It was on a morning, once again thick with fog when Thorin Oakenshield, now King under the Mountain stepped out of the front gate of Erebor.
He threw away the torn, dirty clothes and wore the ones that were more fit for a king, the ones that were waiting in his chambers for long years. Two princes and two counselors walked by his side, also in clear and proper clothes - they bathed for the first time after weeks, and they slept in their beds. The sense of comfort radiated from them.
The ones they came to welcome were approaching on horses, now dismounting and nearing on feet. Many others followed them while a few stayed behind with the horses.
One of them was a tall, valiant man with long, dark curls and a bow on his back. Thorin didn't know him, only the ones walking by his side. They were taller, lithe and blonde, one of them only inches smaller than the other. The King under the Mountain eyed them, then, once they were close enough, he stepped out of the line of his own kin.
"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thrór," the dark haired man said, his voice deep and firm. He narrowed his eyes as he stepped in front of the dwarf king, taking him in closely. Thorin found it greatly uncomfortable to keep looking up at him, for he was much taller than the dwarf. He said nothing. "I am Bard and I come from Esgaroth. I am the one who killed the beast you lured out."
Thorin bowed his head ever so slightly.
"I believe we owe you a great lot, Bard the Bowman."
"You owe me nothing, King under the Mountain," Bard shook his head, something glimmering in his eyes that told Thorin he found it amusing. "Esgaroth is in ruins. The elves brought healers, but they cannot help me rebuild my town. I need gold for that, gold that they cannot provide me."
The king's eyes slowly slid to the said elves and he held back a growl once his eyes met Thranduil's. He remembered the last time they met, and the desire for vengeance still burned his insides. Seeing Legolas, however, was a relief, even though the prince did not look him in the eye. He stood close to his father, his face grim and serious.
Thorin eventually turned back to Bard, clearing his throat before speaking.
"I share the grief over the destruction of the dragon, for I myself have seen as well how he ruined our once mighty kingdom," Thorin started, his voice low. He looked into the eyes of the man firmly. "I cannot give you comfort, only offer you a place where we can come to an agreement."
"I do not come for comfort, Thorin Oakenshield," Bard said, his voice softer than before. He obviously saw that Thorin wasn't against a peaceful discussion, and it eased his suspicion. "I come for aid."
"And aid is what you shall receive," Thorin answered, moving backwards a few steps. "Welcome to Erebor."
There was a time when Fili and Kili were absolutely obsessed with politics.
It was back in Ered Lúin where their small number of teachers and their very exhausted uncle tried to put as many information about ruling a kingdom in their head as they possibly could. Needless to say, they didn't succeed.
It wasn't because they were foolish, it was mostly because they were really young and they saw plotting behind every great historical event. Especially if they were in connection with elves. (They kept asking Thorin for almost a week if he had ever been 'ensnarled in the plot'. The king had no idea what plot they were talking about, but it was irritating. Luckily, they got bored of it before Thorin could've yelled their heads off.)
After months of suffering, Thorin finally gave up and let the lads practice shooting arrows and wielding swords instead. They slowly grew older and realised that politics wasn't as exciting as they thought, and that plotting was actually really rare and not at all a nice business. So they stuck with their weapons instead, and Thorin appreciated their choice.
Now, as they had been sitting by the huge table that somehow remained untouched by the dragon, both Fili and Kili felt like they were being tortured. Elves, men and dwarves sat there as well, but they seemed more interested in this negotiation than the brothers. Everyone talked about gold and people and rebuilding kingdoms, and Kili finally understood that it was politics.
And he found nothing interesting in it at all.
He also had to realise that it didn't matter how intensely he eyed Legolas, the elf wouldn't look back at him, and it made him worried. He saw the look in Thorin's eyes that obviously meant 'hold yourself together until we finish', but Kili found it extremely hard to do so. He hadn't heard Legolas speaking since they were in Erebor, and he was thinking of the worst possibility already.
Long hours passed without anything interesting happening when Thorin suddenly cleared his throat and stood from the table. Bard and the elves had done the same, so Kili and Fili guessed they must do so as well. Everyone was standing, and the King under the Mountain turned to Bard.
"The gold shall be taken to Esgaroth, and your men shall be expected in Erebor tomorrow."
"Thank you, Thorin Oakenshield," Bard bowed his head, his distant behaviour from earlier completely gone. Kili admired his bow for a long time, but he came to the conclusion that it was nothing compared to his own or Legolas'. "You showed himself wise and selfless. You are a great king."
The men retreated from the table then, and so did most of the dwarves with the exception of Fili and Thorin. Kili was still standing, rooted to the spot where he had been staying since he jumped to his feet, and, while Thranduil approached Thorin, Kili kept his eyes on Legolas. The young prince was still sitting in his chair, his head lowered and his eyes focused on one point of the table. It looked like he was restraining himself, and Kili just wanted to shout with desperation, but he knew he couldn't. He just watched, and felt his heart breaking.
"Kili," Thorin's voice shook the prince out of his thoughts and Kili snapped his head up like a frightened stag. There was something knowing in the eyes of his uncle, but Kili couldn't put his finger on it. "Show the prince of Mirkwood to his room, would you?"
Kili's heart immediately jumped into his throat, beating harder than it had ever beaten and he nodded anxiously. Thorin then pulled Thranduil aside, deeply conversing with him about something that Kili wasn't interested in anymore. He only had eyes for the said prince of Mirkwood who was already walking towards the door, never once removing his eyes from the ground.
"I don't even know which room should I take him," Kili hissed as he stepped next to his brother, desperation obvious on his face. Fili rolled his eyes.
"You idiot, uncle wanted to give you two some time in private," Fili muttered, nodding towards Legolas with his head. The elf was standing at the door, waiting patiently for Kili to join him - of course, without looking at him even once. "Do not waste your time, Kee, just go!"
