that rock and you fail." Elrohir warned sternly as the young prince windmilled his arms after a strike that nearly unbalanced him.
Fili laughed and pointed at Kili's sour expression, up until Elladan grabbed the back of his tunic and hauled the elder brother to his feet. "Join him or leave him be."
"Well now, can't not laugh." The blond sang out cheerfully and reached down to haul off his bulky dwarven boots.
Kili made a rude noise, and then growled as a pine cone came whistling toward his left side. He turned and knocked it away, even managing to keep his balance. "Don't you have duties oh crown prince of Erebor?"
"Delegated." Whistled Fili. "I love the word delegated."
"Balin is going to weep about the day he taught you that word." Laughed Kili as he ducked, spun, and managed to put the tip of his heavy stave on the pine cone almost out of his reach. "That one counts!" He groused.
Once free of his heavy leathers and boots, Fili whipped off his soft woolen shirt as well. "It's new." He explained as Elrohir watched him and held out his hand for one of the wooden staves.
The elf lord easily tossed the stave to the dwarven prince, who grunted, but caught it easily. It was heavier than it looked. Fili bounced the stave in his hands, realizing the wood was encasing a weighted metal core. "Nice."
Elladan watched his second-son join his blood-son in the river current. His gray eyes missing no detail. "Ever should it have been thus." He murmured. "I was a fool to let her leave without following."
Elrohir heard, but did not respond. Saying 'I told you so' in Elvish was a serious insult. Instead he called out to the blond dwarf. "You might be here a while, we were planning an all day session."
Kili groaned, but gamely hit the two pine cones his father sent spinning his way. One on either side of him. The first he struck with ease, the second he had to spin and only barely managed to reach. Though he ended up on one foot, his toes curling into the rough rock on which he was standing fighting for his balance. A third pine cone sailed right by his head as he was unable to adjust. "DAMN IT!"
"Sure it is alright having you both out here all day?" Elrohir sent a cone spinning at Kili, even as he spoke to the elder dwarf brother.
Fili grinned and found a rock for himself, testing to make sure it wouldn't shift under his weight. He shivered in the cold water. "Nay. Actually, Dwalin seemed eager to be rid of me today."
Kili knocked away the cone rather easily, but it careened off to the side, hitting Fili on the back of the thigh. "Score!" He yelped happily.
Fili gritted his teeth, grinning. "Oh. It's on now."
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
The stones echoed and the halls of Erebor resounded, first with the rythmic strikes of hammers and other tools, even boots. The sound could have been work related, only it clearly wasn't. The sounds were all in pace with each other. A beat. Like drums. Like a heartbeat.
The rhythm was solemn, sober, mourning. The dwarves lined up through the halls, an honor guard for the procession.
The King Under the Mountain stood upon a dias in his armor, his hands clasped behind his back in a regal stance. Dwalin on one side, Balin on the other.
The first voice to utter a note was King Thorin himself. The song was deep, rumbling, and culled the darkest sadness from the heart itself. The words, ancient, harsh, and unknown to any but their blood. Unlike any song they'd sang while on their quest, this one was in Khuzdul.
Of all their guests, only Galadriel and Glorfindel were unaccounted for. And after much debate, it was decided that these two would hold their counsel. Balin had even argued that the Lady of the Wood had known several of the Durin's throughout the many years, and had even been escorted through Khazad-dum. Which she'd named properly, in Khuzdul.
Most of Dain's warriors were also sent out on errands, patrolling borders and hunting. The ones remaining were of an older generation, seasoned and battle hardened, as well as known to the Erebor dwarves. Some had even had kin that had started here.
The first body carried through on the stretcher was covered. Not a skeleton like many, but the mummified remains of a dwarf who had perished, trapped by a dragon. There was a pause as the litter carriers marched to the beat of the Mourning Song. A name was called. "Khivetin, son of Setin."
Thorin watched, dry eyed but deeply moved. He nodded, and the litter continued past the king. It would be the first body of far too many. And most would not have a name or identity to find. Very few could still be named.
Deep inside Erebor, Galadriel heard the song deep into her bones. Eternally youthful and beautiful, the Elf Queen closed her eyes in sadness. Suddenly she could feel the press of years that would never show upon her body. The reality of death was ever a poison to one who is immortal. She thought of the undying lands and wondered if she would ever see them again.
