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.
29. Princes of Erebor
Thorin could only stare with utter dismay at the sight before him- twisted branches and roots erupting from the ground, rocks piled atop one another and intertwined with the trees, and the path that they followed, heading right into the middle of it. There was simply no way that the pony would be able to walk that with a rider, and yet, the dwarven king despaired of asking his younger nephew to attempt it on his own. A glance back to where Fili and Kili stood showed the dismay on the face of the elder and the sheer terror shining in the dark eyes of the younger, but Thorin knew that there was no other choice.
This was the one safe path that currently led through the northern edge of the area previously controlled by Dol Guldur and to the pass through the mountains of Mirkwood. Any other way, of which there were several, would necessarily involve leaving the dubious shelter of the forest for several days' travel, a risk that they dared not take with the lives of the princes.
Both younger dwarves had gratefully stripped off layers of leather and metal this morning, leaving them in simple tunics with light mithril chain hidden underneath, a fragile layer upon which to bet their lives if the company should be attacked once more. Kili met his blue gaze resolutely as he slipped from Mithril's back, his older brother's hand under his elbow to steady him, and gave a nod. If sheer determination were the only factor here, there would not be an obstacle able to stop that one. Unfortunately, even the bodies of dwarves were not made of such steel.
"Fili!" The blonde's head shot up at his uncle's call. "Stay with your brother and keep an eye upon him!"
The return glare that the uncle received needed no interpretation, a muffled laugh at his elbow making the king turn to his little sister with a roll of the eyes for her sons' behavior. Reaching out, he gently tugged upon one of the once dark braids now a silvery grey.
"Quiet, you. Let's go."
Throughout the day, Thorin resolutely kept to the front of the group, refusing to look back even when he heard the distinctive sound of a falling body, the soft encouragement of Bofur, and the fierce swearing of his elder nephew. He could not bear to see the struggle his younger sister-son was undoubtedly finding the trail or he knew in his heart that he would put a stop to the journey in that instant. Instead, his head replayed over and over the images of the two, blonde and brunette, falling to their foes, laid to rest in cold stone beneath an unforgiving mountain, and continued on.
By evening, they had come perhaps five miles, a fraction of the distance that they had been covering daily, even in the forest, but half the distance to the end of this almost impassable tangle. All were exhausted, stumbling about camp as they began routine chores that could now be done almost asleep on their feet. It was only when he had seen this that the king had the courage to turn and seek out his nephews.
As expected, the two stood together, Kili supported upon his crutches as he gasped and panted, sweat pouring down an alarmingly pale face. Even as their uncle approached, he saw the supports wobble and Kili would have met the ground with bruising force had Fili not been prepared for just such an eventuality, catching and easing the other down.
Two fast steps had Thorin by their sides, making quick work of laying out the bedroll attached to the younger prince's pack, Dis joining the three only moments later. There was a glazed daze in Kili's brown eyes that was alarming, breaths still coming in shallow pants, telltale signs of heat exhaustion. Before the king could say a word, his sister was snapping orders with all the authority of her bloodline.
"Fili, help me get this tunic and his mail shirt off. Thorin, see if there is any fresh water nearby. I know he can't drink it, but it might be cooler than what we're carrying. We have to cool him down, now!"
Dwarves scattered in every direction, even those whom she had not addressed tripping over one another in their haste to aid in any way they could. It was with relief that Thorin was then able to settle back beside his nephews as someone shouted that they would retrieve the water, helping to support the limp body of the youngest as they once again stripped clothes from him. Kili's eyelids were barely open as the older dwarf took a clean cloth and soaked it in some of their drinking water, holding it to dry lips. He could see the mortification the younger dwarf was suffering, being manhandled as a child would be yet another time, but it could not be helped.
"Suck on the cloth, Kili. That's it."
As much as Thorin longed to give his sister-son all the water that he could drink, he knew that to reintroduce liquid that quickly would only make the other ill. The thudding of dwarven boots on the hard ground alerted him to Kifir and Gimli returning with water at a run, the cold a distinct shock against Thorin's skin as he soaked several clothes and placed them along the overheated body. On the other side, Fili was carefully working powerful fingers into muscles visibly cramping in his brother's arms and legs, his own jaw bunching tighter at each knot worked loose.
Finally, after perhaps half an hour of such treatment, Kili was lying on his brother's bedroll, his own having been soaked, watching those around him. As Fili aided him to sip yet more water, the brunette at last gave a small smile, hand pressing something into his brother's free hand, and allowed himself to slip into sleep. Not surprisingly, that was when the long awaited eruption spewed forth from the blonde who'd been so anxiously attentive only moments before. With a low growl of frustration, the older prince surged to his feet, blue eyes blazing at his uncle, one hand clutching the Arkenstone so tightly Thorin almost thought he meant to pitch the thing at him.
"You cannot ask Kili to continue like this tomorrow! He will push himself to collapse again or worse to keep from letting you down and not once did you even turn to check on him!"