And Kili didn't waste any more time.
He cursed himself for not paying attention when Thorin informed them about where each elf and man was to be placed, so their walk mostly consisted in Kili following Legolas and trying to keep his pace. He still had his heart hammering in his throat, and he opened his mouth to say something many times, but actual words never came out. And it frustrated him greatly.
It seemed like Legolas didn't really need him to show the way, for he led them there without getting lost even once. Kili felt ashamed somewhere deep inside, for he got lost with Fili like five times in the last two days, and he still couldn't find his room sometimes for the first try.
"Thank you for your service, Kili," Legolas said while opening the door, his eyes fixed on the floor. Kili's mouth hang open, and he was dangerously close to snapping. "That would be all."
Legolas was already halfway through the door and just about to close it in Kili's face when the dwarf could finally gather enough of his composure to act something. He swiftly put his foot between the door and the wall, and, for the first time since they arrived, Legolas looked at him, directly in the eyes. His gaze was full of shock and confusion, but Kili could see fear as well and it made his stomach sink. His own face was determined and he breathed heavily, mostly to fight down his building anger.
"What happened to you?" Kili asked, his voice incredulous and at least an octave higher than usually. "What is wrong with you, Legolas?"
The elf blinked, gaping slightly from the sudden snapping of the dwarf, then he tore his glance from him again. Kili was on the edge of yelling now.
"Nothing," Legolas muttered, his cold composure silently cracking as his fingers started trembling on the handle of the door. Kili couldn't hold himself back for any longer.
He tore the door open and barged in, shutting it loudly behind him. Legolas was in complete shock now, not quite knowing what to do besides standing awkwardly by the door, and Kili had had enough of it. He grabbed the elf's ivory wrist and pulled him to the bed, sitting him down fiercely so they could be on eye-level.
"Talk to me, Legolas," the dwarf said, his voice firm but softer than before, and he didn't let go of Legolas' hand. His fingers merely entwined with the elf's, but Legolas didn't show any sign of reciprocating the gesture. Kili didn't give up, though.
"You shouldn't be here," Legolas said. Every word he said was barely a murmur, but Kili understood it perfectly and only shifted closer to the elf. He was now looking down at their hands, but still didn't move it anywhere.
"Tell me something I don't know," Kili smiled gently. "Tell me what's wrong."
Legolas stayed silent, still reluctant to look at the prince but he eventually opened his mouth to speak.
"My father despises you," he looked up with eyes so sad that Kili wasn't even touched by the words, only by the look of the elf. "He was outraged when it turned out I helped you escape, and-"
"He knows you helped us?" Kili's face fell, his heart twisting in his chest. He had never wanted that to happen. Bilbo told them the plan they used for the escape, and Kili was absolutely stunned by it. He thought the truth could never come to light.
"I ruined the plan by coming after you, so yes, he knows," Legolas said with a sad half-smile, his eyes lingering on Kili's face. "But it doesn't matter now."
"Of course it matters!" Kili said on a voice slightly louder than how he wanted, and his mouth closed shut right away. He squeezed the elf's hand in his own, moving even closer to him with his whole body. "Did he hurt you?"
"It doesn't matter, Kili!" Legolas was stubborn enough to never say it out loud, but Kili knew the truth. His heart immediately started aching for the elf, his elf who took the blame for everything and had to change for his father's sake, leaving everything that was truly him behind. It was the worst punishment imaginable for the young dwarf. "What only matters is that... I cannot choose between my father and the one I love. I just can't."
Kili understood how serious the question was, but at the word 'love' his heart skipped a beat and he stopped breathing. He knew his own feelings and he accepted them, he embraced them and would've never denied them, but hearing this from the lips of Legolas was something entirely different. It made him smile, and he let out a small huff of breath.
"You love me?" he asked, his voice small and silent. The change on Legolas' face was something he had never seen before on anyone. Fear and despair disappeared, getting replaced by pure admiration and love. It sent a warm wave over Kili's body, covering his whole being in goosebumps.
"What were you thinking so far?" The smile that appeared on Legolas' lips was so beautiful that Kili laughed out loudly at the sight. It was more than wonderful to see his old self still being there under the mask that Thranduil forced on him, and, out of pure joy, Kili immediately placed his hands on both sides of Legolas' face. The elf closed his eyes for a second, covering Kili's hands with his own and leaning into the touch with need.
"I don't know," Kili answered after a few long moments, just simply staring at Legolas' face as the elf kept his eyes closed. His voice was barely a whisper. "I only knew that I loved you."
Legolas opened his eyes slowly, his face absolutely unreadable for the dwarf. It consisted of so many emotions that no one could've read them off correctly, let alone Kili with his heart close to stopping for good. He swallowed hard as he gently ran his thumb over the line of Legolas' jaw.
"You don't have to choose," the dwarf said, his eyes buried in Legolas' deep blue ones. "I won't let them make you choose. No one can make you do something that you don't want to. You won't cease to exist as an elf just because you love a dwarf, and me neither. Thranduil will still be your father, and I am sure once my uncle gives his blessings, your father will do so as well."
"Thorin will give his blessings?" Legolas murmured with the slightest bit of surprise in his voice, and Kili chuckled gently.
"He is in love with Bilbo. He would never live it down if he denied this from me after all of the drama he made for himself with poor Mister Baggins," Kili said, and they both started laughing at the same time, their foreheads meeting as they leaned closer to each other.
They soon fell into comfortable silence after that, with their eyes closed and breathing in the same air. Kili could've wished for nothing else in that moment, but he still had one more thing to say.
"Please don't ignore me like this again," he muttered, his voice pleading and his eyes opening to look at Legolas. The elf stared back at him, guilt shining in the blue orbs that Kili imagined so many times in the last weeks. "I couldn't bear it."
Legolas didn't answer, he just gently pulled the dwarf closer and touched his lips to Kili's.
