Heirs of What

| Part 3 |

-Places Beyond Hope-

Chapter (21) 'When Hurt finds a Home'

"Don't move so quickly, you'll lose sight and focus," Thorin called loudly.

"You don't fight slow uncle, I've watched you," Kili objected as he stopped and walked closer, his youthful face baring a look of frustration. "I don't understand why I can't without missing my steps."

Thorin smiled at his nephew. "You will, have a little patience and allow yourself a little practice. I have been wielding arms since I was younger than you."

"You just have to give it a little time lad," Dwalin intervened. "Even I stumbled a few times a first."

"I just," Kili frowned, "I'll just be glad when these mistakes are behind me."

"You should have seen your brother when he started. There were times he looked like a newborn deer out there," Dwalin laughed. "You remember Thorin?"

"Yes," Thorin grinned. "He was nearly as clumsy as you were."

"Look who you speak of," Dwalin balked. "If I was bad I'm not sure what that made you."

"Did Fili really have trouble too? At first?" Kili interrupted the dispute he knew would come without intervention.

"Indeed, he fell more than I think he would care to admit," his uncle answered.

"Are you talking about me? Filling my own brother's head with lies about my lack of skill?" Fili complained as he walked up, his brow dripping with sweat from his own work.

"They're only lies if they aren't true," Dwalin laughed.

"Exactly. I was a natural, you even told me so."

"One that still needed a good deal of training. At the rate he's going, your brother is likely to best you soon enough," Dwalin poked at the younger dwarf's pride.

"We'll see about that," Fili grinned as he picked up a weapon and met Kili in the field. "Good luck little brother."

"Save it," Kili countered with a challenging smile, "I have enough." With that the two of them threw themselves into their duel, lost to anything but each other.

"They make quite a pair you know," Dwalin told Thorin with a sideways glance, only taking his eyes off the two younger dwarves for a moment. "I think they will prove valuable indeed."

Thorin looked from his friend back to his nephews. "You speak as though we'll be marching to war on the morrow. They may be skilled but I don't think they're going to need it. Not like you and I needed it."

"Perhaps, but is a fight ever looked for?" Dwalin challenged. "I think they're fortunate to have each other if a battle does come their way."

Thorin was quiet for a moment. "And what if they fall, Dwalin?" he finally asked quietly, a deep terror rising from where it had hid for years.

"Then let us hope they fall together," his friend answered.

Thorin shook his head gently, the thought of losing the two young dwarves he loved so dearly unthinkable.

"And let us hope we're not here to see it," Dwalin added quietly.

Thorin flinched up from the slouched manner in which he occupied his chair. His eyes opened but the dream of a memory didn't vanish with the darkness. It lingered in his head even after the deep breaths he cleansed his lungs with, voices still rattling in his head. The conversations from a time in the past echoed remembrance and Thorin could scarcely breathe as distant whispers burned inside him.

He remembered that day, one of Kili's first days of weapons practice. It was not so very long ago, and now…it was too soon, much too soon. That day was not nearly distant enough. Kili had been given so little time. He'd only barely grown up. He'd hardly had a chance to live his life at all. Every opportunity and every future robbed from hands so young they'd never even learned they needed to hold on so tightly.

Thorin choked back his grief as he rose from his seat, opening his stiff limps in a stretch. He'd found his way to this old room in the night when he was unable to sleep. Blinking passed his blurry eyes, he neared the flames that were actively dying in the hearth. The small room he occupied was one of the few mostly untouched by the dragon. He'd been surprised to find everything as he remembered, everything unmoved. It had been a council room, a small one reserved for the meeting of kin. Unlike the grand hall where large councils were held that housed a long table and little else, this one had no table but a few seats and a fireplace. It was a comfortable and intimate place that curiously reminded Thorin of Bilbo's Bag End.

He remembered gathering there often with his father and the King and a few others, some that had long ago disappeared. A few of them had been killed, others chased away by fear and uncertainly. But before that, when Erebor still knew peace and housed dwarves, they all used to talk there for hours about many things, some foul but most more pleasant. And he used to come there alone on similar nights when sleep did a sound job of avoiding him. He remembered sitting before the hearth and watching the fire, letting the flames burn away his worries. It was one of the only places they would be forgotten, this place an old sanctuary for him.