Glorfindel sat in the empty room and listened. He did not understand Khuzdul. But he did understand death and mourning. Only too well. His hand was not as steady as usual as he reached for his wine glass.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"Arnica." Nuluin pointed out, pleased.
"Looks like a daisy." Gagnar scratched his chin absently, peering with one eye closed. He sounded irate and bored.
The elven healer sighed and shook his head. "In appearance, mayhap." He held up the many petalled yellow flower. "But it is not. This is arnica. It soothes burns and aids in the healing of wounds. Mostly in creams and ointments, it should not be used internally except by a healer."
"Why not?" A second dwarf demanded, this one younger and looking less angry than Gagnar.
"Could cause an irregular heartbeat." Tauriel said, though not looking in the direction of the group she was supposed to be guarding. Her keen eyes were on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Alert.
Gagnar shot a dark glance at the tall she-elf. "Don't know why we're out here helping elves collect plants and all."
"Because these plants are not for us, but for stocking Erebor's healing halls." Nuluin sneered, his attention on the daisy-like flower as he bent a stem and sniffed. "Good, good."
Tauriel didn't react to the evil look of Gagnar, but that wasn't to say she was unaware of his disregard and anger. "There were a lot of assignments today taking many away from Erebor."
The younger dwarf nodded. "Our captain said that it was to remove the bodies remaining after the dragon took the mountain. For proper songs and disposal. It is too private a sight for those who didn't know or cherish those that are gone."
Nuluin paused, shocked. His unlined face appearing younger than his actual age. "They hadn't removed the bodies right away?"
Gagnar was the one to sneer this time. "They weren't fresh bodies, now were they? No. Time was taken to identify who they could. Places were dug right proper for them in preparation."
Tauriel thought about this and then finally nodded. "A matter of respect."
Several younger dwarves heard her and nodded, liking that she understood. Gagnar growled at them. Angered that there were elves anywhere near Erebor, or any dwarven residence. Worse yet, there was a mixed blood bastard in line for the throne. How angry was the Maker about that abomination?
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
It was nearing the hours of twilight when the deed was finally finished and the last song sung.
Weary beyond telling, in body, mind and soul, the trio of dwarves headed to get something to drink. Thorin stopped in the doorway, staring.
Glorfindel sat redolent of elegant years long past. Every line of his body was relaxed and graceful. Only his eyes seemed shielded, and terribly sad. There were more than a few empty wine bottles on the table before him.
Dwalin snorted. "Those songs weren't for you to hear." It was almost an accusation.
Thorin walked over and picked up a half-empty bottle of wine. Glorfindel didn't move, not even to look up at the dwarf standing beside him. His voice was harsh, gruff. "Do you know our language?"
"No." The elf-warrior's word was soft, almost a sigh.
Balin eyed the elegant pose, and knew it to be a sham. He knew his history better than the other dwarves. "You've faced a dragon before yourself."
Glorfindel's head dropped slightly in acknowledgement. One finger tracing the rim of his wine glass absently.
Thorin's hand paused as he filled a fresh glass of wine for himself. He shot a glance at his white-haired advisor, and then then to the sitting elf.
Dwalin eyed the golden haired hero, his arms crossed. What he knew of the warrior flitted through his mind at a rapid pace. Finally he settled on a simple, and yet deep question. "Do you know every name fallen at Gondolin?"
Again, a short nod of the head, and eyes that seemed unfocused.
"So. You understand our hearts today." Thorin sighed and lifted his wine in a brief salute.
"A sorrow that steals the heart, salts the ground, and brings no warmth." Glorfindel absently translated. "An old saying, that only scratches the surface layer of what you faced today. The list of names will live with you all the days of your life."
Silence fell over the small group as they considered that. Balin's heart hurt to realize that for the elf, those names would live on for a very long time, and had already.
Suddenly, Dwalin looked up, his eyes sharpening. He stared at the tall elf who was currently more or less slouching. "I know why you tell no one if your grave held your body when you opened it."
Balin waved a hand at his brother to shut up. "Don't."
Glorfindel struggled, but managed to focus his eyes on the tattooed dwarf. "No. Do tell."
Dwalin appeared grim. "Because you did not open it to get your sword."
"It's a fine sword." The elf spoke silkily.