Kili took it as another promise.
Ruling a kingdom wasn't easy. Ruling a kingdom that was in complete ruins was even more difficult.
Thorin had always loved a good challenge, especially when he was young. He trained himself until the point he was on the verge of utter physical exhaustion, he read 90% of the books in the royal library (mostly about history), and he always had time for his family and friends. He loved being tested, he enjoyed being on a hunt or just simply in the mines, and he knew most of the royal household by name. His people loved him, and he was sure he would find a way to be a good king one day. (Whenever he had doubts his mother swept them away. She was his guardian angel.)
Now, as he was leaning heavily on his table, staring down at piles of parchments about all the things he yet had to get done, he felt tireder than anytime before.
Elves were waiting for an agreement on the peace process, men were waiting for their gold, dwarves were coming from the Iron Hills and Ered Lúin, Erebor had to be cleaned and rebuilt, and Thorin hadn't had enough help to do it. He would've liked a coronation ceremony as well, to become a true king and not be just someone who claims himself one. He knew it had to wait, for there were more important things in line and he had to take care of them first. He just didn't know how.
"Thorin."
The silent word and the knock on the open door broke the quietness, and Thorin turned around to face Dwalin. His friend held a long parchment in his hand and his expression was filled with concern.
"Ye alright?" he asked, approaching slowly as he eyed his friend. Thorin waved, leaning to the edge of the table with his thighs while he sighed deeply.
"I have been better," the king murmured, his eyes lingering on the floor for a while before looking up at Dwalin. He didn't seem less worried. "I'm just tired. I hope you brought good news."
"Aye," Dwalin said but he kept his eyes on Thorin for a few seconds. Then, he held out the paper in his hand and let the king take it. "We finished looking over the rooms. The left wing had it the worst, but the right one can be used. There are about 150 rooms that can be used."
Thorin skimmed through the parchment, scratching the back of his neck thoughtfully. He liked what he saw. He thought the damage would be much worse than that, and he was relieved they had plenty of space where they could place the dwarves of the Iron Hills and Ered Lúin. It worried him greatly, for the great number of the old residents of Erebor returning was thought to be difficult to place. Now, though, even the air felt clearer in the king's lungs as he realised it was not the case, and he looked up at Dwalin with a satisfied look.
"You did a good job. Anything on the whereabouts of Dáin?"
"They should be here upon tomorrow evening," Dwalin said, taking the parchment from Thorin and reeling it up quickly. "Also... The royal chambers stayed unharmed as well, but we didn't go in there. You might want to do that alone."
Thorin swallowed hard at the mention of his family's rooms, and he nodded slowly. He wasn't sure he would ever be ready to enter the room of his parents or Frerin, to see what they left behind in such a rush. He wasn't even strong enough to enter his own room, he just chose another for himself. He sent in Balin to bring out some of his clothes, though, but that was it. He knew he wouldn't spend much time in his new chamber, only what was necessary for thinking over his strategies.
He took the key that Dwalin held out to him, nevertheless, and placed it in his pocket with a small, bitter smile.
"Thank you, Dwalin."
The warrior nodded slightly, sympathy glimmering in his eyes, and he took a reluctant step back. He left the room without any further comments, and Thorin turned back to his papers, taking a deep breath.
I should see those rooms as soon as possible, he thought to himself, his eyelids falling closed heavily. The sooner I look them through, the shorter this pain knots my stomach.
He was so deep in his thoughts that the sudden hands on his eyes started him to his bones, and he straightened in a mere second. His fingers grabbed the wrist tightly, spinning its owner around so the intruder was in front of him, half-lying on the table.
Once he recognised his 'attacker', his grip immediately loosened and his face fell in absolute awe.
"Vanyra?" the king breathed, letting go of the dwarf girl's wrist and taking her in with his eyes. The girl smiled brightly, like she hadn't even felt the violent touch of Thorin, and she laughed out loudly.
"This is how you greet an old friend?" she asked, her voice obviously meant to be reproachful but her eyes told a different story. "Pushing 'em onto your table and nearly killing 'em? You grew rude over the years, Thorin."
"For Mahal's name, just shut up and come here," a grin broke its way through the shock on Thorin's face and he wrapped his arms around the waist of Vanyra, holding her tightly in his embrace. The girl hugged him back, laughing as Thorin picked him up and spinned them around the room. "You have no idea how much I missed you."
"Not enough, apparently, to send a damn raven and ask me to come here," Vanyra answered and hit Thorin in the shoulder so the king would put her down finally. She made a face filled with false resentment, and Thorin just couldn't stop grinning. "I was at Laketown when it started raining dragons, so I was sure you either managed to get yourself killed or... Or yes, it was the only possibility that crossed my mind, actually."
"We sent ravens to Ered Lúin and the Iron Hills. Dáin will be here tomorrow," Thorin said, not at all shocked at the way how Vanyra was greeting him. He would've found it odd if she had spoken elsehow. "Have you met Dwalin? He just left a minute ago."
"Nah," Vanyra shook his head, her smile changing immediately, and Thorin fought back a knowing look. "I waited until he was gone. I wanted to meet him in private."
"Private, huh?" Thorin muttered, hiding his mouth behind his palm, but Vanyra heard him nonetheless and smacked him at the back of his head with an incredulous smile.
"Stop it before you begin!"
"I didn't say anything!" the king laughed. He still couldn't believe that the dwarf girl was standing in front of him, and he felt like a youngster again. He remembered how much time they spent together, just the three of them, and he missed those times more than anything. "You should go and see the lads of Dis, they grew like the mushroom."
"Oh, the lads!" Vanyra's face shone up, clapping excitedly at the mention of Fili and Kili. "They had always been my favourites."
"Make sure to ask them about their love lives," Thorin smiled cunningly, wrapping his arm around Vanyra's shoulder as they started walking out of the room. "You will lose your sanity when you hear about that."
