This one's for you, uno mega! Fili and Kili have only had a brief mention in my stories so far. I have avoided their tragedy, just as Tolkien did himself. But, by special request, I have written a story about their relationship with their uncle – and it's not all sad, LOL!
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All About Thorin…And Everyone Else
Thorin and his Nephews
Pt I
Thorin missed people. He usually thought about them at the moment of waking, when Tauriel was still asleep and all was quiet in the world. Sometimes, thinking about them caused an extreme feeling of loss and then the tears would trickle down his cheeks; at other times, he remembered the laughter they had shared and he would find himself smiling. He listed them one by one: his sister, Dis, and her sons, Fili and Kili, together with Balin and all the other members of his dwarven company, plus Rose and her husband, Telbarad. And he had never even got to see Rose's children. Some of these friends and relatives had died before his departure from Middle-earth, whilst he had only heard about the fate of the rest once the last ship from the Grey Havens had reached the Undying Lands. It wasn't that he was ungrateful that he had been given this gift of more life with Tauriel, but he wished, he really wished, that he could have had it all. And, by "all", he meant he wished that all those he had loved could still be with him.
Tauriel woke up and felt the stillness and the tension of his body as it lay next to her own. She knew what he was thinking and slipped her arm about him. "It's alright," she whispered. "I'm here." And she drew him into her arms and kissed him.
An hour or so after they had got up, Rosie came visiting, almost as though her thoughts and her grandfather's had coincided. She sat next to him on the sofa and linked her arm in his, placing her chin on his shoulder. "I've been thinking about Aunt Rose," she said.
"Oh, yes," answered Thorin quietly. Rose may only have been an adopted daughter, but she was also the daughter of his heart.
"She was wonderful," said Rosie.
"I know," said Thorin.
"Beren and I were always getting into trouble," she continued, "and she was always there to get us out." And then she wept. Tauriel went silently from the room and drank her tea outside in the sun.
"Yes, we both miss her," said Thorin, "just as we miss all the others."
"I wish she hadn't died."
"I know," said Thorin.
"The deaths of Fili and Kili must have been the hardest for you," Rosie pushed on, ignoring the bitter tightening of his lips, "because you were there to see it and because you must have felt responsible for them."
"Yes," said Thorin tersely.
"You never talk about them," she pursued, "and I would love to hear about them. When I think of those two, I think of me and Beren – always up to some mischief or other."
Thorin's face softened a little: "Yes: me and Frerin and Dis, Fili and Kili and, from what I've heard, you and Beren – all of us extremely naughty in our time."
Rosie stroked his arm. "I find it impossible to believe that you were ever naughty, grandfather," she said.
"Oh," he smiled, "there was plenty of time to be naughty when we were young and carefree before the dragon came. We used to run rings around our father, just as Fili and Kili and, later, your Aunt Rose ran rings around me."
She lay her head on his shoulder again and gently squeezed his hand. "Smaug destroyed more than the kingdom of Erebor the day he came to the Lonely Mountain, didn't he?"
"Yes," he replied quietly. "He took away my youth and my untroubled days and set a great burden on my shoulders."
"But," she said, looking up and smiling at him. "You got there in the end. You reclaimed your kingdom. And, look at things this way: if Smaug hadn't turfed you out, you would never have met Tauriel, and neither Arion nor Poppy nor me would exist and you would never have met Rose."
He gave her a hug and grunted.
She hugged him back. "And now, tell me a story about Fili and Kili – about some trouble they got into and how you came to the rescue."
"I'd rather write about it than talk about it," he said. "It's easier. Pass me the laptop." And so, she passed him the laptop and he began:
Thorin and his Nephews
I never really liked babies. Not that I knew much about them anyway: with dwarf women so thin on the ground, there were only a few marriages and even fewer children, either in Erebor or in Ered Luin, which latter became my home after our retreat from the Lonely Mountain. But, when Fili then Kili were born to my sister, Dis, and then her husband died and she was left to struggle on alone, I felt it was my duty to visit her and the children regularly.
Not that she lacked for suitors, mind you, who would willingly have become her new husband and a new father to the boys. She was a fine-looking woman and had rarity value; and, on top of that, of course, Fili and Kili were the heirs of Durin, in line to the throne should I die without issue. Heirs to the throne of Erebor, I would think sourly. Heirs to nothing, more like. But, at that time, I had no wife, no sweetheart and thus no children, which made the boys important and Dis an important match. But, she had loved her husband - no other dwarf could hold a candle to him as far as she was concerned - and she preferred to remain single.