Thorin watched without expression, not wanting to interrupt.
"I'm sure it's a great weapon." Dwalin acknowledge. "But it wasn't your purpose."
Glorfindel weighed the moment in his mind, and then tilted his head slightly. Maginificent golden hair slid to one side as he carefully eyed the dwarves. "Be cautious. I am not sober. I might actually tell you, and my memories are dark beyond reckoning."
"Leave him to his thoughts." Balin sighed unhappily. "We all have sorrows."
Dwalin pointed at the elf warrior. "He has seen what we have seen. The fall of our families, our home, our people. Of all that walk Middle-Earth, this elf alone has lived through it."
"Ah, but I didn't live." Glorfindel waved a graceful hand even as he laughed a bit discordantly. "You survived. I did not. Where there is a grave there is usually a death don't you know." He didn't mention the balrog specifically, nor the fact that he'd slain it even as it carried the elf along with him into death.
Thorin cleared his throat and eyed those in the room for a long moment. "Durin the Deathless. Returned to us six times already, and one more to come. We are no strangers to those returning."
Badly startled, Glorfindel's eyes rounded a moment and then he gave a true laugh. "I knew that, but I ...no, I never truly considered that. Yes. The elves, they do not know what to make of my re-embodiment."
Balin shrugged. "Nor we, really. Durin is born anew each time, though with memories of his former lives."
The golden-haired warrior smiled gently. "The Valar gifted me with a return."
Dwalin sucked in a shocked breath, his eyes widening. "You awoke in your own grave. You didn't rob it, it is where you returned."
Glorfindel gave a true laugh and shook his head. "No. No, oh no. I arrived back in Middle-Earth on a ship. Nothing so dark and gray as my tomb." He paused, taking a sip of wine. "And I'm glad for it. The grave was lovely with beautiful flowers, but that would have been quite disturbing to have returned to the world at that place."
"Why did you seek out your grave?" Dwalin asked.
The former head of the House of the Golden Flower, looked up at the ceiling. He was quiet so long, that the dwarves thought he would not answer. But finally, the elf brought his head down and stared at Dwalin. "I speak not of your songs or your language, you speak not of my words."
"I so swear." Dwalin intoned solemnly. Thorin and Balin echoing the dwarven warrior.
"I had to see."
Thorin waited for more, but the explanation was over. Glorfindel shrugged, repeating himself. "I had to see."
"Not your grave." Balin guessed unhappily. "But what remained of Gondolin."
"No." Dwalin corrected with a heavy sigh. "What remained of the people."
"Nothing was left." Glorfindel wasn't looking at any of the dwarves anymore. "A few pieces of jewelry. Nothing precious of course, the city had been stripped down to wilderness. Belt buckles, buttons, nothing more. Some I knew, most I could only vaguely recall. It had been several thousand years between my death and my return."
"Opening your tomb?" Thorin asked quietly.
Glorfindel grinned, but it wasn't a happy look. Hints of madness entered the tall elf's gaze. "To reassure myself that it had all really happened. That I was who I thought I was." The madness passed and the elf touched the hilt of his sword. "And it is a very fine weapon."
No other question was asked. But Glorfindel answered one anyway. "If a body is buried it takes perhaps twenty years for a skeleton to return to dust. But if a tomb is well constructed, it could last for several thousand years."
Balin coughed and looked utterly saddened. "How well was your tomb constructed?"
"Luckily, poorly and in haste." Glorfindel looked over at the white-haired dwarf. "But full of small momentos. Keepsakes given to me in death by those who survived."
Dwalin didn't have to ask if the elf still had those keepsakes, he already knew the answer. "Do they help?"
"Most days." Glorfindel nodded, draining the rest of his wine glass. "Not today, not with songs echoing through the mountain. But on most days, they do help indeed."
Each keepsake he'd found, each small death gift had come from someone who had survived because he had not.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Dis read through the message several times, her hands shaking.
"Well?"
Three dwarven elders stared at her, their eyes sharp. Hope and heartbreak hung in the balance as they waited for her to answer. They'd brought the message to her unopened, a testimony to their honor in light of how anxious their entire community was to hear any news of Thorin's Company.
"Thorin is King Under the Mountain. Erebor is once again our home." Dis handed the message over to the elders, both elated and heartbroken. "No major injuries."