There was a time Thorin had deemed gems that most valuable thing under the Mountain. Not even so very long ago. His eyes had seen only their enchanted glow. His heart had yearned desperately for them. His had been a jealous greed for their sole possessorship.

He'd been a fool. A blind one and he hadn't seen what he never should have missed.

Fili and Kili were the most prized gems he would ever have the chance to value. They were, the both of them, jewels meant to be kept safe. They were the treasure he should have risking life and future for. There was nothing more, nothing greater that should have stolen his attention. There was not a more important purpose to his life than to protect the few left that he loved.

And he had failed. But not because an enemy was more than he could face. Only because of his own selfishness.

There was nothing that could right that wrong. And Thorin knew he would never outlive his guilt. If not for his greed Kili would still be alive. He'd seen young die before. And he'd seen good murdered by cruel hands. But these were Kili's bright eyes shut forever. This was Kili's merry laugh silenced. And Thorin could not reconcile such a happy life with such a painful end. How could a light so bright be darkness so suddenly? It had never even flickered before.

And it was in that thought that lied Thorin's disbelief. There was always something so sure about Kili, something so sure about his joy, about his spirit, about his love of life that made his presence shout. It was always there, so much so, in ample supply. And it always had to be there.

Or Thorin had thought so.

He wondered now if he had ever really believed Kili could die. He had feared it, as much as he was sure any could fear for another. But had he ever actually thought it possible? Had he ever really feared a world without either of his nephews? He thought he did of course. But now he believed perhaps he never really had at all.

Because he wasn't supposed to be there. If that day ever did come when they fell, he wasn't supposed to see it. He wasn't supposed to live beyond his nephews.

"I won't be," he told Dwalin, his gaze still fixed on his dueling heirs.

"You're so certain?"

"I've watched too many fall. I won't…I can't see any more. If those two ever did…if either of them…well I would die first."

"I would die to protect them too, Thorin. You know that," Dwalin said.

Thorin nodded. "I've faced much my friend," he spoke with a deep breath. "But I can't bury them."

OOO

Erebor was very much like a maze to those that didn't know the web of corridors that tunneled through and under the Mountain. Bilbo still had not learned his way but for a few common places he frequented and the limited passages he had learned when last he was there. He had, for that reason, mostly stayed with another when going hither. He'd found it curious that even those that were as new to the Mountain as he still moved about as if they knew where they were going. They had far less trouble navigating the kingdom's halls than he did though he'd been trying his best to learn his way. It seemed that the dwarves sense of direction within the earth certainly exceeded theirs above it. And where they perhaps could rely on instinct to guide them below surface, hobbits were not so naturally inclined. They much preferred sunny hillsides and meadow paths and cozy burrows with plenty of windows.

But despite his unfamiliarity with Erebor, Bilbo did not find it whole unwelcoming as he wandered through its halls, alone this time. It was indeed scorched and damaged. There was much broken, cracked, and crumbled. And there was little of the luxuries or comforts Bilbo knew in his own home. Yet there was something timeless about this kingdom. It was not an old realm compared to its ancient neighbors. But if any kingdom was enduring, Erebor was certainly that. And while it did not necessarily feel peaceful, it no longer felt pledged by bewitchment like his last stay. Bilbo no longer fear that his companions were walking a line between sanity and madness, teetering towards madness. And he didn't fear that they would come to be. Dragon sickness was no longer a curse he believed any of the Company would fall to.

It was a painful misfortune that it was too late.

If not for sickness perhaps there would have be one more there to celebrate the kingdom they had fought to reclaim. Perhaps they could actually enjoy the object of all their efforts. But instead a different heaviness weighed upon all of their shoulders. Now something else had taken the place of madness. And while maybe more pure than a delirious love of riches, grief hardly felt less cursed. It was painful, and Bilbo hadn't realized he could miss one he's know for so short a time so much. He knew if Kili were there with them the halls would echo with the laughter they were now deprived. He knew if Kili were walking there with him even now it would not be sad quiet presiding over his stroll.

But instead of laughing, Bilbo only heard the mumble of voices as he wandered upon a doorway.

"You disappeared last night," Balin's voice came from the small room. " I nearly came to find you, but I thought perhaps you wished to be alone."

Bilbo was standing so that be could peak into the room but without being seen himself. He knew he should keep walking and let others' conversations stay theirs. And yet he did not keep walking. Instead he lingered where he could hear and not be seen.

"Do you really think you could find me in a realm so large?" Thorin asked, his mouth twitching.