So….. my nephews. As babies, I found them a bit repulsive – wriggling, smelly, noisy little things. But, I forced myself to ride every few days from my forge at the crossroads to the dwarven settlement in the foothills of the Blue Mountains so that I could help Dis and get to know my kin. It was a journey of two hours and I would be tired after a day of hammering at my anvil but I would do my best to nurse them and to play with them as they grew older, so that she could get on with her household chores.
I would sit on the floor with baby Kili in my lap whilst the older boy, Fili, climbed all over me. They treated me like a giant toy, grabbing at my plaits, exploring the rings in my ears, pushing up my sleeves to examine my tattoos. In the end, when they got too tiresome, I would growl at them and Fili would let out a half-frightened giggle and run away to hide behind a chair, whilst Kili would bury his face in my furs and thus make me disappear. Then, "Do it again, Unca Thorin," Fili would say from behind his chair. "Be a monster again." And I would put Kili down carefully and go crawling on my hands and knees after Fili, growling and roaring, until he ran shrieking to his mother and hid in her skirts.
"Thorin!" she would shout. "Don't overexcite them! I'll never get them to sleep tonight!"
But, in the end, it was me who took them to their room and rocked Kili in my arms until he nodded off and told the toddler, Fili, stories about Erebor and the goblin wars and Smaug the dragon. And, of course, if he woke up having nightmares in the night, his cries rousing Kili too, that was all my fault as well, and it was me who went and soothed them.
It was a duty at first but, the older they got, the more I became attached to them and the more they seemed to become attached to me.
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Pt II
When they were old enough, grown into little lads, Dis would bring them to the forge and all three would stay with me for a week at a time. Dis would tut at the untidiness of my home and would set about making all straight once more, giving me lessons in housewifery, whilst the boys treated the forge and the surrounding area as a giant playground in which they ran riot. I would give up part of my day to them, teaching them to fish and swim, and, once they were strong enough to wield the tiny swords and axes I had forged for them, I showed then how to use them. Kili was interested in my short dwarven bow and arrows and so I made him a set. Such a weapon was not my preference – too elven, I often used to think – but, it had its uses when hunting and I was pleased when he showed an exceptional skill.
When they came to stay, I slept on the mattress in the corner of the forge, whilst they took over the one room of the hall house. Dis used to complain: "This place could do with an extension. Surely you've made enough money over the years to build one?" And, yes, I had, but I was saving that money for my Quest, for my return to Erebor when I would reclaim my kingdom from the dragon.
No-one, except me, believed this possible. We had all been so long in Ered Luin and I had worked so hard to make a comfortable life there for my people that the memory of Erebor, its beauty and greatness, was slowly slipping away from their minds. Going home seemed an impossible dream. "Ered Luin is our home now, laddie," Balin would say. He was an old and wise counsellor and I usually listened to him but not in this. And I made sure that Fili and Kili knew all the old stories, all our dwarven history, and I painted such a powerful picture of Erebor in their mind's eye that a fierce yearning to see that great dwarven kingdom burned almost as brightly within them as it did within me.
But, whilst they waited for that day, completely convinced that their Unca Thorin would somehow make it happen, they passed their time by getting into mischief.
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I don't know how they did it but they somehow made me one of their co-conspirators. "Don't tell mother," they would plead after I had pulled them out of yet another scrape. And, if possible, I didn't.
An instance would be the time when Fili sidled into the forge during one of their stays to tell me urgently but quietly that Kili was stuck in a tree. I hurried off with him to find the situation a lot worse than he had made out. Not only was his brother up a tree but he was dangling from a branch and that branch was stretched out over the river. It was in flood at the time and the water was raging.
"Tell him to drop when I signal," I said to Fili grimly. And I ran downstream to where some fallen tree trunks were partly blocking its flow; then I edged into the water, wedged myself into position and signalled. "With a whoop, Kili dropped into the fast-flowing stream and, as he was swept past, I managed to grab him by his dark hair and yank him out.
And was he frightened by this experience? Did he learn from it? Of course not. He lay upon the bank, coughing up water and laughing his head off. Fili was just as bad. "That looked like fun!" he yelled as he came running up.
"What a ride!" Kili gasped, rolling onto his back, his face breaking into that devilish grin I got to know so well.
I felt like throwing him back in the water.
