21

NOW COMES THE DAY

After hearing Thorin's thunderous growl from the closed room, Dwalin was not surprised to see Fíli and Kíli storm out a few minutes later, nearly slamming the door behind them. Their jaws were set, and while Kíli looked hurt and bewildered, blue fire flashed in Fíli's eyes. The elder prince's gaze darted around the room, flicking across each member of the Company dismissively until it lit on the two that had just come out of the hallway. The change that came over the lad's face then caused a lump to rise in the bald warrior's throat, and it told him more than any words about what had grown between the prince and the lass from Emyn Uial. Fíli's expression eased when he saw the Dwarrowmaid, the anger in his eyes banking to fierce affection as he strode to her side, his dark-haired shadow only a step behind. Viska glanced up with a smile, but something in his face gave her pause and those intelligent green eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Care for some company in Laketown?" the prince asked with slightly forced cheer. Trisk cocked his head curiously, looking from his sister to Fíli and back again.

"Bifur not coming?" he asked quietly. The golden-haired lad hesitated and Dwalin spoke up, knowing Thorin probably would not be best pleased with his assisting this little rebellion, but unable to bring himself to care.

"Actually, I'd appreciate Bifur's help with my own project, if he doesn't mind," he commented, signing surreptitiously to the toymaker. Bifur responded with a wide grin and eager nod, then turned to the quartet, making shooing motions with his hands. Trisk shrugged and strode toward the door, Fíli and Viska just behind him as the lass tucked her scarf into place around her face. Kíli brought up the rear, tipping Dwalin a wink and a grateful smile.

The front door had barely closed behind the four young Dwarrow when the door to Thorin's study opened once more and the king himself strode out, his face set in an icy impassivity that was completely foreign to those who knew him. He did not pause, or even look around the common area, simply headed for his room as he barked a demand for Óin's personal blend of feverfew, which told Dwalin that the headache was back in full force. Grimacing, the warrior hurried into the study to find his brother standing silently near the window, his expression a neutral mask that might have fooled anyone else. Balin's pale blue eyes flickered toward the younger Dwarf and he could not conceal the worry they held. Dwalin grunted and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"What happened, nadad? I saw the lads. What was that about?"

Balin sighed and passed a hand over his face.

"They asked to stay behind in Laketown, rather than go to the Mountain."

"Ah." It surprised him, in a way, and yet it didn't. Not after what he had seen in Fíli's face in the common room.

"They argued that we did not all need to go, if the plan is merely for Bilbo to slip in and find the Arkenstone."

"They have a point," Dwalin commented quietly. "But I'm guessing Thorin didna' go for it?"

Balin met his gaze, his eyes deeply troubled. "It was not his refusal that troubled me, brother, but the manner of it. He insulted the lass, threatened the lads. Nadadith, he as much as said that he would disinherit them if they were not at his side when he entered Erebor."

The warrior's brow furrowed in angry confusion. "But I thought he liked the lass? You said-"

"I know what I said," the councilor snapped in irritation, waving a dismissive hand. "And it was what he said, but that was yesterday. Today...something is changing, brother. He was angry, then unsure, then cold. He speaks of the Stone, rather than the Mountain."

Dwalin nodded, his thoughts racing furiously. "He asked Óin for feverfew," he offered quietly.

"So his head is still bothering him..." Balin trailed off, a look of worried contemplation on his face. Dwalin stared at him.

"What is it, brother?" he finally asked. "You look as though you have remembered something."

"Headaches...phantom music...there is something familiar about those complaints," the older Dwarrow murmured thoughtfully. "Something I overheard, a conversation between our father and his brother. But I cannot remember more than that."

The big warrior reached out to clasp his brother's shoulder. "Then you will think on it, and we shall keep watchful eyes on our king," he replied gently.