"Aye," Balin nodded. "The old council room has long been a favorite of yours."

Thorin's raised brow told Balin that he'd guess correctly.

Bilbo could see Gloin sitting next to the white haired dwarf, and Dwalin standing near the back of the room. Bilbo had never been told in any great length the relationships and ties of the Company members, but he had gather enough during the journey to place a few of the dwarves in Thorin's past to a time even before he was driven from Erebor. All four of the present members and Gloin's absent brother had known each other when they still living within those very walls.

"Do you remember the last time we met there?" the dwarf king asked. "You were all there with me that night."

"Yes," Gloin answered, "seems so long ago now."

"We should have done something, like we spoke of that night," Dwalin said, his voice low.

"Nothing would have saved us from the dragon, cousin," Gloin answered. "We couldn't have known it would come just a few days later."

"No," Balin agreed, "but maybe what followed could have been different. If we had done something about the King, about the sickness, before Smaug came perhaps there would not have been so much death after.

"If we had thought of a solution that night we would have. We could all see the King changing, but what were we to do? Gloin reasoned.

Thorin nodded absently, he thoughts divided between the present and memories from that night so long ago before ruin fell upon them. He'd seen it coming. So he'd gather his closest confidants, his father and his friends, because he could see the wild flash in his grandfather's eyes when he looked at his treasure. He'd seen the madness growing and he'd wanted to do…something. To find a way to help, to stop it.

"You are right Gloin. But perhaps we should have tried harder. If we'd only known what was coming…"

"Looking back only makes the shadows seem darker," Balin spoke. "Let's not dwell on them now."

"And what of recent shadows? What about Lake Town? Do I pretend I never caused such pain?" Thorin asked heavily, his eyes sorrowful.

"You can not take responsibility for the acts of a dragon, Thorin." Balin told him firmly. "You did not burn the Town."

"I set a beast upon it."

"We all did," Dwalin moved closer to the rest of the group as he spoke. "And our Quest was not without support either. Even Gandalf encouraged us to retake this Mountain."

Thorin grunted "And where is he now that it is done?"

Gandalf had left Erebor, departing nearly as soon as they had arrived. His reasons were vague, as they always were, speaking of urgent efforts in need of his attention. He'd promised to return as soon as he was able. But that meant little to the Company who knew the Grey Wizard's wanderings took him far and kept him long. There was no particular reason that he should stay either, they knew. Their task was finish as completely as he could aid them. There was really nothing to keep Gandalf there. And yet, they had still wished for his presence, still hoped he would linger a while longer. But as was his habit, the wizard's coming and goings were not to be predicted.

"He likely wished to be gone by the time she arrives," Dwalin said with only a hint of humor. The joke was half hearted and died away into silence.

"She should be on her way by now," Gloin stated.

Who? Bilbo wondered as he still stood quietly outside the doorway listening to things he wasn't meant to.

"She'll be getting close if she's had any luck greater than ours. I sent the raven the eve before we departed for Gundabad," Thorin said.

There was a heavy pause, one which made Bilbo fidget with discomfort as he inched closer in anticipation.

"Does she know?" Dwalin finally asked quietly.

Oh, Bilbo thought sadly. Their mother.

Thorin drew a heavy breath before answering, "She knows he was taken, and she knows I swore to do all in my power to recover him. But my sister is no fool. She'll know there's a chance…"

"Perhaps that is best, for to travel all this way with belief in success only to find out otherwise would be unbearable," Balin reasoned gently.

"And yet to grieve alone cannot be better," Thorin said. "Perhaps it is best that she doesn't know either way for certain. Maybe it is good that neither her joy nor sorrow is complete now."

"She will find comfort in knowing he fought to protect others, including Fili. My brother said he was doing his part to defend them though he was still weak. A brave lab his mother can be proud of," Gloin said.

"Yes, Bard said Kili protected his children too," Balin added with a sad frown, the old dwarf struggling to keep his sorrow from overwhelming him.

Thorin only nodded, unable to disagree that Kili was indeed brave and worthy of more honor than he'd been shown, and yet still unable to agree that there was any peace in his nephew's death. What good was bravery when the heart that carried is was now stilled?

"When is the bargeman due to arrive?" Dwalin asked, diverting to a less tender topic.

"Any time," Thorin was able to answer around his grief. "He returned to Dale two days ago."