Then, "Don't tell mother," they said as one. And I found myself smuggling them back to the forge where I dried their clothes and kept my mouth shut.
They never thanked me but I knew they were grateful. And the biggest problem was that they became even more reckless the older they got because they had complete faith in their uncle's ability to save them from any eventuality.
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Pt III
I couldn't always keep things from my sister, of course. I remember one day, when she had ridden off into the Grey Havens to buy them all some new clothes. I had been left in charge and I took my eyes off them for five minutes. They were young men now, handsome and cheeky, and I assumed, wrongly, that they had developed at least a modicum of common sense; and I needed to finish a farm implement that was already late for delivery.
Mistake. They had only been left to their own devices for a short time when Kili came dashing into the forge, yelling for my help. I knew things were serious this time because his face was white and drawn. "I've shot him," he shouted, grabbing me by the arm.
"You've what!" I exclaimed, not quite understanding.
"I accidentally shot him with my bow," he said. And fear was in his voice.
I grabbed a sheet off the mattress in the corner and ran with him to a spot a short distance away where Kili had been practising on a makeshift target. "He got in the way – I don't know how it happened," he gasped as we ran.
Fili was lying in a semi-conscious state on the ground with an arrow through his shoulder. There was a lot of blood but I knew there would be more after I had got the arrow out. I ripped up the sheet into strips and also made a pad. Setting this to one side, I tore open Fili's shirt, broke off part of the shaft and pushed the head all the way through. Fili groaned in pain and Kili turned whiter, if possible, biting his fist. Then I roughly bound the wound and carried him back to the forge. There I ordered Kili to sweep the table clear and I placed Fili upon it and hurried over to the furnace.
"What are you doing, Uncle?" Kili asked fearfully as I stuck an implement into the red-hot coals. But, he already knew.
"Well," I replied curtly, "if you don't want your brother to bleed to death, I need to seal the wound." And he shut up, looking on wide-eyed.
"Hold him down," I said quietly. "Firmly, now. He mustn't move." And then I spoke to the still-conscious Fili and explained what I was about to do. He nodded his understanding and I shoved a leather strap between his teeth for him to bite on. The pad at his shoulder was totally blood-soaked by now and, when I removed it, the blood was still flowing from the wound. I brought my iron from the fire and applied it. He fainted, of course, and I got Kili to help me turn him over so that I could also seal the wound in his back.
"I feel sick," Kili said suddenly, his hand going to his mouth, as the smell of burned flesh permeated the forge.
"Run your head under the pump, lad," I retorted. "You did well."
Between us, we got him to his truckle bed in the main room and, by the time his mother returned, he was awake and most of the colour had returned to his cheeks.
And was it Kili who got the telling off? Of course not. It was all my fault for leaving them on their own, playing with a lethal weapon, and for being more concerned about my work than the welfare of my nephews. She raged on all evening but I took it on the chin because I knew this was a response to her fear – and I felt it was all my fault anyway. But, just before we retired to our beds, she suddenly gave me a great hug and burst into tears upon my chest. "Thank you," she whispered. And I just hugged her back.
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They got older and their behaviour became wilder. It was very difficult to get angry with them because they had such infectious grins. "You speak to them, brother," Dis would say. "You're the only one they'll listen to." And this was true. Whenever I shouted at them, it would upset them. They sought my good opinion and they hated to lose it. But their repentance was only momentary and they were soon gallivanting off on some silly expedition again.
The Grey Havens was an elven town although men lived there also. Most dwarves could be found in communities outside the town but it was not uncommon for the younger ones to frequent the inns when they wanted a riotous time. More and more, my nephews kept nagging their mother to let them go with friends into the town but, unsurprisingly, she didn't trust them. In the end, I agreed to go too so that there was someone to keep an eye on them.
Our party consisted of a small group of young lads, with me and Balin as their escorts. I wasn't too keen on the town – too many elves - and, somehow or other, both then and later in my life, the place always seemed to spell trouble for me. But, inns like the Mithril Crown were usually only frequented by men and dwarves, which was fine by me, and everyone was forced to leave their weapons at the door to avoid the likelihood of serious injury should a fight break out. It seemed safe enough.
Wrong.