"Don't tell me they had already done that?" Vanyra stopped abruptly, staring at Thorin with a face full of shock and the king rolled his eyes, laughing.
"No, for Mahal's sake, Vanyra," he reached after the girl's arm and pulled her closer to continue walking. He stayed silent for a while, thinking it over more thoroughly, then his smile faded ever so sightly. "Although, I cannot kno-"
"Stop it, seven hells Thorin, just stop it!"
The whole corridor was loud with their laughter and bickering afterwards.
"I don't understand why we can't hold a feast tonight," Kili moaned, laying on the bed in Vanyra's room, close to Fili. The older prince didn't say a word, just kept staring up at the ceiling with the most heartbroken expression on his face. It was one of his skills, to look like a kicked pup whenever he wanted to.
Vanyra grinned.
"Because your uncle is dull," she turned to look at Thorin with a cunning look, but Thorin just rolled his eyes. "Yes, you are dull, Thorin. You used to be more fun."
"I'm not dull," the dwarf sighed, massaging his temples with the frown of slight irritation on his face. "I just simply accept that Erebor is not yet ready for such celebration. And it won't be for a while."
"You can save yourself however you want, I knew you when you were close to tears whenever your grandfather cancelled a feast," Vanyra turned back to her pack, pulling out her clothes and folding them with care. She threw some of them at the princes, lying on her bed, but they didn't even flinch and it only made her smile wider. They were like two sulking babies, and she loved them like they had been her own. "You wanted to brag with a new fur or a jewel or a bead in your hair, and you didn't get the chance."
"Is she speaking the truth?" Kili raised his head but didn't move to remove the cloth from his face. Vanyra laughed and pulled the drape away, folding it as well. She kept her eyes on the curiously furrowed brows of the younger prince.
"He would never admit it," she whispered, leaning closer to the lads so she was half-lying on the bed as well. "But I recommend you to ask your mother about it, she will have juicy stories for you two."
Kili grinned like a madman, mischief already shining in his deep brown eyes as his glance met Fili's. Vanyra could see Thorin burying his face in his palm, but the king didn't make any remarks. There was no need for them, for everyone knew this topic wasn't particularly his favourite.
"Don't be so happy, boys. Your uncle told me you have extraordinary love lives," Vanyra dropped her bag on the floor so she could sit on the bedstead, her back facing Thorin. Fili and Kili immediately blushed, avoiding everyone else's eyes and focusing on an irrelevant point somewhere on the ceiling. Vanyra smirked. "Who wants to start?"
"Don't push them too hard, Vanyra," Thorin stood from his chair, walking towards Vanyra and placing his hands on her shoulders. "You should know what it's like to be in love after all."
He leaned closer to press a kiss on her cheek, and the dwarf girl let him with a soft smile, leaning into the touch a little. She missed Thorin way too much to tease him about his sudden gentleness. It had always been like he was her brother, a brother she could never have.
He and Dwalin.
"I will teach you how to shoot," Thorin told her on the first day of their meeting, a cheeky grin spread on his face like he was but a mere dwarfling. The prince was actually much older than her or Dwalin, but he rarely acted like that. He was mostly silly, and that's why Vanyra liked him so much. "And Dwalin can teach you how to wield a real mattock! Have you ever seen one?"
"She is a girl," Dwalin muttered, eyeing her like she was Morgoth himself. Vanyra only narrowed her eyes at him. "I bet she had never seen an arrow before."
Vanyra had always been taught to behave respectfully and never talk back, especially not to a male dwarf who had been older than her. They had never told her not to act, though, so she marched up to Thorin, tearing the bow out of his hand and picking up an arrow from the ground. She shot so swiftly that Dwalin didn't even have the chance to blink, and the arrow bored itself into the tree just a few inches away from his head.
Both of the dwarves stared at her as she lowered the bow, dropping it onto the ground and looking at Dwalin with a challenging smile.
"Had I not?"
Dwalin just blinked, and he had never once teased her again.
Afterwards, they had always spent their time together, whether it was about learning, practicing, or playing. Many of her friends kept asking her if the prince was in love with her and if she was going to be the queen one day, but she just shook her head with a soft smile.
She had never told anyone, but she had her eyes on someone else.
Vanyra, after the attack of Smaug, had been forced to move to the Iron Hills, under the special protection of Dáin. She had rarely seen Thorin, Dwalin even more rarely, and it was something she knew she wouldn't be able to bear for too long. She soon decided to visit Ered Lúin, to see her friends, and she arrived just in time to see Fili born. Dwalin wasn't there so she spent time with Thorin and the babes mostly. A few years later when she returned Kili was born, and she only saw Dwalin for a really short time.
She had wanted to tell him how she felt for such a long time that it started to become a part of her life. Imagining scenarios, dialogues that, with the weeks and months coming by, never came to happen. And it started growing on her more and more heavily with every passing year.
Now that she had the chance, she wouldn't have even known how to talk to him properly.
Vanyra was waken from her thoughts by the lack of Thorin's hands on her shoulders and she looked after him, only to see him backing towards the door. She couldn't believe her best friend was the king now, but she felt pride washing over him and she smiled.
"I have to look through a few rooms. If the lads are done with you, you can join me," he offered with a small nod before disappearing over the corner. Vanyra then turned back to Fili and Kili, the princes staring at her with frightened, wide eyes. She started laughing, shifting closer to them and patting their knees.
"Against all odds, your uncle is really proud of you," Vanyra said, amused by the way the lads' faces turned from scared to absolutely surprised in a fraction of a second. "He has feelings inside of that beating ice cube he carries in his chest."
