Broken

"You're my heir, Fíli. One day you will be the one to lead our people. I know you're young but you need to understand how important this is. It will seem unfair because no one else is going to understand, but you are the hope of our people. Until your mother had you and your brother, the Line of Durin was endangered. We cannot allow this, not with so many wrongs that need to be righted."

"Why don't you have babies, Uncle?"

There was a long pause as Uncle stared into the fire. "My time for that has passed," he said lowly. "I have you and Kíli now. You will be the continuation of my line and of our kingdom. One day, you will sit on the throne of Erebor. I promise you, nephew, you will see the glory of Erebor restored to our people. We will return to our ancient halls and reclaim what is ours."

Scooting forward, he put his hands on Uncle's leg and grinned at him. "Kíli can come too, right? He'll scream and cry if we leave him behind."

One of those rare smiles he treasured so much crossed Uncle's face. "Yes, if he's old enough when the mountain is ready to be ours again. But you must remember we live for our people and our kingdom. Everything we do is to ensure that they both continue."

Fíli stared at the flames of a different fire as his uncle's words rolled through his mind. Everything we do is to ensure that they both continue. A fractured laugh left him. What was he doing to ensure Erebor would survive when the Line of Durin was continued? Lately everything he had done was destroying her.

But it wasn't him. He was doing all that he could to find the ones who were scarring Erebor like this. Was it his fault that it wasn't enough? Should he be doing more? What more could he do?

His hands clenched around the arms of his chair, the sharp edges digging into his palms. He welcomed the pain but it wasn't enough to numb the mental anguish filling him. His mountain was falling apart. Had been falling for weeks and they had nothing to show for it. Or to stop it.

Leaping out of the chair, he started pacing. He needed to move, to do something. It was probably for the best that Kíli had removed his weapons before Fíli had locked himself in his room. Because if there was even one left, he would have gone hunting to find those responsible for what was happening. He would tear the mountain apart, piece by bloody piece until he found those trying to kill what they were slowly bringing back to life. Their blood would run like Erebor's was and he wouldn't spare their deaths a second thought. They were not of the mountain no matter what they claimed and he would not tolerate them within his kingdom.

A soft snarl left him and he shoved a hand through his hair. The braids had long since been removed from constantly raking his fingers through the mass, the beads and clasps tossed as he had gotten frustrated with them. Anger was pounding through him and it had no outlet. There was nothing in his room that would give him the satisfaction of the release he needed. Everything kept coming back to one fact and all it did was make his temper spark even more.

Seven days, seven gifts and seven accidents.

An explosion at his birthday celebration.

A fire that had destroyed one of the market floors.

A flood which had cut off the lower levels.

A limnic eruption that had contaminated several important mine shafts.

Molten metal exploding from the crucibles in the primary forges.

A riot on the market floors which had required all of the Guard to control.

The collapse of three tunnels running through the very heart of Erebor.

And Delrín claiming it had nothing to do with his Ironfists and their tainted gifts.

The other king had been full of insults and threats as the room had shaken and shuddered around them. Fíli had shouted at him to shut his mouth before he shut it for him. He would have actually done it if someone hadn't tackled him to the floor, using their body as a shield for him. He had thought it was his uncle once again risking his life, but it had only taken a second for him to realise that it was actually Dwalin.

He could smell the leather that Dwalin still insisted on wearing, the crisscross of his weapons harness biting into Fíli's back as he had pushed him into the stone floor. As angry as he'd been, the steady stream of profanities leaving the older dwarf had made his temper pale in comparison. He wasn't sure, but he might have asked the warmaster if it would be alright to kill the Ironfists now.

Dwalin hadn't answered, but Fíli knew what his answer would have been.

When the mountain had finally calmed, Delrín's temper seemed to have cooled as well but Fíli hadn't been in any mood to entertain him. He had left the room, guards and family hot on his heels. He had come to the royal apartments and been met by his mother with Rarí a step behind her. Once he had assured them that he was alright, he had gone into his study and sent guards out to figure out what had just happened.

It hadn't taken long for the reports to come back and he had locked himself in his room when they had. Someone had gotten their hands on more black powder and collapsed three tunnels. There was no solid count on the injured, but the list of those losing their lives had only steadily grown over the past seven days. His kingdom was being gutted from the inside and the people were looking to him for answers. But he had none to give. He could point his finger at the Ironfists and say it was them, but they had no proof other than the misuse of these gifts. What could he tell his people when no one was telling him what was going on?

Sinking onto the edge of his bed, he pressed his palms against his temples and pushed. He knew wishing all of this away was childish but it was the only thought dominating his mind. He didn't want to deal with any of it. He didn't want to be king. He was too young for this. Thorin was out of his mind if he honestly thought that Fíli was capable of running Erebor. He'd made mistakes and now the kingdom was going to collapse when they'd only just regained it. He was a fool for thinking that he could do any of this.

