Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.
14. The Oldest Medicine
When Kíli opened his eyes later that evening, it was to find that his quiet corner had been invaded. The first emotion was hot anger and resentment as everyone was laughing. Had they no consideration for the wounded, carrying on as if he were not even there? What if he had wanted only to be left alone to sleep? From where he lay next to Fíli, he could see Thorin, Bofur, Dwalin, Kifir, Gimli, Lis, Therin, Frodo, Nast, Legolas and Tauriel as well.
The next, however, was sheer relief in such waves that it almost made his head spin more than the concussion had. Whether he had merely dreamed of spilling his secret to Tauriel or not, he didn't know, but she had obviously not spoken of it to anyone else, or they would not be willingly around him now. For most serious transgressions, dwarrow practiced shunning instead of imprisonment or physical punishment, and telling the enemy of his uncle's plans to retake Erebor, no matter how innocently, was definitely serious enough to merit it, whether he was a prince or not. Only treason, murder, and rape were punishable by execution in dwarrow society, and only because vast experience had taught that the perpetrators of such crimes were a threat to the innocent for as long as they lived.
Of course, Kíli had been practicing his own form of self-punishment since realizing what he had inadvertently done, though it had not been a conscious choice upon his part. He had been slowly withdrawing from many of his old friends, and assigning himself the most onerous duties he could, the very image of an austere, self-sacrificing ruler. That had been disrupted by his unplanned dip into love.
In fact, he had known he was in trouble the very first time he met Vestri, so from the second time, he began deliberately starting fights with her to push her away. That had actually worked for six long, torturous months, until they were stuck waiting in a room for their respective siblings and she had begun screaming at him, asking why he felt such a need to anger her. Unable to deny it any longer, he had finally broken down and told her as tears streamed down her face and he felt like the lowest creature upon Middle Earth.
He had also told her the truth about why he felt he was unworthy of such love. That had earned him a black eye, the lady in question definitely possessing her father's renowned temper, but not for the act, for believing that it was necessary to punish himself in the first place and for putting her through the months of anguish. She had been working to force him into seeing that his self-imposed punishment did not preclude happiness with his family, but he adamantly refused to speak with Thorin or Fíli about the true reason for his attitude. Nor had Vestri interfered with what he saw as his duty as the chosen of the Arkenstone, supporting his coming to Khazad-dûm even when she alone knew the full depths of what he would suffer mentally and physically by doing so. She had, however, extracted a solemn promise not to spurn the aid of Fíli and the healers, as well as to be careful.
Thinking of his fiery wife brought a small smile to the prince's face as he marveled once more at the luck he had to find a dwarrowdam such as her. His brother's voice broke him from his ruminations just in time to catch the end of his sentence and the eruption of renewed laughter from the company as Fíli sat somewhat red-faced in the firelight.
"-that's why I'm not allowed to make anything in the kitchen ever again."
"Very good, cousin, but you'll have to do better than that to win this round."
Gimli was chuckling as he slowly roasted a bit of sausage over the fire, his wife snuggled into his side trying to stifle her giggles. Kíli perked up, interested despite himself, slowly hoisting himself to a seated position as Fíli immediately turned around and fussed with his pillows. The others had fallen silent, apprehensively watching him while trying to appear that they were not and Kayli sighed, knowing he needed to reach out lest they worry more and speak of sending him home again. Kifir appeared with another bowl of chicken broth, which the prince began sipping on as he regarded the others, flashing what he hoped was an approximation of his usual grin.
"So, what's the challenge tonight?"
This was a tradition that had begun back in Minas Tirith, when he and Fíli were still bed bound and Thorin not even coherent with a high fever and infected wound. To keep the princes occupied, members of the Fellowship of the Ring had taken to congregating in their rooms, challenging one another to relate some incident in their lives. The best so far had been the recounting of the best pranks they had each pulled, though it was still annoying that Legolas had won that round!
"Embarrassing moments, the more public, the better. I went first."