Fili and Kili started grinning immediately, obviously very well aware of what Vanyra was talking about. Thorin was a sensitive person, and surely, he was demanding sometimes, but that never misled the boys. They saw what lay inside, in that shell that no one was able to see but them. The last remaining members of his family. They loved Thorin like he was their father, so they couldn't be convinced to stay in Ered Lúin when their uncle gathered dwarves for the journey. Both of them stated clearly that they wouldn't let Thorin leave without them, and the king didn't have any other choice. The only one trying to convince them to stay was Dis, but once Thorin swore he would take care of the boys, she gave her blessings as well.
Seeing this family and living with them for so long made Vanyra realise that she was one of them now. And she would be damned if she was about to let that go.
"Was he angry?" Kili asked on a small voice, his cheeks pink in the dim light of the torches and candles all around the room. Vanyra furrowed her brows, confused. "About me and Legolas."
"And about me and Rose," Fili added quickly, earning the same mixed look from the dwarf girl. "I still didn't have the courage to talk to him about it... I guessed he would've been furious."
Vanyra didn't know how the lads had felt in that moment, asking for her reassurance. She had loved the same person for decades, and he was a dwarf so it wasn't a problem. The only problem was her own childish behaviour and shyness that kept her from confessing her feelings. On the day when Smaug came Dwalin was looking for her, and he found her around the ruins of Dale. She was trying to gather the lost children, and once he laid his eyes on her the amount of relief in that dark gaze was truly astonishing. Vanyra wanted to tell him, more than anything, but she knew it wasn't the right time. She regretted it ever since.
So no, she didn't know what Kili and Fili felt. She only knew that hiding her feelings was overwhelming after a certain amount of time, and she would've never wanted the lads to experience that. She came up with the best answer she could think of.
"I am pretty sure he was outraged when he first realised, for we are talking about Thorin here," Vanyra rolled her eyes with a shrug, but she eventually looked back at the youngsters and started smiling gently. "But then, he realised that your happiness is more important than an old conflict or the difference of kins. Believe me, the way he talked about Rose and Legolas, he is fond of them, truly. He is so bad in pretending, I could tell immediately if he was lying."
"Really?" Fili and Kili asked in sync, huge, goofy smiles spread on their faces like two youngsters who got their first beads in their hair.
"Really," Vanyra nodded, ruffling their hair with her hands. They let her, giggling and struggling a little bit, and the girl eventually pulled back her arms with a huge breath. "And now, get out of my sight, this room is still not worthy for a dwarf woman."
"But we want to hear more about uncle!" Fili started moaning when Vanyra stood up. She grinned.
"I'm not going anywhere, we still have plenty of time to gossip about the king. But right now," she grabbed the bedsheet with both of her hands, then jerked it so suddenly that the lads almost tumbled to the floor, "you are occupying my bed!"
Fili and Kili, given that they were skilled warriors, landed on their feet but they still feared the strength of Vanyra. She started chasing them out of her room and they escaped quickly, their laughter echoing through the corridors.
Cheeky rascals, she thought to herself, moving back to her bed to set the bedsheets right. She still had to do many changes on the room, for Thorin gave her a free hand in altering the decoration and the setting-up for her own liking.
Not even a minute had passed when Vanyra heard hurried steps approaching her door, and she straightened with a soft smile. She stood with her back to the door, not seeing who it was but it wasn't too hard to guess who it might've been.
She turned around slowly.
"My dear lad, you obviously don't know when to sto-"
Half of the sentence faded on her lips, never quite finishing the words, and she stared at the door in awe. It wasn't Fili or Kili, neither was it Thorin.
It was Dwalin. Panting, probably from running, and staring at her with wide eyes, wider than she had ever seen before. His face was unreadable, but she wouldn't have been able to read off the feelings anyway for her mind was completely blank. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, faster and faster with every passing second, and she took a tentative step forwards.
"Oh dear Mahal," she breathed, never removing her eyes from the older dwarf. He was rooted to the doorstep, not moving an inch. "Dwalin-"
"You have been here... for hours now," he spoke lowly, his voice slightly incredulous and full of shock at the same time. Vanyra swallowed hard.
"I wanted to go and see you," she started, looking at him with pleading eyes. She feared he would be angry. She really didn't want that to happen, and now, it seemed luck wasn't by her side. "I just... The lads-"
"I haven't seen you for years, Vanyra," Dwalin interrupted again, more wryly this time. "Don't tell me the lads held you back."
"Look, I don't want to argue, fine?" Vanyra dropped the cloth she had been holding so far to the bed, walking even closer. There still had been a good distance between them, but she could already feel that typical, harsh scent that was so Dwalin that it sent shivers through her body. "I want to tell you something."
"No, you don't tell me anything, I am telling you something," the warrior finally moved, taking a few steps so they were even closer than before. Vanyra laughed shortly, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh.
"You don't understand, it is important," she looked up, an incredulous but anxious smile tugging at her lips. Dwalin was way too stubborn, of course, and she should've expected that, really.
"Cannot be more important than what I want to say."
He was so close already that their hands almost touched when Dwalin abruptly stopped in front of her. Vanyra couldn't even breathe anymore, she just stared up at the older dwarf and was thanking the gods she could stop speaking for now. She would've failed in confessing anything miserably.
Dwalin didn't speak, though, he just slightly parted his lips as he looked deeply into Vanyra's eyes. It was the moment she realised - she realised what the other wanted to say, and the huge smile broke its way through her worried expression at last.
Vanyra had always been taught to behave respectfully, especially in front of a male dwarf who had been older than her.
They had never told her not to act, though.
She grabbed the front of Dwalin's shirt before she could've thought about it twice and sealed those parted lips with her own.
It was a strange feeling, actually. She had been thinking about it for years, imagining how it would feel, what she would do if it actually happened. She had been kissed before, but she thought up this kiss so many times that it started to feel like it was her first one. Countless times she saw Dwalin's face in her mind, right after pulling away, his eyes still closed and lips still pink from meeting hers. It put her to sleep at night, and now that it was happening it awakened every sense in her body.