The elder scanned the written missive eagerly. "No details, it is a small message as it comes on the wings of birds. Dain. Dain Ironfoot sent this, and he is on his way here."
Relieved murmurs from the other elders. "He begs Lady Dis to be ready to travel immediately, in order to return to Erebor before the winter closes the mountain passes completely."
One elder nodded, the other frowned. "Spring would be a safer time to travel. Give us time to prepare and bring more of our people."
"No. We will still travel home in the Spring. This is for the Lady Dis to be ready to return quickly with Dain escorting her." The other elder answered, reading over the message once more.
"Why does he mention the help of the elves? In such a short note, why waste words on that? We need details! Is the dragon gone or slain? Who fought? Who is injured? How stands the kingdom?" The elder snarled and pulled on his long silver beard anxiously. "Dain! We need more information!"
"He is arriving soon." Another elder said soothingly. "We can question him then." He blinked happily over at Dis. "Your brother has succeeded! Your sons honor their ...oh, well, they honor Durin's Line!"
Father. Your sons honor their father. An old phrase, ancient really. And stumbled over in light of current circumstances. The dwarven elders had never been happy that Dis had not named Kili's father. Thorin had always stood between them and she, however.
Until now.
Elves. At Erebor. She knew why Dain had included that information in his letter. And why she had to be ready to travel at speed.
Kili. Had they recognized something within him? Was Elladan on his way to Erebor even now? Dis moaned, catching her balance on the table.
The elders rushed to her, concerned. Helping her sit and making her tea, which she couldn't drink, not now.
"Ah!" The most upright and caustic of the elders smiled. "We need to raise our mugs to King Thorin, son of Thrain. And to Fili, son of Nehili. And to Kili." He stopped there. He always stopped there rather than face Thorin or Dwalin's wrath.
The other two elders shook their heads at him. "Not the time nor the place, not when we need to be celebrating.
"Son of Elladan." Dis whispered, for the first time ever. Her shoulders straightening. "Excuse me. I have travel preparations to make."
She left the three elders staring after her in various stages of shock. The oldest of their group pointed after her, turning to look at his companions. "What name was that?"
"I did not recognize the name." The second elder put his finger in his ear, twirling it a bit to clear out the wax. "Alladen? Eleden? Isn't there a Eldun over in Sparrowden, about two leagues west? Miner?"
"He's barely ninety." Protested the first elder with a look of disgust. "Far too young."
The third elder, at 230, still had excellent hearing. He'd heard the name, but did not recognize it or the bloodline. What kind of name was Elladan for a dwarf anyway? "Why now?"
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
"I thought you would have gotten enough of me for the day." Elladan didn't look behind him to know who was there.
Kili made a face, stepping up beside his father on the empty battlement. They were high up on the walls looking over the valley below. Guards were posted on the lower battlements, as these were not repaired as yet.
"No railings."
"Worried for my safety?" Elladan was seated on the bare stone, looking up at the stars. It was a very clear night. Gorgeous really.
Feeling unsure, Kili looked at the line of his father's back. He'd searched for Elladan after dinner, but couldn't find him. It had been the Lady of Light, who'd pointed him out here.
Kili moved in, uncertain of his welcome. It was easier to deal with this particular elf during the day with others around him. Not one on one. He sat down gingerly next to the elf who'd sired him, biting back a groan.
Elladan's teeth flashed with a quick smile. "It's okay to be sore."
"I'm fine." Denied Kili, not wanting to appear weak, not before his father. Father. He sighed.
Elladan let him be, thankfully. Allowing the silence of the night and the ambient sounds of a kingdom below them fill the space. It was a bit nice actually. Thorin would have pressed him to come to the point by now.
Only Thorin didn't know what Kili needed answered. "I was looking for you." He broke the quiet.
"You have a question. One that you want to ask away from your brother, your uncle, or even my brother."
Kili grimaced. As a guess it was dead on target. "Do you ever miss?" He grumbled.
"Yes." The word was dripping with bitter regret.
Kili stilled, ruing his choice of words. "Sorry." He paused, looking out over the night. "Uhm. So. If Galadriel is my father's mother's mother? Where is my father's mother? Did she stay in Rivendell?" It wasn't what he'd sought out his father to ask, but he wasn't ready to get to the point yet.