* X *

Viska was surprised, but pleased, when Fíli and Kíli decided to join her and Trisk on their daily expedition into Laketown. The knowledge that the Company would be leaving for the Lonely Mountain with the next sunrise weighed heavily on the Dwarrowmaid's heart, and she had feared that preparations would keep them too busy for her to spend a few final hours with her two dear friends. She knew even before they left the house, however, that something was wrong. She had heard the rumble of Thorin's anger, and had caught Kíli's tense posture when she and Trisk had first entered the main room. The fact that Dwalin had stepped in to make it easier for the heirs to escape the confines of the house told her that he, too, had sensed the wild energy in the princes and judged it best to get them out of their uncle's way for the moment. Trisk also seemed to have caught a hint of the mood, judging from the sidelong glances he was casting at their companions, but he was the more patient of her father's children, and he waited until he had led them down a dead end walkway to a quiet area that they had discovered the previous day. There he took up a deceptively relaxed position leaning against a wall, eyes flicking between the two young Dwarves.

"So, what exactly happened back there?" he asked casually.

Kíli sighed and threw himself down on a large shipping crate with a groan. "We asked if we could stay behind."

"In Laketown? Tomorrow?" Viska demanded incredulously, eyes wide. "Why?"

"Why not?" Fíli countered with a shrug. "So far as I know, the plan is for Bilbo to slip in and get the Arkenstone, then everyone is to come back here to wait for Dáin. Why would that require all of us?"

The lass stared at him in consternation, her thoughts whirling. "But you are his heirs! Erebor is your home! You should be at his side! What were you thinking?"

She started as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, gripping tightly, and turned to meet Trisk's gentle eyes.

"He was thinking of you, namadith, and not wanting to leave you behind."

She stared at him for a long moment, then turned to stare at the golden-haired prince. Fíli met her gaze steadily and her shoulders sagged as the anger crumbled away.

"I take it Thorin is not in favor of that plan?" Trisk continued, looking at the princes. Kíli snorted and Fíli sighed and shook his head.

"It was more than that. He was angry – angrier than he should have been. There is something...different...about him, something wrong."

"He threatened to disinherit us," Kíli mumbled, his eyes wide with disbelief. Viska's brows rose incredulously.

"Surely not!"

"No, he's right," Fíli replied, his eyes dark with the memory. "Thorin said that we would enter Erebor at his side, or not at all."

"Amdâru Mahal..."

Kíli sighed explosively and got to his feet. "It's the Mountain."

"What do you mean?" his brother asked quietly. The younger prince's dark eyes flashed with frustration.

"Thorin's mood has grown darker, the closer we have gotten to the Mountain. That is what I mean, nadad. We grew up on Uncle's tales of the Mountain, Fíli, but we also grew up with Ma and Balin's tales of Thrór's madness. Tales that became more frequent as the quest grew in Thorin's mind. Did you think that happenstance?"

Fíli stared at him intently for a long moment before he shook his head and threw an arm around the younger lad's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

"No," he replied gently, mussing the archer's hair until he yelped and tried to pull away. "But I might not believe that my little brother is quite as thoughtless as he appears any longer."

Kíli pried himself free, an oddly solemn expression on his face as he looked at his brother and shook his head. "You never thought that, Fí. You are one of the few."

The implications of the conversation were making Viska's stomach churn with fear. She looked from one prince to the other. "Do you think Thorin will be corrupted by the gold sickness?" she demanded, remember the old tales of Thrór's madness. Brown eyes met blue in serious thought. Eventually, Fíli shook his head.

"No," he stated firmly. "He is strong, and he is honorable. If any of Durin's line can resist it, it will be Thorin Oakenshield."

* X *

The market of Laketown was more crowded than Kíli was expecting, though it was probably more a matter of limited space than excessive numbers of Men. Several vendors greeted them with smiles and small talk, having met and spoken with Trisk and 'Visk' during their previous visits. They were perfectly willing to extend that familiarity to the two new faces with only the briefest introduction and the young prince soon found himself answering hesitant questions about the craftsmanship of his gear.

"Mister Trisk! Mister Visk!"

The raven-haired prince turned to see a curly-haired girl child weaving her way toward the small group of Dwarves, her face alight with glee. He blinked in surprise as she came to a halt in front of the burly silversmith with a broad smile and made a clumsy curtsy that had Trisk chuckling and offering a small bow in return. The princes exchanged a bemused look and glanced at the siblings.

"Care to introduce us to your charming young friend?" Kíli asked with a small smile. The girl's eyes flickered to his face and she looked disappointed.

"You're not Mister Bifur," she accused with a slight pout. The younger prince gaped and looked to his friends for help. Trisk laughed, shaking his head.