Thorin allowed no hint of how deeply those words wounded to show upon his face, meeting his nephew's fury with ice calm sternness.
"It is for him that I do this, and for you! It is not I who will sit upon the throne of Erebor!"
Muffled gasps from around them told him that the others yet listened, but the dwarf king no longer cared. The time for such secrecy was past, the forest holding no unfriendly ears to take advantage of the information. Indeed, if some had not yet guessed the true situation, they deserved such a rude awakening for not using their heads! The blonde, however, was not about to back down this time.
"We know that, but I would rather have my brother at my side in exile than to sit beside an empty seat! Twice now we have almost lost him, thrice if you count the flood, and now you risk his life for the sake of speed?"
"For the sake of our people! Have you given thought as to what may happen should we not reach the mountain by Durin's Day? And the Death Warriors succeed in whatever they plan?"
"Of course we have, you taught us our responsibility to our people, uncle, but killing him through exhaustion will not aid anyone but our enemies! We would do better to take time now, and make it up when he can ride Mithril!"
"He speaks truly, Thorin."
The four quiet words in the familiar deep rumble at his elbow brought him up short, knowing what it took Dwalin to speak out against his oldest friend and liege. The king turned toward the old warrior, the slightest nod acknowledging the advice as he forced his temper down, recognizing what had truly been spurring him this day. Fear. They were in a narrow path, with few places to turn aside or hide from their enemies, and the princes walked with little protection, making this an ideal spot for an ambush. Legolas, however, seemed to be reading the king's thoughts, for he shook his head.
"Lord Celeborn tasked his scouts to keep watch upon the forest's borders south of the mountains. Your enemies will not easily slip past such sentinels."
Thorin bit back a sarcastic retort, having known about but dismissed the elven scouts. He was not about to rely upon others to ensure the safety of his nephews! Turning back, he was slightly amused to note that Gloin now glowered at the older prince.
"I assumed that Thorin would be taking the throne in Erebor!"
Dis rolled her eyes at their merchant cousin, though it was Bofur who snorted derisively before answering the other, the common miner's son having a better grasp of the politics at work than one of the bloodline of Durin, albeit not of the ruling house. The slight glint in his eye reminded Thorin that his blood, too, traced to the halls of their ancient realm deep under the Misty Mountains.
"Thorin will be busy takin' back his own throne in Moria, of course! 'Tis where Durin has always ruled."
"After I have dealt with our current enemies, yes."
There was an ominous promise to that dark statement, rage burning deep within the king for any who would dare raise their hands against Durin's Folk. The Death Warriors had hidden themselves successfully once; they would not be given the opportunity to do so again. Gloin crossed his arms, eyes narrowing as he regarded first his king and then the older prince before relaxing slightly with a satisfied huff.
"Then Fili will take the throne?"
"Yes."
"No."
Thorin was immediately and firmly contradicted by his older sister-son, leading him to raise an eyebrow at the other in a silent demand for an explanation. Fili had always been raised with the knowledge that his duty and path would be to follow his uncle, now even more so; to have that suddenly rejected was not in the plan.
"I will not be king."
The blonde stated his position firmly, meeting the gazes of shock with a calm determination, turning to his gaping mother last.
"Fili! You cannot mean-"
"It is not what you assume, Mother. Kili and I have talked this through. We have seen the divisions within Durin's Folk caused by having more than one king, and it almost led to disaster for our people. How many would be alive today had the Iron Hills offered sanctuary to our people after Smaug, and not spurned us? Thror would not bow to another, and so led our people to slaughter outside our ancestral gates! And do you truly think that I, the one who has not been chosen by the Arkenstone, could claim to rule when my younger brother bears the Heart of the Mountain?"
Thorin bit back harsh words of frustration, recognizing the truth in his older heir's speech. The sign of the mountain's favor was not only very visible upon his skin, all knew that the younger prince had been shot with a fatal arrow; it wouldn't take a scholar to reason out why the dwarf was still alive- the Arkenstone wanted him that way. There was no hint of anger or jealousy to Fili's face, however, just a calm, proud tilt to the chin so very familiar to his uncle. Not even the anger that had been there to start with remained. At this moment, the young golden haired dwarf looked every inch the prince and leader of his people that he had always been meant to be, voice holding the others spellbound with the utter surety of one born to rule.
"You mean to join Thorin in Moria, then?"
Dwalin's question was hushed, respectful in a way he'd never before accorded his best friend's heirs, clearly recognizing something within the other as well. Was this, then, what Balin had seen that long ago day of such sorrow outside the gates of Moria? If so, it was clear now why he had put his faith in a prince who had not yet reached adulthood, for Thorin would be hard pressed to argue any decision that Fili made right now, his aura of authority was that strong! His sister-son's bearing reminded the king so strongly of his grandfather before the madness took him that it was almost a physical blow, though the other's coloring and gentle spirit were the rich gold of his grandmother.
"I did not say that, either, Dwalin."