"Do you think you'll have any trouble? Do you think he'll reason fairly?" Gloin wondered.

"I think there's little he could ask for that would be too great. But I do not think he'll ask for more than is right. About payment," the dwarf king paused as he turned towards the doorway, "Bilbo, you have yet to claim yours."

The hobbit swallowed in surprise at being discovered, not having realized he'd inching his way into view of the room's occupants.

"I…" he stammered, "I wasn't trying to…what I meant is-"

"It is alright master hobbit," Thorin promised. "If we had wished for more privacy we could have easily gone where we would not be discovered. This realm is extensive."

Bilbo's lips twitched with a smile as he slowly entered the room, no longer seeing reason in lurking in the doorway.

"You know you have earned your share of the treasure many times over by now. It is yours to take when you wish. I am not in a hurry to see you gone, but I know we have no right to keep you from your armchairs for any longer," the Mountain King told him.

Bilbo nodded as he rocked back on his heels. "Yes, well," he answered, "I thought I would at least stay until after Kili's, uh…the burial." The word was only ceremonial of course. There was nothing to bury. "Besides, Gandalf promised to travel back with me, so I guess I'll wait until he returns."

Dwalin huffed. "The dependability of wizards," he shook his head.

"Thorin," a new voice, that of Bofur's as he poked his head in the doorway spoke, "he's here. Well they both are, actually."

"Both?" Bilbo wondered as he looked around the room with puzzlement.

"King Thranduil has come also to collect his due," Balin answered with a sigh of apprehension.

"Let us get this finished quickly," Thorin said as he led the way out of the chamber.

OOO

Bard decided he was glad he ruled a people rather than a kingdom. People had hearts and lives to deal with, but kingdoms had memories, shadows, and ghosts. Just standing within Erebor he could feel the weight of the past and the pressure of the future trapped by the stone walls. It was unsettling, and far more of a burden than he wished to carry, even if the rewards could be considered worth it by some.

By the time Thorin entered the hall to which the bargeman had been brought the man was already waiting patiently though not entirely comfortably. He had heard tales of this Mountain, stories of splendor and wealth, recounts of prosperity and plenty. He'd also heard whispering in the shadows about ancient curses and madness. And he'd heard warnings from old lips, cautions against even approaching Erebor for fear of evoking whatever form of evil dwelled within.

So it was with a degree of apprehension that Bard had made his way to the kingdom. It was with a little uncertainly that he allowed himself to be led by Oin to a large and fairly undamaged hall where he waited for the Dwarf King to join him. Thorin arrived with a few others of his Company shortly. He offered a nod of recognition as he approached, extending respect rather than the pride in which he had first addressed Bard some time ago. He saw immediately that Thranduil had not yet joined them, and was not entirely disappointed.

"We finally meet on less queer terms," Bard observed, noting not only their most resent encounter in the dark on the shore of Lake Town, but their first meeting also alongside the river near Mirkwood. "We neither have reason to distrust the other this time. I hope," He added.

"That remains to be seen," Dwalin interjected. "A fair agreement has not yet been reached."

"I only wish, as I'm sure you all do, for a just arrangement," Bard insisted.

Before Dwalin or any other could respond Thorin spoke, "Yes, we too desire an honest and quick accord.

"Good, then-"

"Thorin," Dori interrupted to gain the dwarf's attention as he approached, the Elvenking of Mirkwood following at his back.

Bard had come alone to secure his payment. Thranduil, on the other hand, had not.

Half a dozen elves came with him, all escorted by the remaining members of Thorin's Company including his absent looking nephew. Fili followed at a distance and then stood to the side, his mind not present and his emotions far from engaged.

"It has been many years since I've visited this realm," Thranduil said as he glanced about him, forgoing any greeting. "And longer still since I've come on good terms."

Thorin recognized the Elvenking's remark as a slight to his grandfather immediately, whether intended or not. Anger poked at the back of his gut, a rebuke at the back of his throat. But reason kept them from being called forth. The ill terms under which Erebor and Mirkwood had interacted had been created by his own grandfather, Thorin knew. He had seen the King's arrogance strain the already weak relations between the two kingdoms. Thranduil's words, while needless and provoking, were not untrue.

"I trust this time will prove different," the Elvenking added, making his intentions clear. He no more wished for conflict than Thorin, though his ability to avoid it was lacking.

"That depends on the present company," Thorin finally spoke.