"Bifur is busy today, so two of our other companions came with us instead," he explained. "My friends, may I present Miss Tilda of Esgaroth. And Miss Sigrid," he added as an older girl joined them. Kíli grinned and glanced at his brother. Fíli rolled his eyes, but nodded and smiled at the girls.

"Fíli..."

"...and Kíli..."

"...at your service!"

Tilda laughed brightly as they rose from their synchronized bow, and even Sigrid gave a quiet chuckle.

"Tilda is fascinated with Mister Bifur," the older girl explained apologetically. "She has been talking about him for two days."

"He's a toymaker. He made my squirrel," Tilda informed them eagerly, showing the little toy off. "He called me zars...zarsmun...um..."

"Zarsmuzmnatith," Trisk supplied. Tilda nodded.

"It means 'little squirrel.' And he's nice, even though he looks kind of scary."

"Yes, he is a very kind soul," Fíli agreed gravely. "And I am fairly certain that most of the toys that Kíli and I had as Dwarflings were made by Bifur. Our favorites were, I know."

Kíli nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. "Like the little articulated horse that Amad took away because we wouldn't stop fighting over it?"

"Precisely. And that was mine, by the way."

The archer frowned at him. "I distinctly remember Bifur giving it to me, big brother."

Fíli shrugged and shook his head. "Well, your memory never was that impressive, little brother."

"You wound me!" the younger lad protested, widening his eyes and clutching his chest dramatically. "Can you believe such callous words, Miss Tilda? And from my own beloved elder brother?"

Sigrid and Tilda were giggling madly as Viska chuckled behind her scarf and Trisk snorted a laugh. Fíli groaned, burying his face in his hands. They didn't notice the commotion that was a contingent of the Master's guard coming through the market until the Men were practically on top of them, shoving people out of the way indiscriminately.

"Here, you, out of the way! The Master's coming through!"

The guards' rude shoves had little effect on the Dwarves, but Tilda was much lighter and Viska lunged frantically as the girl toppled from the walkway toward the surface of the frigid lake. The child gave a short shriek, hands flailing as she splashed into the water.

"Tilda!"

Sigrid screamed her sister's name, trying to lurch past Trisk to the water, but he held her back, having already seen the golden-haired prince in motion. Kíli yelped at the sound of another, larger splash.

"Fíli!"

His elder brother was already in the lake, pulling the frightened child to him and treading water as he coaxed her into putting her arms around his neck. Once she was secure, he swam quickly to the edge of the walkway and handed the shivering girl up to Viska, then accepted assistance from Kíli and Trisk to haul himself out of the lake. Fíli shrugged out of his coat, accepting Trisk's with a grateful nod. The archer stripped off his own to wrap around the child and Sigrid scooped her up.

"You'll need to get her home, lass," Trisk told her. Sigrid nodded, then glanced at the soaked Dwarf prince.

"Please, all of you come with me. Our house is closer than where you are staying."

The four Dwarrow glanced at one another for only a moment before Kíli nodded.

"Lead on."

They hurried along after the anxious girl, her longer legs making her swift even on the uneven wooden walkway. Luckily it was not far – only around the corner and up a flight of stairs to the door of a small, neat home. Sigrid shouldered the door open, calling for her father, only to be met by a familiar, dark-haired Man. The Dwarves froze, unsure what to do, as the grim bargeman stared at his daughter in concern.

"Sigrid? What-?" His gaze fell on the younger girl, shivering in Kíli's worn blue coat, and he strode forward to scoop her up. "Tilda! What happened? Bain, grab a blanket for your sister!"

"And one for the Dwarf, please, Da," Sigrid interjected, turning to usher in her hesitant guests. "He rescued Til. The Master's guards knocked her into the lake – she didn't move out of the way fast enough."

"To be fair, I'm not sure that it was deliberate," Trisk murmured as the tall, curly-haired boy that they had seen the first day hurried into the room, blankets in hand. Sigrid grabbed one and bundled Tilda into it. Kíli held the other as his brother skinned out of Trisk's coat before accepting it gratefully. The girl's father sighed, a hint of anger in his face.

"It never is." He turned to offer a small bow to Fíli. "Thank you, Master Dwarf, for helping my little one."