Fíli informed him, one hand automatically going to his brother's forehead to check for fever, which Kíli decided to ignore.
"And your Durin's Day cooking disaster was the best you could come up with? I'm disappointed in you, brother. I know our cousin has one better than that, for the stones showed me on the stairs."
He grinned as Gimli gaped, turning pale, then a red that was fast approaching the color of his beard.
"Y-you didn't!"
The redhead sputtered, while Frodo and Legolas both hastily covered growing smiles. Therin leaned forward, eyes gleaming as he grinned at his pledge-brother.
"Well, give, Gimli. What happened?"
The dwarf in question huffed, gazing around as if seeking someone to step in and relieve him of the need to relate the memory, but no one did.
"Fine. But this is under strenuous protest!"
"C'mon, Gimli, that's not how this works, and you know it! Or perhaps you would rather we ask Legolas and Frodo…?"
Bofur smile widened along with his eyes as the councilor attempted to seem innocent and helpful, something all among this group well knew he was not, Kíli was sure. His last avenue of escape cut off, their victim hastily shook his head.
"NO! No, I'll tell it. Hold your horses. Just as well, since my most embarrassing moment came right here in Khazad-dûm. We were fleeing from those cursed goblins down the stairs and part of it crumbled in front of me. I started to fall, only to have Legolas grab hold and pull me back."
"I fail to see how that's embarrassing." Dwalin growled, eyeing his younger cousin sternly. "You're still cheating."
"He…um…grabbedmebythebeard!"
The ending was spat out in such a rush that it took a moment for Kíli to sort out the sounds into intelligible words instead of a lump of gibberish, even though he already had an idea as to what the other dwarf must have said. He felt his lips twitch even as his head gave a warning lurch not to laugh all that hard. He needed this! To just relax, banishing not only the images of the dead from him, but his fears as well! Around him, the company erupted in shocked shouts and laughter as most of the others also caught on, poor Gimli going even redder at the good-natured teasing. After one particularly sharp remark from Dwalin, the redhead scowled at his cousin.
"'Tis not half as embarrassing as what your brother did, so just- just-"
"Oh ho, but that is a good one, lads, and done by our own Balin, no less!"
It was obvious that Bofur knew exactly what Gimli was referring to, being quick to take up the narrative as he grinned wickedly at all around the fire.
"That wasn't intentional, Bofur!"
Nast instantly objected.
"So? That was never one of the rules, was it?"
"No, it wasn't." Thorin's deep voice cut in decisively. "Besides, I would like to hear what my cousin did that would qualify for this round."
"You'll enjoy it, Thorin, make no mistake." Bofur sounded entirely too cheerful, making Fíli turn and mouth 'Uh oh' at his brother. "It has to do with your young namesake, his son, Thorin. I don't know that you and the lads have had time to look over the records for what happened immediately after the Battle of the Five Armies, but our young prince earned his name there. He was hit hard enough over the head with an orc mace to lay out many a less stout dwarrow, but continued to fight as if he didn't even feel it, so Dain proclaimed him 'Thorin Stonehelm.' Now, some of us were a wee bit put out with our new king after all was said and done, especially when young Thorin started to make some less than diplomatic remarks about our lads over there. Óin heard about it and muttered that the boy didn't have a head injury because his entire head, not his helm, was made of granite. Naturally enough, some of the other youngsters, including our Gimli here, picked up on it. Now, it might have ended there, but about six months later-"
"That's because the fool's head was stone!"
Gimli muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Hush, lad, I'm just getting to the good part." Bofur cleared his throat and stood, one hand going into the front of his tunic. "About six months later, Balin was introducing the royals to some folks from Gondor and the Stonefoot clan." His voice turned more serious, doing a rather impressive imitation of the older dwarf. "And let me make known to you our Crown Prince, Thorin III Stonehead… er…Helm."
Laughter erupted and Kíli grabbed his head, wishing the mirth did not hurt so much, it felt so good to allow his worries to slip aside and just enjoy himself.