Stop, he thought firmly. He couldn't afford to think like that. He was Erebor's king and it was his responsibility to bear the weight of this tragedy. There wasn't some scapegoat he could shove it onto no matter how much he wished for it.

He tensed briefly when he heard his door open before relaxing. His mother was the only one who had keys to the doors on this floor and she would never give them away. Not only that, he was positive she slept with them under her pillow so if someone tried to steal them to make copies, she would know.

Listening as soft steps crossed the room, he closed his eyes as she came up to him. "I don't know what I'm doing," he said softly as her fingers gently pulled his hands away from his head and started stroking through his hair. "Everything is falling through my grasp. When I try to figure out what's going on, I wind up chasing my tail and getting laughed at."

She shifted and he knew she was kneeling at his feet, but her hands stayed in his hair.

"What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to stop something when I don't know what's going to happen next? How am I supposed to catch a traitor when it seems like the entire mountain is hiding them from me?"

A soft hum left her and he was grateful she hadn't said anything yet. He needed to get the words out, needed them out of his mind before they completely overran him.

"Maybe they're right," he whispered even though he'd told himself to stop thinking it. "Maybe I am too young to rule. I haven't had any experience with this. No matter what Thorin taught me growing up, we didn't have a throne for him to rule from for me to see. It was all words and memories on his part. There was nothing tangible there for me to learn. And I'm expected to know so much. I've never done this before and there's never been an incident of traitors revolting against a crown like this."

"You're wrong."

His eyes flew open and he stared at Rarí in shock. "You…."

"Hush. You've said your mind, now let me respond," she said, her fingers trailing down to rest on his chest.

Fíli nodded slowly, his gut tightening. Those were not things he'd wanted to say to her. His mother knew his insecurities, knew there were times when he wanted to throw the crown aside and run back to Ered Luin. No. Not Ered Luin because they'd expect him to go there. He'd go to Hobbiton and visit Bilbo for a while before going to ground somewhere they'd never look.

She tugged on the ends of his hair and made him growl softly. "Fíli, listen to me. I can't begin to understand how you feel or what you're thinking despite what you've just said, but I can tell you this has happened before."

"Never to a king of Durin."

Rarí pulled on his hair again, making him clench his teeth. "It has happened in the East," she said firmly. "I know what your people say of those who live in Orocarni and sometimes you're right and other times you're so very wrong. We too have our code of honour and sense of what is right and wrong. It might not match up with what you in the West have, but it isn't as depraved as you assume."

He wanted to comment on that, but he was sure that she was going to pull his hair again. So he remained silent, watching and waiting for her to continue.

"There have been times in our history when some of our kings are what you accuse us of, dark, greedy, lustful of that which we shouldn't be. Sometimes the people wait them out, wait for the king to pass and the next to come. But other times, they rise up and take matters into their own hands. They know what is best for their mountains and they do what they must to ensure those kingdoms don't fall."

"Are you saying that they're right?" he asked lowly.

"I'm saying that many of the dwarves that now live in Erebor were not originally from Erebor," she clarified. "How many come from the East where rebellion is a part of our history? How many came expecting to be able to continue what they had lived for decades only to find that Erebor is a kingdom of Durin and is very different from the East? How many couldn't accept those changes and are now falling back on what they know?"

Fíli stared at her, frowning. "You think that it's dwarves from the East causing this?"

"I would be surprised if they weren't involved somehow. They might not be the ones who started it, but they are certainly helping fan the flames."

His brows drew together as he thought about that. "If they were from the East, it would explain Delrín's presence," he said quietly. "His gifts gave them the perfect excuse to go through with their attacks."

"And would instill the belief that your rule is cursed because of it."

Cursed. He had seen a real curse when they had gotten to Erebor and the dragon sickness had gripped his uncle. This was nothing compared to that. He caught Rarí's hands and lifted them to kiss her palms. "Do you think we can get through this?"

"I know you can, Fíli," she said firmly. "Your people love you. You might think that they're turning against you, but I have never seen a kingdom more dedicated to their ruler. They are committed to returning Erebor to all of its glory. They aren't going to give up on you when it's obvious none of this is your fault. Our people aren't stupid; they will see that this is a ploy to sow distrust in them, to make them turn from you."

"Some already have."

"Then are they really people you want in your kingdom?" she asked simply.

"No," Fíli murmured. Anyone who wasn't there to better Erebor had no right to be there. Even if they had originally come from the mountain or were of Durin's Folk. The kingdom had seen too much to fall once again and not to petty dwarves that couldn't accept change.

She was quiet for a long moment, her hands holding onto his now while her eyes moved over his face. "It is terrible that dwarves have lost their lives because of what's happening," she said, "but you need to look at it differently."