Fíli nodded back graciously. "You are most welcome, Master Bard."

A tiny smile quirked the corner of the Man's mouth.

"Ah, you recognize me, then."

The golden prince arched an eyebrow. "Well, you did make an impression."

Bard nodded, a slightly worried look on his face. "It was not meant personally."

Fíli smiled. "I understand. Please, excuse my rudeness. I am Fíli, this is my brother, Kíli, and these are my friends, Trisk and Visk."

Bard smiled and offered another small bow. "The brothers that my girls have been chattering about for the past two days. It is nice to finally meet you." He turned, motioning them toward the fireplace. "Please, all of you, come get warm."

"I'll make some tea," Sigrid offered quickly. "Bain, fetch yesterday's bread, please."

Her brother nodded, taking his wide-eyed gaze off of the Dwarves for the first time since he had entered the room, and hurried to the kitchen area to get the remains of a loaf of bread and a knife as Sigrid hung a kettle of water on the fire. The Dwarves gathered at the fireplace, carefully moving Tilda to the warmest spot. Bard took a seat in a worn chair and pulled the girl into his lap, rubbing her arms briskly and snuggling her into his shoulder. His dark eyes studied his guests closely and Kíli felt like one of the bugs that Ori would stare at for hours as he sketched every detail. Finally, he raised a challenging eyebrow and met the bargeman's gaze. Bard smiled faintly.

"You look a lot like Thorin, son of Thráin," he commented quietly. "Enough to be his son, perhaps?" He turned toward Fíli, cocking his head curiously. "And you said you are brothers?"

Fíli met his gaze, then glanced at Kíli. The archer shrugged, leaving the decision to his elder brother, and the swordsman sighed.

"Not his sons, but his sister-sons," the fair-haired Dwarrow corrected. "Our mother is Thorin's younger sister. He has no sons."

"So, sons or sister-sons, you are his heirs?"
"We are."

The Man stared at him in silence, long fingers carding through Tilda's drying hair as the girl blinked sleepily. "You agree with his quest, or you would not be here," he stated finally. "Is the gold so important to you?"

Kíli stirred restlessly, but remained quiet when his brother shot him a quelling look. Trisk was watching the bargeman closely, while Viska silently helped Sigrid with the tea. Fíli met Bard's gaze with eyes the blue of a forge fire.

"Reclaiming our people's home is so important to us. Our folk have been in Exile for over a hundred years, while a dragon slept in the halls of our fathers. The same dragon that slew their kith and kin."

"He slew many in Dale, as well," the Man countered. "And if he wakes, it is not your folk who will suffer his wrath."

Kíli flinched, but his brother did not.

"You think Smaug will sleep forever?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious. "That he will remain forever content with what he has within the Mountain?"

"He has not been seen for sixty years," Bard replied, sounding slightly less sure of himself. The elder prince nodded.

"Thorin says the same. He even says that the beast might be dead. But the stories say that dragons live practically forever, unless they are killed. If the dragon does wake, would you rather it happened when the folk of Esgaroth are the only ones to stand against him?"

Bard did not answer for a long moment, his dark eyes studying each of the Dwarves in turn.

"You really think you can kill him?" he asked finally. "Your small band?"

Kíli glanced at his brother, and saw a warning to silence in Fíli's eyes. The Crown Prince shrugged slightly.

"Thorin has a plan," he replied carefully. "If it is successful, the people of Laketown should have plenty of warning to get to safety. If it is not, we will do whatever we can to protect your people."

Bard searched his face before finally nodding. "I will trust in your intentions," he said softly. "I believe that you will do what you can for my people. I still do not entirely approve of what your folk seek to do, but I understand your motivations for it."

* X *

Bilbo staggered out into the common room of the house, yawning hugely and stretching the kinks out of his arms as he looked around. Ori glanced up from his drawing, his face brightening at the sight of the Hobbit.

"Feeling better, Bilbo?" he asked quietly, setting his sketchpad to the side as he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen area. "Óin said you should wake up soon, and that you would be hungry as a bear when you did." He pulled a large cloth-covered tray from the counter and brought it out with a smile. "We saved you something to eat."