"Ow…" He could not help the low moan even as he smiled, "So what happened next? Did Dain ever forgive Balin?"
"'Course he did." Dwalin grunted, ignoring the wounded look of their interrupted storyteller. "But the next morning there was a proclamation that from now on, the lad's name was Thorin Stronghelm. Who's next?"
Bofur made a show of scanning the others before grinning wickedly at the princely brothers.
"Kíli, I think. C'mon, lad, give, I know you have plenty of less than well thought out shenanigans in your past. Certainly one ended in a way to leave ya blushin'!"
Kíli grimaced, wishing his councilor had left him out of this one. He had just begun to truly relax, and now he wanted the prince to embarrass himself! As his eyes slid past the hatted dwarf, however, they lit upon Dwalin and he relaxed, a small smile playing on his lips as he caught sight of one particular tattoo, a small war hammer near the warrior's temple. That would be safe enough. Making a show of reluctance, Kíli fidgeted before clearing his throat.
"Fine, if none will take pity upon the wounded. When I first began training, Dwalin thought to try me with a war hammer. It didn't go so well."
"That would be the understatement of the age!"
Dwalin grumbled, fingering the spot Kíli had previously been staring at.
"I, um, may have not seen Dwalin coming up behind me and decided just then to try a fancy move I had seen some others doing where you swing it over your head to take out an enemy behind… Just to see what it would be like, you understand. I wasn't daydreaming or anything of that ilk-"
"Knocked me clean out!"
The warrior chucked a piece of bread at the prince, who ducked, laughing a bit before it morphed into a wince.
"At least you did not shoot your king in the butt with an arrow."
Legolas' dry statement brought a moment of stunned silence as every head swiveled to stare at him in shocked disbelief. It was Tauriel, however, who was turning as red as her hair, glaring at the elven prince even as he smirked at her.
"Legolas! You swore never to speak of that again!"
"Let me get this straight, lass." Bofur leaned forward, intent. "You shot King Thranduil in his ass with an arrow?"
"I… Yes. I was quite young, less than a hundred, and it was my first lesson with a bow."
"I'm amazed she's still alive."
Dwalin muttered to Thorin, just loudly enough for the rest to hear it in the brief conversational lull. The king nodded before tilting his head at Therin, Lis, and Frodo, who were carrying on a whispered conversation of their own.
"And what is this? My niece and nephew conspiring with a hobbit?"
Therin flushed, shooting up straight and Kíli almost groaned. It seemed that his younger brother was pricklier than a porcupine lately, but instead of getting indignant, the prince grinned.
"Sorry, uncle, we were debating who was going to relate our little incident. This is for all three of us, and Merry and Pippin."
"Why does that not surprise me?"
Gimli grumbled, giving the young hobbit a fond look before turning a slightly sterner glare upon his wife and marriage-brother. Bofur grinned across at them.
"Was the Shire still standing when you lot were done, lad?"
"The Shire was, Hobbiton market, however… After Frodo came to live in BagEnd with us, Bilbo usually allowed us to have market day to ourselves provided we didn't cause trouble. On this particular day, Merry and Pippin had come for a visit, so we were showing them around."
"They challenged my dear twin to prove how much stronger than a hobbit we dwarrow are."
Lis interjected somewhat tartly.
"So we went around lifting things. A pumpkin, the lace maker's table, Farmer Wart's pig, that sort of thing. Pippin decided those weren't hard enough and asked if I could pull the wooden support for one of the market tents from the ground. I, um, did, but lost my balance in the mud."
"The whole tent went over, hit the next one, and that one hit the one after that…" Frodo rolled his eyes, sharing grins with his fellow culprits. "It might have ended with only a bit of a mess if Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had not panicked and thrown her umbrella. It came down upon the pig, which bolted, knocking her into the pond in front of the Green Dragon!"
"I thought Mother was going to come all the way from Erebor and drag us home by our ears when she heard!"
Therin's rueful mutter, directed at the floor as he would not raise his head, set the entire company to laughing.
"You are not the only one to run afoul of Dis' temper, lad."