Elladan shook his head gently. "Captured by orcs many years before you were born."
Stiffening, Kili's dark eyes widened in instant distress. "Damn it. I'm sorry. I didn't know she was dead."
The tall elf turned and looked at him, his gray eyes cast into shadows by the battlements. "She's not dead." Elladan's voice was saddened but thoughtful. "My brother and I rescued her, but the pain of what she'd been through was too much to bear. She sailed to the Undying Lands."
"That's code for dead. I meant, I thought. Isn't that just another way of saying dead?" Kili asked with halting words, on very unsure ground.
Elladan's lips twitched. "No. She lives. The Undying Lands is the realm of the Ainur and the Elves. The Valar and the Maiar."
"Right. Not dead." Kili fell silent again, his mind racing. Finally he gave a rough sigh. "No. I still don't undertand."
"She lives. Perhaps you should start there. Celebrian. Very sweet, kind and beautiful. She will love you."
"I can meet her?" The dark-haired prince asked, uneasy with that idea. Would she be like a real person or a ghost?
Elladan hesitated. "I don't know." Now he too sounded unsure. "That is a deep question with an unknown answer."
"Because I'm mortal." Kili guessed.
Reluctantly, Elladan nodded. "Yes." He confirmed.
The youngster looked up at the stars. "Someone mentioned a choice. Choosing to be counted as a dwarf or an elf?"
"I wish I didn't have to answer." The elf lord bit his bottom lip.
"I don't get a choice, do I?" Kili nodded. "Talked this over with Balin and Oin a lot. We figure I'm a lot closer to dwarf, being half. And you're not full elf."
Elladan closed his eyes, looking pained. Kili stilled, not having wanted to offer insult. "We're not wrong, are we?"
The elf who'd sired him shook his head slightly. "No. You're not wrong. And quite mortal."
"It's no bad thing to be a dwarf." Kili said with forced cheer. "I grew up thinking I was one, and it turns out I really am."
"I just found you. I'm not prepared to lose you." Elladan's voice cracked with grief, alarming his son.
Kili turned to the tall elf, his dark-eyes wide. "Hey! I'm young yet, as EVERYONE keeps reminding me." Plenty of time. Except, his father was old, for a dwarf anyway. And would live a long time after Kili was gone.
His mother, his love, his son. Elladan had clearly suffered so much loss. Kili's heart ached for the tall elf sitting beside him. Even if he really wasn't sure how to react to suddenly having a father, he didn't want him to suffer. Tentatively he put his hand on his father's shoulder.
It seemed to be a signal, because Elladan's arm wrapped around his son's shoulders and pulled him in tight against his body.
"Erm." Kili blinked. This was more touching than he'd been prepared for. Yet dwarves were a touchy race. They hugged, they held, they liked closeness. Only this wasn't a dwarf. Kili felt awkward and pulled back slightly. His father still had his arm around him, but there was space between them now.
"I'm sorry for the road ahead of you, it won't be easy."
Kili blinked, his dark eyes studying his father. He'd been trying to comfort Elladan, but it seemed the elf thought he was the one in need. "Long road?" Suddenly his breath caught. "Wait. You said mortal, you said we guessed rightly. I'm a dwarf. Right? Mortal, you can't take that back!"
Elladan pulled his son back into his body, wrapping both arms around him now. "Mortal yes, but you're a bit more than a dwarf."
Kili's hand fisted in his father's robes. "How much more?" He asked suspiciously. "You're talking about ...living longer, yes?"
"Yes."
Fear welled up in the youngster's heart. Inwardly he pictured all the members of his family and all of his friends. Fili most especially. "How much longer?" Now he wasn't trying to pull away. Now he was suddenly chilled and grateful for the touch.
"They're not completely sure." Elladan's voice sounded apologetic. "But no less than a thousand years, perhaps as many as two or three more centuries after that."
"I feel dizzy." Kili muttered, his stomach turning over queasily. "You promised mortal."
"That is mortal." Elladan answered, tightening his arms around his now shaking son.
"No! No it's not. Maybe to you, but not to me!" Kili pushed back suddenly, wanting to be let go. He pulled free and stood, walking over to the edge of the battlements. The ones with no rails.
Elladan watched him carefully.