Bilbo nodded appreciatively at the little scribe and took the tray, his stomach growling ferociously at the tempting smells coming from beneath the cloth. Taking a seat at the table, he uncovered a veritable feast (compared to recent meals) and tucked in, asking questions in between bites.

"Where are the others?"

"Getting the last of the supplies together," Ori replied, returning to his pile of gear and his drawing, studying the picture critically. "Foodstuff, weapons. I think Balin and Thorin are speaking with the Master. Fíli and Kíli went out with Trisk and Viska to explore Laketown. Nori's out on the porch. No one trusts him to go into town, and Dori didn't want to leave me here alone while you were asleep, so..." he shrugged, rolling his eyes at his eldest brother's overprotective nature. Bilbo smiled.

"Well, I'm very sorry that you had to stay here and babysit me," he apologized. Ori laughed.

"Oh, no...I'd much rather be here sketching or writing," he assured the Hobbit. "I've caught up my journal, and I want to finish this picture before we leave, so I can give it to Viska." He looked suddenly thoughtful, even a bit bashful, before he held up his latest piece of art. Bilbo blinked. He had known Ori was talented with his sketches of plants and animals that they had encountered on the journey, and he had even drawn detailed pictures of their companions, and those they had met (the way he had captured the bottomless compassion of Beorn's eyes had stunned the Halfling), but this was a masterpiece, so much so that Bilbo felt he was intruding on a private moment simply by looking at the portrait.

Fíli stood beneath a tree, gazing at the Dwarrowlass before him with utter adoration in his eyes, his hands resting lightly on her waist. Viska's eyes were on his face, a smile teasing her lips as she tapped one finger against a bead on his mustache braid. The Hobbit had never seen either of the young Dwarves so unguarded, and he blinked against the sudden sting of tears in his eyes.

"That's wonderful, Ori," he assured his young friend, swallowing hard. Ori's eyes brightened and he glanced at the picture with a hint of pride.

"D'you think she'll like it?" he asked anxiously. "I want to give it to her before we leave, since she and Trisk will be staying in Laketown until we return."

"Oh, I think I can safely say that she will love it," Bilbo stated with conviction. "You have outdone yourself, my friend."

* X *

The sun was sinking toward the West as the four young Dwarrow made their way through the wooden maze of Laketown. Trisk and Kíli led the way, chatting quietly. Fíli and Viska hung back slightly, the golden-haired prince carrying his still-damp coat over one shoulder and stealing occasional peeks at his shorter companion as they walked. Even with her hood pulled up and the scarf concealing her face, she fascinated him. He wanted to commit every gesture to memory, learn every expression that crossed her face. She glanced at him a couple of times, then shook her head.

"If you have a something to say, do so," she commented finally, rolling her eyes. "It's disconcerting to be stared at so fiercely."

"I didn't realize that I was staring fiercely," he replied with a small laugh. "I thought I was just enjoying the view." He gave a startled grunt as a determined fist buried itself under his ribs and Trisk snorted a laugh as he glanced back at them.

"She bites and kicks, too," the silversmith warned with a half-smile. "Fought dirty since we were small."

The emerald eyes glinted dangerously and Fíli could imagine the deceptively sweet smile hidden beneath the scarf. "You were bigger," she countered with a shrug.

"So you were meaner," her brother agreed. "I just thought Fíli deserved a warning, namadith."

"Mind your own business, beloved brother," she murmured. Kíli glanced at her face beneath the hood, then his brother's, before turning to Trisk.

"Maybe we should give them a bit of time?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the house. Trisk hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He gave Fíli one last level look before striding off after the archer, leaving the fair-haired prince and the quiet Dwarrowlass alone on the walkway. Fíli blinked, staring after their departing brothers, then glanced at his companion.

"What was that?" Viska asked, tugging her scarf down a little to reveal a rather startled expression. He shrugged.

"I guess they thought we needed some time to talk?" he offered, starting after them at a slower pace. She fell in next to him, their shoulders touching as they walked.

"What would you like to talk about?" she asked finally, a small laugh in her voice. "Besides your overwhelming urge to go swimming in every body of water that we encounter?" Fíli thought for a long moment.

"Actually, there is something that I've wondered since Rivendell. Nothing urgent, obviously, just a...curiosity."