We didn't want to breathe down their necks and so Balin and I took ourselves off to a quiet parlour for a chat whilst the lads did their best to get drunk in the tap room. Heavy drinking amongst the dwarven community was very common: it was a rite of passage. "And they've got to find out somehow what it's like to get up the next morning with a throbbing skull," Balin laughed. We had planned to stay at the inn so there was no concern about getting a whole load of drunken youngsters home late at night. We had all learned the hard way about drunken binges and now it seemed like the turn of my nephews.
Balin and I spent a very pleasant few hours chatting together and sipping our drinks. Now and again, I would pop my head around the door of the tap just to check out how things were going. They were laughing and talking in a circle and, apart from a large collection of empty glasses on their table and their over-bright eyes, everything seemed to be going well. But, just as I was beginning to think that it was getting late and that it was about time to tuck them into bed, we suddenly heard all this yelling and crashing from the bar.
How they told it later was that a large group of men, doubtless fonder of elves than dwarves, had been sitting in the corner glaring at them all evening. Our lads got drunker and bolder and, finally, Kili had said something provocative to the men and all hell had broken loose. It was a one-sided fight because the men were bigger, rougher, older and outnumbered the boys. But, our lot put up a surprisingly good show and, seeing their determination, one of the men had slipped out to the porch from where he grabbed his cudgel. He started laying viciously about him just as Balin and I entered the room. We may have been dwarves and Balin a good age but we were seasoned warriors and we more than made up for our lack of height and numbers.
I managed to place myself between the cudgel and Fili and it caught me a glancing blow on the face. But I barrelled into the man and, wresting the cudgel from his hand, soon drove the majority of the men from the room. The rest were dealt with by Balin.
The room grew suddenly silent and all I could hear were the groans from some of our injured group. The last thing I remember was seeing the landlord tutting on the threshold and then the room went black and a darkness descended.
I came to, tucked up in one of the inn's beds, with my nephews and Balin hovering anxiously over me. I think it was the first time in their lives that the boys had had to worry about me and, when I saw my face in a mirror later, I could understand why: it was very badly bruised and grazed and, although it looked a lot worse than it actually was, I had lost consciousness and my injuries gave the two pause for thought.
After that, they had calmed down quite a lot. They still got up to mischief – it was in their nature – but it was no longer of the serious kind. They tried hard not to worry their mother and they always listened very respectfully to everything I said.
("And so, that was the end of it, was it grandfather?" smiled Rosie. "They grew up and there were no more situations where they needed rescuing?"
Thorin suddenly laughed. "Well, although it's rather embarrassing to relate, Rosie," he continued, "I think there's time for one more story.")
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Pt IV
I had taught my nephews everything I knew, determined to make them into adults who deserved the title, Heirs of Durin. The trouble was, there was one area of knowledge where I remained in total ignorance and that was in the field of love and physical intimacy. I had never – and don't you laugh, Rosie – I had NEVER had a sweetheart. I had never touched a woman or held her hand or kissed her on the lips. I had certainly never done – you know.
Now, you might wonder at this: after all, I was a prince and people also tell me that I am passably good-looking…. (No! VERY good-looking, grandfather!" Rosie exclaimed. Thorin smiled but continued.) Well, let's say I had a lot going for me. But, strangely, it might seem - to outsiders, at least - everyone kept me at a polite distance. Perhaps there were dwarf women who desired me but I was a Prince of Erebor and deserved the utmost respect. If and when I married, then it would be a complex procedure: it would not be my choice nor my people's choice but would be one of duty and doubtless organised by committee. And so, no-one harassed me with unlooked for attentions, nor did I go seeking out a bride myself because all my thoughts were bent utterly and completely on my return to Erebor and I subsumed any physical restlessness in the pursuit of my craft. Once I had reclaimed my kingdom, only then would I think about marriage.
And so, my nephews received no lessons in the art of love, at least not from me. But, behind my back, they began to improve their knowledge without my help, both at the dwarven settlement and in the town. They were such good-looking boys – Kili so dark and Fili very fair – and with a natural charm so that it seemed to me, even from my casual observation, that dwarves of both sexes were drawn to their side and wanted to be in their company. They always seemed to be surrounded by a merry throng up at the dwarven settlement and, once they were old enough to go on their own into town, I didn't, of course, know what went on there.
In this field of knowledge, it was me who was the innocent one.
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It so happened one day when I was up at the settlement, staying with Dis, that I first came across two sisters, Freyja and Gertha. I had never met them before because they were not from the families of Erebor but their parents and their ancestors for many generations had lived in the Blue Mountains. Moreover, their family belonged to that rare group: dwarves who had chosen to live in the Grey Havens. But now, they and their family had returned, seeking the companionship of their own kind.