"And those are the words of a friend?" Thranduil said with a smirk, remembering Thorin's parting words at their last encounter even when Thorin himself had nearly forgotten.

"A cautious one," the dwarf king stated.

Bilbo watched this exchange with little curiosity. The elves, he'd learned, or particularly Thranduil, lacked empathy and tolerance. Both of which Thorin lack in as well. It seemed their opinions of each other was faulted not because of their differences, but rather their similarities.

"Indeed," Thranduil conceded with a nod. "And with cause, it would seem. I have come to know of your loss. And were loss abides distrust tends to settle."

"If you let it," Bard interjected with a frown. "Loss does not have to make one's heart hard."

Thranduil stared at the man for a moment. "Master Bard, is it a knowing tongue you speak with, or just a wise one?"

"Perhaps both," Thorin spoke again. "I do not wish to conduct this exchange with mistrust. Or any future ones. It has not severed this kingdom well before."

"I too wish to put past affairs where they belong. I have no interest in maintaining ill terms with you as I did your grandfather. Proven you can deal fairly," Thranduil agreed. "And am I to understand that you have come to extract compensation as well?" he asked as he turned back to the bargemen. "Dare I hope we can all reach an arrangement that is without petty disputes this time?"

"I believe Thorin is right, that depends."

"On?" the Elvenking asked.

"How far we can all put our selfishness behind us. There is no reason we can not strengthen relations this day, not tear them further apart."

"As for my part," Thorin said, growing weary of maintaining his show of interest and strength when his heart felt as far away as Fili's appeared to be, "I have your gems, Thranduil. But what, exactly, do you ask for?" he addressed Bard as Balin retrieved the elf's white gems and presented them to him.

"Your promise was for compensation for our Town. I do not have to tell you of the destruction that was brought. You know of its extent. And yet you know better than I the value of your riches. So I ask what price you would offer?"

Thorin looked at the bargeman with no little surprise. "You would trust payment to be set by the same who was reluctant to first offer it?" he asked with on small amount of shame.

"I would like to believe I neighbor a just king. Give me no reason to doubt that and I will not," Bard answered, his voice dropping to a more sober one. "And as I told you, your nephew has already given me more than I can repay. I ask for more now only for my people."

"Losing Kili does not change what is rightfully yours-"

"Stop saying that," Fili suddenly spoke, looking up from his down cast gaze where he had been staring at the ground seemingly in deep thoughts of his own. He met all their faces with a wide eyed look of realization and anger, as if he had just discovered something painful.

"You all speak as though he were really only lost, as if he could be found. My brother is not lost. He was killed, murder," Fili cried in a voice shaking with grief. "He's dead," he added in a whisper that sounded much weaker and more broken than his precious roar. "Kili isn't coming back." The truth of what he had said fell on him as if pain itself had been released and allowed to descend upon him. And the words felt raw and painful in his mouth. Unrefined from lack of use. On unsteady feet Fili turned towards the door to flee this place were they spoke of his brother's death like it was an unfortunate thing rather than a life shattering one.

"Prince Fili wait," Bard stopped him. "I brought this," he said as he retrieved a bundle that had sat unnoticed nearby.

"Are those Kili's?" Fili asked suddenly, recognition dawning on him.

"Yes, I found them in what remains of my house."

They were Kili's clothes, his outer garments that had been rent from his feverish form as they were trying to cool his body. They'd been discarded on the floor of the bargeman's home, forgotten, until now.

"I thought you'd want them."

Fili only nodded in silence as he approached to accept the outstretched bundle, his finders trembling slightly as he did so. He knew immediately, as soon as he held them, that aside from being dirty Kili's clothes where undamaged, whole, so unlike their owner. They still smelled like Kili, like earth and wind and the cape jasmine that grew at the foot of the Blue Mountains. They were tainted by the scent of smoke too now. But his brother's remembrance still lingered in the fabric and Fili felt his heartbeat wane as a shaft of grief dove itself unto his soul.

"Thank you," he whispered without realizing it has he gripped his brother's clothes in his fingers and his eyes shined with tears.

For those of you who really enjoy dialogue, here you are! I hope you all liked this chapter, and I would really appreciate it if you let me know! As you should be starting to see, there are still many things in store for this story, and many unanswered questions (like Gandalf's whereabouts for example). So I hope you can all have patience and enjoy the story as it unfolds :) Thanks for reading and have a blessed day!