Dwalin wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and closer until it was physically impossible and Vanyra let herself. She let herself disappear in those strong arms, she let herself be completely consumed in the play of cold shivers and warm waves of affection, and she only pulled away when both of them were out of air. The sight of Dwalin's face was everything she had ever imagined and Vanyra smiled, more brightly than ever before. She gently caressed Dwalin's face, pulling him closer to lean his forehead against her own, and she caught herself chuckling soon afterwards.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked, his voice low but she could hear the smile in it without seeing.
"I just imagined Thorin's face," Vanyra grinned, and Dwalin's growl only made her laugh even more.
"He has his own burglar to think about," he muttered and soon silenced Vanyra with another kiss.
"I think it just talked to me."
"Don't be ridiculous, you haven't even worn it!"
"It doesn't matter, it can still talk to me!"
"Ye just imagined!"
"Don't bother yourselves," Balin interrupted the ever growing whispering of the dwarves around the table, and the said members of the company looked up as if they had been caught in some mischief. They fell silent immediately, and Bilbo smirked. "Our burglar shares important information with us, and you are interrupting him, lads."
"Sorry, Master Hobbit," Glóin bowed his head, still eyeing the ring on the table. It seemed to draw their attention, so most of them weren't even paying attention to the hobbit fully, they just stared at the magic ring.
"It's fine," the hobbit smiled, his face soon falling when he looked back at the ring. He felt an itching on his palm to grab it and hide it from the others, and he felt like something inside him was keeping him from sharing more information on it. Information such as the ring talking to him for days now.
Just like at the moment as well.
"So, you are saying that the ring is talking to you?" Balin asked patiently, seemingly being the only one in the company who still cared more about Bilbo than about the ring. It eased the hobbit only the slightest bit. He nodded.
"It is so strange," Bilbo furrowed his brows, entwining his fingers so he wouldn't reach for the ring. He had the weirdest urge to rush forward, grab it and never show it to anyone again, but he had his common sense still working and it kept him from doing anything stupid. "It draws me closer with every day, and... I am overprotective about it. I don't want anyone to see it. I feel sick to my stomach by only seeing that all of you are staring at it right now."
The dwarves looked up at that, seemingly trying to control themselves, and it automatically made Bilbo smile.
"Had it done anything else to you, laddie?" Balin asked, his voice silent and worried, and Bilbo's smile faded as he looked at the dwarf. The hobbit never liked when there was concern on his wise friend's face, for it usually meant that something bad was approaching. And it always turned out to be true.
Bilbo swallowed hard before answering, not quite sure whether he should've told it or not, but he eventually gathered enough strength and opened his mouth.
"I had some... vivid nightmares," he muttered, shrugging slightly like it wasn't important at all, but once Balin narrowed his eyes, Bilbo's stomach dropped. "It's always the same. I am on the desolation, Erebor and the Lonely Mountain are gone... And the ring talks to me. I put it on, and then I see..."
His voice cracked at that point, the sight of Thorin being dead haunting his mind. He had never been so desperate to forget something, to erase a memory from his mind completely, but he thought death would have more mercy on him than this wretched ring with its nightmares.
"What is it, laddie? What do you see?" Balin shifted closer, placing a hand on Bilbo's shoulder, and the hobbit took a deep breath. He kept his eyes on the ring, seeing his own reflection on its golden curve, and he felt like his whole chest was on fire.
He opened his mouth to answer, but a different voice came from behind his back, and he jumped up from his seat, utterly started.
It was the Elvenking, his face unreadable as always.
"May I have a word with your burglar?" he asked on his usual deep voice, but, despite the fact he was talking to the dwarves, he kept his eyes on Bilbo. The hobbit already had the ring in his hand, holding it tightly behind his back and never letting it go. He didn't trust the Elvenking, and seemingly he wasn't the only one.
"Why would you want to talk to Bilbo?" Glóin stood slowly, his voice dangerously low. Soon many of the dwarves were standing by Bilbo's side, frowning at Thranduil with disdain.
"I do not think that it is any of your business," the elf said as coldly and indifferently as he could, but the look in his eyes told an entirely different story. Bilbo knew if he didn't want war on that very spot he had to act, so he just turned to his friends and gave them a weak but reassuring smile.
"It's absolutely fine, I will be alright," the hobbit nodded, patting Glóin on the shoulder. The dwarf muttered something in khuzdul under his breath as he walked past the Elvenking, frowning at him with so much loathing that it was tangible in the air. Thranduil didn't seem concerned, though, he just sat down on the other side of the table, getting to the same level as Bilbo. The hobbit had no idea what the elf wanted from him, so he just kept silent and never let go of the ring in his hand.
"I know you don't trust me, halfling," Thranduil began, entwining his fingers on the table as he leaned on it, keeping the eye-contact firmly. "I haven't given you a reason to. However, I think it is only fair if I warn you about the great evil you are carrying."
Bilbo swallowed hard, not quite knowing what to say to that, and he started staring at the table instead. He felt foolish for showing around the ring with so little caution - what if the Elvenking wanted to take it from him? He trusted the dwarves and he knew they wouldn't have wanted to cause him such harm, but Thranduil might've still planned to somehow ruin their plans and stop them from rebuilding Erebor wholly. He couldn't let that happen.
"The old dwarf, perhaps called Balin if I am not mistaken knows about this power and about the effect it has on your mind," the Elvenking continued, and Bilbo only grew more and more anxious after every single word. "That ring has tempted many before you, and it caused destruction and wrack that only us, Elves can remember. I lived to see kingdoms rise and fall, and I lived to see some of them becoming mere ruins because of that ring you try to protect so keenly from me.