Kili turned his back on the night vista, staring wide-eyed at his sire. "Fili will only live around 250 years."
The elf lord nodded, sympathy in his gaze.
"I'm going to lose him." Kili sounded shattered even to his own ears.
"I'm going to lose you." Elladan's pain echoed Kili's own.
Kili turned and stared out at the open air, smelling the wind. "No rain for at least a week." He said inanely. "What about if I have children?"
"Depends on whom you wed."
Turning back toward Elladan, Kili stared at him. "If I marry a dwarrowdam?"
"Your children will be clearly mortal, although living a very long time for a dwarf. Not as long as you will though." Elladan gave him a questioning look. "Is there a dwarrowdam in the picture?"
Kili snorted in derision. "Dwarrowdams think me ugly."
Elladan stared at him and shook his head. "Maybe you aren't the epitome of beauty for a dwarf, but you are more than a fine example of a dwarrow. Any dwarrow-maid would be lucky."
The dark-haired prince gave a half-tilted smile. "I actually came out here to ask you about gift ideas for Tauriel."
"Definitely not a dwarrow-maiden." Elladan said dryly.
"To an elf, how do I look?" Kili asked cautiously.
His father studied him and sighed. "Not beautiful, but not bad either. Shorter. Scruffy in regards to the beard. Broad shoulders aren't a deterrent though."
"So ugly in both races." Kili rolled his eyes. "I'm blaming you for this." He actually managed a small smile, even if he wasn't really feeling it.
Surprised at the humor, Elladan's eyebrows rose. "If it helps, among human women you'd never be left alone."
Stunned, Kili stared. "What?"
Elladan's lips twitched and he reached out, snagging Kili by the shoulder and pulling him away from the edge of the battlement. He looked gravely down into his son's face. "Go anywhere near human females, and you will find no rest, but plenty of beds to sleep in."
Huh? Kili mulled that over, and then blushed beet red. "You didn't just say that!"
"Why? Because elves don't make off-color jokes?"
Mouth open, Kili nodded, stunned. "Exactly!"
"To the human's you're very attractive." Elladan sighed heavily. "In fact, I forbid you to go anywhere near humans."
"Body of stone, remember?" Kili sputtered.
Elladan pressed his chin down on Kili's dark hair, bending slightly to reach. "They'll see trying to 'wake you up' as a challenge."
Kili closed his eyes, having a lot to come to terms with.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
Fili was having the strangest dream, that he was being watched through the walls of his room back in Ered Luin. With a start, he woke. Blinking blearily as he stared at the dwarf sitting in a chair, watching him.
"Kili?" Why was his brother in his room, fully dressed and looking so tense?
"Go back to sleep."
"What is it, little brother?"
Kili made a face. Fili watched him. He patted the bed next to him and his younger brother crawled onto the sheets and sprawled down beside him, still wearing his boots. "Bad dream?" Fili asked.
"Bad answers." Kili said vaguely.
"Your father didn't tell you what to give to Tauriel for Durin's Day?"
Startled, Kili laughed. "We sort of skipped over that part." He threw his arm over his eyes. "Did you know that I'm considered pretty handsome to human females?"
"Yes."
Kili's arm moved and he stared at his sibling. "Huh?"
Fili made a noise in the back of his throat. "Lake Town. You were the center of attention. Petting, cooing, the whole works."
Kili shook his head. "Because I was wounded!"
"Blind idiot." Fili said affectionately. "They pampered you."
"It wasn't because I was wounded?" The dark-haired brother asked, eyes wide.
"Wounded didn't hurt." The blond allowed.
Kili's eyes lost their glow. "I'm going to outlive you." The words tore at his heart, but his brother didn't react as he thought.
"You always were." Fili responded solemnly. "Now it's just been extended by a bit."
"More than a bit." Kili sounded despondant. "Mayhap a thousand years more than a bit." He turned and stared at his brother. "You knew?"
"Guessed." Fili's blue eyes watched him sadly and he held open his arms. Kili slid into the brotherly embrace, like he'd done since being a dwarfling.
When the younger dwarf began to cry for the first time since he'd been very small, neither said a word. Fili just held him tighter and ignored the dirty boots ruining the nice sheets.
o.o.o.o.o
o.o.o.o.o
A/N: Earning the hurt/comfort tag ...