He cocked a brow, wondering how he could look at all of this as anything but the disaster it was.

Taking a deep breath, Rarí continued, "It's an opportunity for you to clean the poison out of your mountain. Obviously something bad has been growing inside of Erebor and this will be your chance to remove it."

"And how many more will die while I'm trying to do it?"

"I don't know," she whispered, "but if you keep swimming in all of this anger and frustration you're going to start only reacting and that is exactly what they want. They want you to make mistakes and Erebor can't afford to have you do that right now. You have to stay strong and focused. Not only for yourself, for your people. They look to you for strength, Fíli. If they see you cracking, they will follow."

"I can't be strong all the time, Rarí," he said honestly. "I can't."

"You don't have to be. When doors are closed and you're surrounded by the people who love you, you can let your guard down. We're all here to support you, Fíli, and we'd never think less of you if you ask for our help."

Letting out a slow breath, he closed his eyes and let his forehead bump gently against hers. "If I had known that all of this was going to happen when Thorin told me to take the crown," he said softly, "I wouldn't have taken it."

"Yes, you would have, Fíli."

He met her gaze questioningly.

"Not only had you been raised for this, it isn't in you to back away from something. I keep hearing about how Kíli's the rash one, that he doesn't walk away from a challenge, but you're not better. You are an heir of Durin and you would do everything you could to make sure that what your ancestors made survived."

"Well," he muttered, "I would have done some things differently."

Her lips curled but she didn't say anything.

"Quiet," he growled.

Her smile only grew further and he could see her dark eyes dancing. She was laughing at him, it was all over her face.

Tipping her up, he gave her a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"You're more than welcome. What are you going to do now?"

He pulled back from her with a sigh. "I should speak with Dwalin and Kíli to find out what's actually happened. Which portions of the tunnels were collapsed, how many dwarves lost their lives."

She nodded, sitting back on her heels to watch him. "What else?"

"It's too late to do it today," he said lowly, "but I am getting rid of the Ironfists."

Thorin listened to what Fíli was saying, but didn't speak himself. The last time he had expressed his thoughts on this matter, it hadn't ended well between them. And Fíli was taking action now that he was able to without starting a war. He knew it was unfair to put all of this on his nephew when he was already struggling and he couldn't fault the show of temper that had left the king. But admitting it to himself and getting it into words were not the easiest thing to do.

Fíli had been right after all. If he'd been able to get rid of the Ironfists earlier, he would have. Telling him that he needed to do it wasn't helping matters.

"They aren't going to like it," Kíli said quietly, his fingers toying with his bowstring.

Thorin wasn't sure when the bow had found its way back into his hands, but he wasn't surprised. The weapon was a comfort to his younger nephew and he had no doubt that Kíli wanted to go hunting right now. If he'd had his way, Kíli would have painted the halls of Erebor red with the Ironfists' blood to keep his brother from going through all of this.

"They don't have to like it," Fíli said, his voice flat. "This is my mountain and they were uninvited guests. They've given their gifts and I want nothing more to do with them."

The dwarves in the room were nodding, but this was no surprise either. The Company had been gathered to discuss this matter. Or rather be told of it. Fíli had called to him the dwarves he knew he could trust with his life and they would be the ones that ensured this was done properly. Between the thirteen of them, they could cover the mountain, learn almost anything. The fact that they couldn't discover the identities of the traitors was as much of a sore spot with them as it was with the royals.

"Get it over with as early as possible," Dwalin said lowly. "Don't give them time to settle in and fight your decision."

"I've already sent word to Delrín to meet with me after breakfast."

More nods. "They've offered to stay and help," Nori said, tossing a knife lazily into the air. "They are, at least on the surface, helping those that were directly affected by the collapses but all it feels like to me is a grab for support from the mountain. They're looking in places they shouldn't be, showing up where they have no reason to be."

"All the more reason to get them out," Fíli agreed. "They will be gone before sundown or their presence here will be seen as an act of war which Erebor will meet."

Silence at those words because all of them remembered all too clearly the last war that had raged around the mountain. But if that was what they needed to do to keep Erebor safe, they would rise to meet this enemy just as they had the last.

"You've contacted Bard?" Thorin asked quietly.

"Aye and sent ravens to Dain." Fíli's face tightened slightly before he shook his head. "If I thought it would do us any good, I would have sent them to Ered Luin as well, but our cousins are too far away to be of any aid to us."

Nodding slowly, he didn't say anything else about the matter.

"I've tolerated Delrín's disrespect for the last time," the king of Erebor said firmly. "By this time tomorrow, my mountain will be rid of them and we will focus on ridding it of the last of the vermin scurrying through her depths."

Shouted agreements rang through the room as the Company showed their support of this decision.