At Dwalin's words, Thorin's eyebrows shot up, looking incredulous, and received a somewhat reluctant nod in return. Kíli could almost hear them talking through that short, silent conversation; 'Are you really going to tell them? Might as well.' His uncle and the armsmaster were closer than some brothers, even among dwarrow, a look sufficing where most would have needed speech to understand. He and Fíli would do it often enough, as did Vestri and Austri, driving poor Dis to distraction if she was in the vicinity. The warrior cleared his throat, all eyes suddenly upon him.
"This happened when I was a child in Erebor. Glóin and Frérin had been told by their older brothers that they were too young to take part in the war games that day, and Balin tasked me with watching them. So, we decided to prove how well we had learned about ambushes. Frérin found some rotten tomatoes from the rubbish heap, and we were waiting around a corner when we heard what we thought was Thorin, Balin and Óin returning from the training area and threw."
"You couldn't have missed!"
Kifir blurted out, eyes wide as he leaned forward. Thorin let out a snort, exchanging another glance with his shield brother.
"No, they did not, but Balin, Óin and I had been delayed."
"Who did you hit, then?"
Bofur asked, a wide grin on his face as his eyes glittered in merriment. It was not often that anyone could persuade Dwalin to tell such tales! The warrior scowled at his old companion, but decided to answer, Thorin's lips already twitching suspiciously.
"Thrór and Thrain, who had Dis in his arms dressed in some frock she had just gotten from Dale."
Kíli could not imagine his grandfather and great-grandfather, both of whom he only knew through stories, standing there with rotten tomato running down their faces, but his mother! Oh, he could well imagine the screech that Dwalin would have been treated to, even with her still a small child! And from Lis' scowl and Therin's horrified face, so could they! Thorin was already laughing, however, and the others soon joined in, finally sobering a bit when Fíli managed to gasp out a question.
"Who's next?"
"The elven princeling."
Dwalin instantly answered, face still a bit red and thunderous. Legolas merely raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he thought about his answer.
"That would have been in Rivendell, and like you, involved a maneuver I witnessed in practice. Glorfindel, who served as arms master for Lord Elrond, would challenge his warriors by proposing unusual training circumstances; in this case, a frozen pond and surrounding snowy hills. As I watched, I saw one of the warriors slide down the embankment and under an opponent, catching him unawares. Now, I could not try this outside as I was forbidden to go alone and had no wish for an audience should I fail, so I found the closest slick sloping surface instead – one of the banisters on the stair in the library wing. I found my balance and began sliding only to realize someone was ascending. While attempting to jump off, I slipped, sliding the rest of the way down only to have my leggings hook upon the bottom of the banister and partially rip, leaving me hanging in front of the ones I had heard. Which was, naturally enough, my father, Lord Elrond, and Lord Glorfindel."
"By my beard, I'm actually beginning to like you, elf!"
Dwalin spluttering, slapping a knee hard as he almost tipped over backwards as he roared with mirth.
"Aye, I'd like to see anyone top that one!" Gimli grinned at his friend.
"Bofur!"
Fíli merrily called out the next to relate their tale to the scowl of the councilor.
"I already-"
"That was Balin, not you. Doesn't count."
Dwalin was quick to point out, scarred eyebrow raising pointedly at the other dwarf. Bofur shook his head, setting his hat's flaps to bouncing up and down.
"Now, I don't know that I have-"
Thorin snorted.
"Yes, you do. I seem to recall a particular incident at your brother's pledging."
"Thorin! That was an accident!"
"What did he do?" Fíli was quick to ask his uncle, though it was the still sputtering councilor who answered.
"I may have, accidently, mind you, backed into a bit too close proximity to one of the lamps, well, it was really more of a torch as it didn't have-"
"Bofur!"
Several voices rang out together, making the dwarf huff.
"Fine. I set fire to me hat."
Two heartbeats, and the company was roaring with laughter, but not before a rueful mutter was heard, though none would ever admit to being the speaker.
"Well, he won that one."