"Ask, then."

"Your name."

She turned to look at him, one brow raised quizzically. "You know my name."

"Most parents in the Blue Mountains don't follow the rhyming pattern for girls' names," he clarified.

"Ah." She walked in silence for a minute before she replied. "They don't in Emyn Uial, either," she admitted. "It was kind of an accident."

"An accident?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Amad and Adad never expected to have a daughter, so they did not pick a name for one. They had chosen Viskel to go along with Triskel. And suddenly, Da was being told that he had a wee lass, and what would he like to name her? And Ma was gone, so there was no one to talk to about it. So he just adjusted the name he already had to the situation."

Fíli watched the emotions play across her face before he spoke again.

"What was he like? Your Da?"

Her smile brightened, but her eyes filled with tears. "Kind," she answered promptly. "Sad, proud, but always kind. Fierce in defense of his people, and so determined to raise us to be strong."

"He succeeded."

She nodded gratefully, then gave him a considering look. "He would have liked you, I think," she decided. "Though he would have glared most ferociously, so you would not know it. He always told me that no Dwarrow would ever be good enough for his nâtha, but that he would not stand against any that I chose, so long as they were willing to stand up for me."

The prince smiled as he stepped up onto the low porch that ran along the front of the house where the Dwarves were staying. Light glowed in the windows, and they could hear the merry conversation of the Company inside, but he merely draped his coat on the railing and stepped into a dark corner to take a seat on a low bench. She joined him, leaning comfortably into his shoulder as wrapped a warm arm around her. Fíli sat quietly for several long minutes, simply enjoying her presence, lost in the soft sounds of her breathing. When he finally spoke, he broke the silence reluctantly.

"Durin's Day is two days from tomorrow."

Her breath hitched slightly, but her voice was steady when she replied. "Yes."

"We leave in the morning, and Thorin will not change his mind."

"No."

He hissed in frustration, tightening his grip on her shoulder and burying his face in the side of her hood. "Mahal, I hate this!" His words came out muffled with the fabric and his own emotions. "You have every right to be there, you and Trisk!"

She took his free hand and pulled it up to her face, planting a kiss on his palm. "Fíli, please, leave it alone," she murmured, her voice a low thrum. "Thorin has his reasons, and I understand them, even if it I hate being left behind. We are not being sent away. We will be safer than you, should the dragon wake."

He groaned softly, raising his head. "Hopefully, it won't come to that. If Bilbo can get in, get the Arkenstone, and get out, Thorin will be able to send for Dáin."

She turned to study him, eyes sparking in the firelight that shone through the windows.

"Will an army, even one from the Iron Hills, stand a chance against Smaug?" she asked seriously. He opened his mouth to reassure her, but the words would not come. He could never lie to her. Instead, he opted for hope.
"It won't be just the Iron Hills. With the blood of Durin, our Eldest line, and the Arkenstone in hand, Thorin can call on all seven clans. They swore to follow he who holds that stone. And remember, Erebor of old was unprepared for Smaug's attack. They had no warning."

She nodded, her eyes distant with thought. "Still, I am glad that Thorin plans to bring the Company back, rather than linger at the Mountain. The longer you are there, the more chance of waking that beast before the armies arrive."

He nodded absently, his concerns more immediate for the moment, and turned her face to hers so he could meet her eyes. He knew his voice was low and rough with worry, and he wondered again if he could truly do this, truly leave for Erebor with the sunrise, leaving her behind.

"Viska...kurdê...will you do me one favor? I do not know if the Master will do as he agreed, but I do not trust him. I would see you safe. I know you will be here, in town, but still...this is the world of Men, and Men do not think highly of Dwarves, no matter how their Master speechifies and promises. Of all the Men that we have met here, the only one I trust is Bard. At least he is open with his objections."

"And you saved his daughter," she pointed out with a small smile. He barked a sarcastic laugh.

"I wouldn't trust the Master if I'd saved him, but Bard seems honorable. If he would have you, would you and Trisk stay with him?"

She looked at him curiously, then finally nodded. "Kun," she replied with a small smile. "We will ask. We can help out, or Trisk still has some money."

He relaxed slightly, letting out a relieved sigh. "I will feel much better with you there."