Fíli closed his eyes for a moment before he pushed away from the table, gave his friends a nod and left with his brother close behind him.

Thorin stayed seated and watched them go. He couldn't regret all that he had put on Fíli's shoulders, but he had never thought that his nephew would have been tested so early in his reign. He had foolishly hoped that Fíli would be allowed to live his life in peace after the horror and pain his uncle had subjected him to in his quest to reclaim Erebor. But there was still something dark lurking in the shadows that was not done with the Line of Durin quite yet.

"Thorin."

Rising as Dwalin's voice registered, he locked gazes with his old friend and told him the same words he had said before they had left Ered Luin. "Keep them safe, Dwalin," he said lowly. "If I can't, guard them with your life."

Dwalin wasn't the only one left in the room and he felt the weight of all of their gazes on him. "You know I will as I always have," Dwalin rumbled.

"We'll keep your lads safe, Thorin," Bofur assured him. "They're our family almost as much as they are yours."

But they weren't the ones that had set them on this path as soon as they had gotten their feet under him.

"Where are you going?" Balin asked quietly when he started to walk away.

"I need to speak with someone." He didn't give them anything more than that and his tone said that he would do it alone.

Walking out of the room, Thorin didn't take the twists and turns to return to his room. Instead he went one level lower, the King's Guard's floor, and he bypassed all of the doors until he reached one that was tucked into the very end of the hall. There was only one way to approach this room and there was no other way in or out of it except for the single door.

Pulling a heavy key from his pocket, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The two dwarves sitting at the table with a game board between them looked up at his entrance, one face showing surprise and the other nothing at all. "Ralak," he said quietly, addressing the guard. "Leave us."

The King's Guard didn't hesitate, rising from his chair. "I'll win next time," he said as he started to walk away.

A low chuckle left Nidin. "We'll see."

Nodding at Thorin as he passed him, Ralak closed the door behind him and Thorin knew that he would be standing guard outside of it.

Nidin picked up one of the pieces, the king, and rolled it between his hands. "I warned you," he said quietly.

"And gave me no way to do it which resulted in my nephew refusing to speak to me," he growled. "We knew we had to get rid of them but we didn't know how."

Rolling the carved piece a little more, Nidin's gaze moved away from Thorin. "True and I am sorry for that."

"Do you know how we could have gotten rid of them?"

"Short of killing the lot of them?" Nidin shrugged. "Some say the only good Ironfist is a dead one."

"Who are you?" Thorin demanded, drawing Nidin's gaze back to him. "You, for all that you claim, are no blacksmith. Or you didn't start your life that way."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because when I lost my throne, I became a blacksmith."

Silence fell as a question hung unasked in the air. "I didn't lose anything," Nidin said quietly. "What I was before I became a blacksmith is not what is causing this."

"You twist words like an elf," Thorin spat. "You've lost your son to those that are trying to rip apart this mountain. Why will you not speak the truth?"

The other dwarf was staring hard at Thorin now and he could see the fury building in his dark eyes. All of the King's Guard that kept watch on Nidin had said nothing of a temper, that he was complacent and gave them no problems. But the emotions seething there now spoke clearly of a dwarf who would solve matters with his own hands and he wouldn't care how bloody they got. "The truth is I've lost more than you can understand and all I've got left is my daughter. I will do everything to protect her and the truth will hurt her more than I am willing to."

"And lying to her isn't hurting her?"

Nidin smacked the piece down onto the table and a hissing breath left him. "It's protecting her," he repeated, his voice hoarse.

"From what?"

Dark eyes closed for a moment and when they opened again, Thorin saw raw agony in them. "My son found out and he died," Nidin said shortly. "I will not see my daughter suffer the same fate."

Thorin stared at him. This was a dwarf whose family had been shattered before he had even come to Erebor. He had lost his One and it had driven them from Orocarni. "Did the truth kill your wife?" he asked quietly.

"Runsa always knew the truth, but she paid for it with her life as well. It is a secret I would take to the grave if it would spare my daughter that."

"I swear on Durin's name and everything I value in my life, I will not tell her," Thorin said, holding his gaze, "but I need to know the truth. For the safety of my family, I must know."

Nidin stared at him, his expression giving Thorin nothing. There was no reason for Nidin to trust him, to give this secret when he wouldn't even tell his own kin. But Thorin would not see his family suffer or fall if he could prevent it in some way and he knew that whatever secret Nidin was keeping would help him stop it.

Note: A limnic eruption, also referred to as a lake overturn, is a rare type of natural disaster in which dissolved carbon dioxide (CO2) suddenly erupts from deep lake water, suffocating wildlife, livestock and humans. Scientists believe landslides, volcanic activity, or explosions can trigger such an eruption. (Taken from Wikipedia)