"You must know it is not me you should protect it from," Bilbo felt Thranduil's gaze becoming so intense on his skin that he felt forced to look up. The warning eyes of the Elvenking made his stomach twist and turn inside his belly. "It is you, burglar. You found it and you used it for the right purposes, but you shouldn't have it at you for any longer."
"Why?" Bilbo asked, his voice small and scared despite of the rage he felt inside. He wanted to shout at Thranduil, to question him why he wanted to take his ring away. But he didn't yell, he didn't insult the king, he just asked this small question and it burned his lips like acid.
"It is the one true ring, Bilbo Baggins," Thranduil answered silently, his voice barely a whisper as he leaned even closer. "It was forged by Sauron. It is poisoning you, filling you with evil. You are a loyal friend to these dwarves, I wouldn't have you become one of the dark ones."
"I don't understand," the hobbit shook his head, shifting back with his chair to regain his private sphere. The ring was whispering to him even now, reacting to everything the Elvenking said and it conflicted him more than anything. "Why would you help me? Why would you care?"
Thranduil fell silent at that, eyeing Bilbo for a while before taking a deep breath and straightening. He seemed so tall all of a sudden that Bilbo had to look up to see his eyes, and he felt a slight wave of admiration washing over him. He looked so different that it shocked the hobbit to his bones.
"The dwarves like to think that I am a monster, but I have always cared for my people. I didn't fight the dragon because I wished to protect my soldiers. I tried to keep Legolas close to me so he wouldn't stray from the right path, so he wouldn't stray from his home. Now he is in love with a dwarf, and what can I do to protect him? To show him that I am still his father?" Thranduil asked, rendering Bilbo absolutely speechless with his cold words. He still didn't show any emotions on his face, but the hobbit could see everything in his eyes and hear everything from his voice. "All I can do is to start looking after you. I am willing to sign that peace pact when the time comes, I am willing to protect the dwarves if I have to, all of this because of my son, because of my kin. So tell me, burglar... Am I a monster? Am I heartless?"
The first thing that crossed the hobbit's mind was how happy Kili was going to be once he heard that Thranduil gave his blessings. He knew it was silly to immediately think about that, but he couldn't help it.
And that was when he realised that he was smiling and the ring stopped whispering. That was when he realised he didn't feel the anger, and his fingers uncurled from around the ring. That was when he raised his hand and placed the ring on the table, letting Thranduil eye it for a while before their eyes met again.
"What should I do?" Bilbo asked, silently but steadily, and there was a glimmer of satisfaction in the Elvenking's eyes. It wasn't mean, it wasn't cunning, it was pure and simple satisfaction with the mix of a smile that tugged at his lips at the same time.
"You must put it somewhere where no one can ever find it again," Thranduil's face suddenly faded into grimness again, making Bilbo's heart skip a beat. "You must hide it, and you must resist its calls. It will whisper to you for a long time afterwards, but you must remain strong, halfling."
"Can't I destroy it?"
"There is only one way to destroy the ring, but that is beyond your powers, hobbit," the Elvenking stood from the table, still looking down at Bilbo with his serious expression. "Hide the ring, and never reveal it again. That is something you, and you alone can do."
He was already halfway through the door when Bilbo jumped to his feet, the ring already in his vest pocket. The hobbit regretted his sudden movement immediately, but it was too late for backing out.
"Is there any chance you have seen Thorin somewhere?" Bilbo yelled after Thranduil, making the Elvenking stop and look back at him in wonder. He immediately felt his cheeks warming up, so he decided to come up with a reasonable explanation quickly. It was hard to speak without stuttering like a wee hobbit lad. "I... I have been looking for him all day, but I still can't find my way in Erebor it seems."
Better than nothing, he thought to himself, and Thranduil only nodded.
"One floor below the corridor where our chambers are placed. That is where you find your king."
Your king. It echoed through Bilbo's head for long minutes after Thranduil had already left the hall, and the halfling caught himself smiling. Finally, the ring stopped speaking and he knew what he had to do.
He felt proud to be a Took in that very moment.
Bilbo didn't have to look for very long to find Thorin.
There was only one door opened on the corridor; slightly, though, but Bilbo pointed it out immediately. He approached with his heart beating heavily in his throat.
He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know whose room it was, he didn't know what Thorin was doing inside, he didn't even know why he came. All he felt was a magnetism in his chest, pulling at his limbs and drawing him closer and closer until he was not capable of resistance anymore. He had to realise that maybe, just maybe, this feeling was too deep to simply withstand it. Maybe it was effecting his mind even more than the ring, only in the most confusing way possible. The ring was pure evil, making him see things no living would've wanted to see, but the love he felt contained the most joyous feelings he had ever experienced. Bilbo wanted to embrace it and only keep the good, to lock out the bad.
He found himself at the doorstep sooner than he thought, and he immediately spotted out Thorin. The king stood with his back to the door, staring at something intently on a table, never quite noticing that he had company. Bilbo was a good burglar, light on his feet and small enough so his breathing wasn't audible either, and this ability didn't abandon him this time.
The dwarf king was practically naked as Bilbo took him in with his eyes. A thin linen shirt was all that covered his upper body, providing the hobbit perfect sight at the muscles on his back and at the wide shoulders. Bilbo felt a lump growing in his throat as he walked closer, his gaze sliding lower and lower. Dark trousers, a pair of boots, and Orcrist hanging on his side... The hobbit smiled to himself at that. It seemed like the dwarf was ready for everything. And how right he was.
Bilbo stood there for a while longer, not knowing what to say or how to break the silence. He didn't want to frighten the king who was seemingly deep in his thoughts, reading papers that lay on the table in front of him. From what the hobbit could tell by simply looking around in the room, it used to belong to someone with exceptional carelessness, for clothes, boots and weapons lay everywhere Bilbo turned. On the bed, on the sofa, on the tables and on the chairs, basically everywhere. Most of them were scattered all around the floor, and, from their style and their look, they seemed like royal belongings for the hobbit.