She smiled at him, an odd glint in her eye and a mischievous set to her lips. "You do know that I am capable of looking out for myself?" she commented quietly. "And that Trisk has been my big brother for seventy-nine years?"

Fíli coughed. "I'm not trying to be your big brother-" he protested, fumbling for words to explain.

"Thank Mahal, because the feelings I have for you are not remotely sisterly."

"I am being someone who cares about you a great deal..." he trailed off, so intent on his explanation that he had almost missed her quiet confession. He stared at her, watching a flush creep up over her cheeks before he spoke again. "...and I think that is the most forward thing that a lass has ever said to me. And I love that you are blushing like fire, but you said it anyway." He pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head. "My brave, impetuous lass."

She snorted and pulled away, giving him a playful glare. "You like that I am embarrassed?"
He smiled, refusing to be baited, determined to make his meaning clear. "I like that you were embarrassed, but still spoke your mind," he told her firmly. "And I love your courage, your loyalty, your determination to help others." He placed a gently hand under her chin and tilted her face up so he could gaze into it, his chest tight with emotion. "I'm fascinated by the depths of those green eyes, and the red highlights in your chestnut hair, and that wistful smile that lights up your face."

"Very sweet words, my prince," she whispered, her eyes gentle as one hand came up to tug on a mustache braid. He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers.

"And I mean every one of them, tablûna," he promised.

He fully intended to kiss her. Only the briefest, sweetest of kisses, hopefully ending better than the one in Beorn's orchard, but his brother's timing was impeccable as ever. Just as he closed his eyes, the door to the house opened, spilling light across the porch, and Kíli's bright voice preceded the archer's arrival.

"Fí, Viska, are you hungry? Bombur's going to-oh! Sorry!"

Fíli's eyes flew open as Viska scooted away abruptly and he turned to see his brother frantically backpedaling, only to plow into Bofur as the miner tried to follow him out the door. Kíli tripped, Bofur reached out to steady him, and a soft thump followed by a yip of pain announced that Viska had accidentally scooted right off the end of the bench. The swordsman lurched to his feet, fighting to bury his amusement until he had made sure she wasn't hurt, but she was already laughing herself, her face buried in her arms. Kíli was bright red with embarrassment, Bofur chortling as he pushed by the young prince and bent to offer the lass a hand up. She accepted, but she was laughing so hard that she lost her grip and ended up right back on the wooden boards. Fíli slumped next to her, while Kíli pulled the door closed before the noise could draw anyone else, his blush fading as he stared at his brother and the lass.

"I have the worst timing in the world," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Or the best," Bofur countered, a wide grin on his merry face. "Back in Ered Luin, this'd be blackmail material for months."

"Oi!" Fíli protested, glaring at the miner. "No giving my brother ideas, Bof! He has plenty enough of his own!"

Viska had calmed and was watching their companion with an unreadable look on her face.

"You already knew, didn't you Bofur?" she asked quietly. "How long?"

Fíli gave her a startled glance. "How?"

Bofur offered her a hand once more, and this time succeeded in pulling her to her feet, then did the same for the golden-haired prince. "Well, 'how' is that I'm not as dim as I look," he replied with a grin. "Common mistake, that. 'How long' is since the pointy-eared princeling showed us what was in front of our own eyes for several blind months. Hard to miss the way the lad watches ya since, and you've worn your heart on yer face, lass, for any that have the eyes to see it." He wrapped an arm around each young Dwarf's shoulders and gave them a quick hug, his dark eyes sparkling with humor. "Now, as young Kíli was about to tell ya, m'brother is going to eat your shares of dinner if ya don't get to the table. Oh, and Dwalin asked me to tell ya that Thorin's mood isn't quite so dark, so it's safe to come in."

Translations and Notes:

nadad – brother (Khuzdul)

nadadith – little/younger brother (Khuzdul)

namadith – little/younger sister (Khuzdul)

Amdâru Mahal – Mahal's mercy (Khuzdul)

Amad – Mother (Khuzdul)

Adad – Father (Khuzdul)

nâtha – daughter (Khuzdul)

kurdê – my heart (Khuzdul)

Kun – Yes (in response to a positive question) (Khuzdul)

tablûna – apple lady (Khuzdul)