That was as well; a voice whispered within Thorin that allowing Fili or Kili to be at his side permanently in Moria was to invite disaster down upon their people. Though he addressed the old warrior, the prince kept his eyes locked with those of his merchant cousin.
"As I said, my brother and I have discussed this and come to a decision that we believe is in the best interests of our people. There will no longer be a King in Erebor. We will rule, jointly, as Princes of the Blood of Durin, sworn to King Durin VII Returned of Khazad-dûm, even as the Princes of Ithilien and Arnor rule for King Elessar of Gondor."
As the last syllable was uttered, the prince gave a gasp, handing jerking open to drop the Heart of the Mountain as he stared at his palm in shock. Once again, the stone cast its own light about the clearing, bouncing once to roll until it stopped against the hand of the other prince, who gathered it to himself, brown eyes open a narrow slit to watch his sibling with a small smile. As Fili swallowed hard, Dis shot to his side in one long stride, taking the palm in her own and giving a low snort of satisfaction. Her son allowed the princess to hold it up for all to see; upon Fili's palm was the brand of a prince's circlet, the outline of the mountain behind it. The Arkenstone had once more made its will plain, Thorin pressing lips firmly over the concerns swirling in his mind. A low chuckle broke the stunned stillness after several minutes, a grin splitting Gimli's red beard as his eyes sparkled.
"Very good, cousin. An elegant solution, though I have one question. Was it the two of you who put the notion to Aragorn or are you borrowing from him?"
Fili allowed a small smirk to play at the corners of his lips, though his stance did not relax, gaze once more holding Gloin's, the older dwarf's reaction being the key as to whether the solution would be workable. As a lord of Durin's line, Gloin would hold sway over many of the nobles within the realm, a reality Dain had recognized clearly when he placed the fiery dwarf on the King's Council. Now, Fili sought that influence in favor of himself and his brother.
"It was a mutual invention, cousin, though we'd not thought to apply it to Erebor until it became clear to Kili and me that Thorin would never rule there. Aragorn started the notion with his worry that the people of Gondor would not respect a Steward now that the King had returned, especially as he plans to spend half his year in each kingdom. Kili pointed out that there can only be one king, but there are no such restrictions upon princes."
Now Fili's eyes swept all of them, settling at last upon his uncle, Thorin's own visage still showing his misgivings.
"We both know our weaknesses, uncle, know that should one or the other be forced to the throne alone, it would be a disaster, but that together, we can be the leaders our people need. It is akin to how we fight- I provide the solid defense and the control, the planning, while Kili is flexible, adapting tactics and weaponry as needed around me, finding the opening to attack and having the daring to push us into it." Fili paused, staring with bemusement at the mark upon his palm before holding it out toward the party once more. "I am the head, the brains and the caution, steady as the mountain itself, while Kili is the heart, the fiery core and passion. We need one another to balance ourselves and lead well."
That insightful analogy delivered in a cool, steady tone reassured Thorin in a way nothing else his heirs could have said would, showing a maturity and awareness of self indispensible in a true leader. Their natural interactions would dictate that Fili take the lead in this, as well, until Kili had learned what was needed for the role thrust upon him. In most cases, such a divided rule would be inherently unstable, causing Thorin to reject the notion out of hand, but Fili's reasoning was sound. Besides, it felt… true, as if this path was the one that had been marked for the two since the younger's birth, the intent behind the unusual closeness, the unity they shared. Glancing around, the king could tell that he was not the only one sharing that insight.
Dwalin had his arms crossed, a smug pride upon his face at the words of his former pupil, while Bofur grinned outright, and Dis was hastily wiping at tears only a mother could put true meaning to. Nast, interestingly enough, just grunted and nodded, as if expecting such a thing to occur, an interesting notion when he'd only known the princes through stories and the length of this journey. All eyes sought out Gloin, tense, and then the air seemed to sweep back into the clearing as the white-bearded dwarf lord and king's councilor finally nodded.
"Aye, I think the two of you are showing your wisdom and maturity in that, my prince. You will have trouble with some of the more conservative lords, however, especially those who've now been driven from the Iron Hills."
"I'd not worry about that, Father," Gimli's grin turned positively nasty, "Any opposition won't last long once Dwalin and I have a chance to explain the whole thing to them- slowly and sharply."
The way the young dwarf patted his ax left little doubt as to his meaning. Next to him, Dwalin's eyes gleamed in eager anticipation of repaying some of the old blocks of stone for past snubs and insults to the exiled ruling house. It was as well that Gimli would be leaving to return to Minas Tirith once winter was past or Thorin might have to rein the two in, they looked so pleased at the opportunity to bend a few dwarves' noses. No real blood would be shed unless they uncovered a true traitor, but fists and threats didn't bleed, and Thorin knew all too well that some of those they were concerned with had very thick skulls!
Facing his nephews, one laying down, the other standing proudly in front of his brother, Thorin inclined his head respectfully in the greeting of equals for the first time, eyes shining with the pride, honor, and astonishment that he did not have the words to convey.