And that is when he realised whose room they had been standing in.
He wasn't quite aware of the sound he made until Thorin turned around violently, his hand already on the hilt of Orcrist. The hobbit stepped back in bewilderment, blinking at the king like he was pointing his sword at his throat, but Thorin did nothing like that. Softness replaced the grim expression on his face, and he pulled back his arm immediately, letting it hung by his side.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, nothing harsh in his voice as he spoke, and Bilbo swallowed hard before tearing his eyes away from Thorin. He suddenly felt really awkward for barging in without knocking first, and he felt his cheeks burning up from the embarassment.
"I... I just saw the door open and... I was passing by..."
He decided he would rather stay silent than stuttering like a kit, and he kept his eyes strictly on the wooden floor. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, only Thorin's footsteps disturbing the smoothness of the frosted surface. Bilbo tried to calm his own heartbeat with every cell in his body, but he failed miserably and he already regretted ever thinking about coming after the dwarf.
Thorin didn't answer for a few moments, but the hobbit could feel his intense look on him. He didn't dare look up, though, so he just waited until the king took a deep breath and finally broke the silence.
"It used to be my room before Smaug came," the dwarf started casually, like he was talking about it to everyone on a daily basis. Bilbo peeked up at him from under his eyelashes, glad to see that the dwarf wasn't looking at him anymore. He had a nostalgic smile on his face, almost bittersweet, and Bilbo knew he was deep in his thoughts. "It's exactly as I last saw it. Untidy, mostly."
They silently laughed at that, their voices filling the sad little room with life after so many years. There were only a couple of candles lighting up the walls, but they were enough to show Bilbo the gentle expression on Thorin's face. They were staring at each other, so it could've been addressed to no one else. It actually planted warmth in Bilbo's body, warmth he missed for so long.
Their laughter slowly faded, and they were left standing there without a word, looking at each other. It felt like they just had a conversation without words, only their eyes communicating, and Bilbo couldn't help smiling somehow. It was a comfortable moment that he never wanted to end, and he knew for sure that Thorin felt the same way.
"My mother's room is the one at the end of this corridor," Thorin said silently, his voice shaking ever so slightly at the word 'mother'. Bilbo's heart started aching immediately. "Next to that, there is my brother's, and then there's my sister's. Knowing that this corridor is never going to be the same again, doesn't matter how quickly we rebuild Erebor... It pains me, Bilbo. Do you know what I am talking about?"
Yes, I know exactly, Bilbo wanted to say, but his throat was too tight for words. My parents are dead as well. I had to bury them, I had no siblings to help me. I had to clean their rooms after they died, I had to pack their belongings, I had to put away their clothes, knowing they would never wear them again. My best friend wasn't there to help me. I had no one but my parents, and then, they had been gone. Yes, I know exactly.
He wanted to tell all of these things, he wanted to give an answer that was worthy of how Thorin opened up back in Beorn's Hall. Instead, all he was capable of was a nod and taking a few steps closer to the king.
"I'm sorry, Thorin," he muttered finally, his voice barely a whisper. Thorin kept looking at him with those unreadable, crystalline eyes that Bilbo was so fond of, and they stood so close already that they all but shared the same breath. The king broke the melancholic silence after a long pause, a small smile spreading across his face. It only drew Bilbo's eyes to his lips, and the hobbit couldn't look away afterwards.
"I am happy Fili and Kili will be here to give back Erebor's old bouncing atmosphere," the dwarf sighed, moving his eyes around the room without actually moving farther away from Bilbo. "I was slightly worried about that. Also, have you met Vanyra? I will have to introd-"
Thorin was cut off halfway in his sentence in the most unusual way once he turned his head back to Bilbo. Even his eyes remained open for a moment, not quite digesting what was happening. Bilbo was kissing him, effortlessly and simply by holding onto his forearms. Thorin's eyes fell closed a bit too late, for the hobbit already pulled away, and the king looked at him with absolute awe.
The hobbit's cheeks were all but glowing in pink, his eyes frantically moving around, carefully avoiding Thorin's, and the king started smiling gently.
"Bilbo..."
"You don't... have to say anything," the halfling stuttered, anxiously eyeballing a spot on Thorin's chest. It only made the dwarf smile wider. "I just... I don't know what was I thinking."
"Bilbo," Thorin tried again, but was answered with a quick shake of head.
"I can apologise if you wish, really. It was stupid from me. I-"
"Bilbo, look at me."
The hobbit had never felt more awkward in his whole life. He had not the faintest idea on what had gotten into him, kissing the king just like that, and he knew it was a terrible mistake. He didn't intend on obeying, obviously, and he already wanted to take a few steps back and, if the time seemed fitting, preparing to be ready for a run back to his room, when the king gently touched his jaw and raised his head. Their eyes met, and the smile on Thorin's face was something Bilbo could've never even dreamed about being on the receiving end of. His lips slightly parted as he stared at the king, and he soon caught himself holding onto Thorin's hand, entwining their fingers with his shaking one.
He could barely hear his own thoughts from his heartbeat, but there was no need for that. The king didn't say anything, he just leaned forward and kissed him again, not just a peck of the lips, but a real kiss this time.
And Bilbo let himself gladly.
There was no rejection, no short circuit, only need and love radiating from the both of them. Bilbo clung to Thorin so desperately like he needed to feel the dwarf's lips on his own more than how he needed air, and Thorin hadn't been any different. His fingers were lost in his burglar's hair, holding him so close that there was not an inch of space between their bodies. Thorin coaxed the hobbit's mouth open with his tounge, tasting every bit of the halfling and breathing into the kiss softly. He would've never thought he needed this so badly, not until he was there and kissing Bilbo with everything he had.
Then, he realised how much he actually longed for it, and he smiled into the kiss.
There wasn't anything better than feeling Bilbo smiling back.