The two of them were sitting in the shade of a tree together with Fili and Kili as I rode up to my sister's home. And this surprised me because it was quite unusual to see even one dwarf woman in their company let alone two, the ratio of male to female being at least three to one.
My nephews introduced us to each other and I had to admit that they were fine-looking young women. My tastes in beauty have changed ever since I met Tauriel but, then, these two appealed to my dwarven sensibilities. They made me think of my nephews in one respect because Freyja was fair and Gertha was dark. Their hair was incredibly thick and luxuriant and their figures were rounded and voluptuous. And part of their attraction was their manner: they had learned "town ways". They were far more forward than your average dwarf woman and the way they laughed and looked cheekily at me from under coy, dark lashes was very appealing to me. And, for the first time since I had been besotted in my youth with Kagris, all those years ago in Erebor, when I had been only a boy and she had laughed at my infatuation, I found my interest stirring.
My nephews had invited me to sit down with them under the tree and we all laughed and talked and whiled away the sunny afternoon together until I reluctantly got up to do what I was meant to do: visit my sister. As I led my horse away, I heard Kili say: "So, you like him, then?" And his question was greeted with tinkling laughter.
Over the next months, I saw the sisters quite frequently and I was annoyed with myself that I thought about them so much because romance should have been way down on my list of important things to do. The boys teased me, of course: "So, which one, uncle, do you prefer?" they would ask. And I would tell them it was none of their business. But, if truth be told, I didn't have a preference and, in a strange way, I thought of them as one person.
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One summer's day, I was working in my forge when I heard the sound of hooves. And when I went to look, I found the two girls riding into the yard on one horse and they laughed and waved at me.
"Come on, Thorin, don't be boring. We're going on a picnic down by the river. Pack up for the day and come with us." And I couldn't help but grin and be carried away by their enthusiasm. So, I gathered together a few contributions towards the picnic and then the three of us sauntered down to the river bank together. And I'm telling you now, Rosie, that if I had known then what I know now about the reputation of river banks, I would never have gone with them!
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It all started well. We sat in the sun and ate the food and drank the wine, chatting in an amiable fashion together. But then the atmosphere changed a little: I was sitting with my back to a tree whilst they had positioned themselves either side of me. I can pinpoint the exact moment when I felt that things were beginning to get a little uncomfortable – it was when they edged closer and propped themselves up under my arms, leaning against my chest and preventing me from using my own hands to eat and drink.
Freyja was holding a glass of wine and Gertha had a bowl of grapes in her lap. Giggling, Freyja held the glass to my lips and I was obliged to take a sip. The wine stained my lips and I could feel it trickling from the corner of my mouth. "Messy creature," said Freyja in a husky whisper and she leaned forward and delicately licked the wine from my lips with a pink tongue.
I can't explain adequately my reaction or the thoughts that ran through my mind at that moment. Her action truly disturbed me - and not in a nice way. I suppose that my upbringing and my lack of interaction with the opposite sex had made me very reserved; her behaviour seemed totally inappropriate and I felt uneasy and no longer in control. Yes, I will admit that the touch of her tongue upon my lips was very sensuous and a little shiver ran through me but I just didn't know how to handle such things.
And then Gertha gave a quiet chuckle and slowly eased one of her grapes into my reluctant mouth. "Here," she said, "they're delicious. Let me feed you."
I was wary and silent, but I allowed her to push several of the grapes into my mouth whilst they both laughed at my obvious discomfort. And I was just wondering how to extricate myself politely from the situation, when she placed a grape between her sharp, white teeth and pressed the purple globe to my lips. I had no choice but to take it from her. And, as our mouths came together, I received my first, proper, adult kiss.
My reaction was one of total confusion. I liked it – and yet I didn't. I responded but, at the same time, I pulled away. Her tongue chased mine and an erotic thrill ran through me – and yet I felt vaguely repulsed. I had never flirted in my life and I just didn't know what to do.
In the end, she gave her little laugh and, to my relief, drew back from me. But then Freyja started up again. She reached up to the top button of my shirt and undid it. "Have you got any tattoos?" she asked curiously, as she undid a second button. I tried to distract her from my buttons by saying lightly: "Well, I have a few on my arms." And I told them how my nephews used to push up my sleeves as children in search of them.
But, they refused to be sidetracked. Gertha undid a third button and pushed my shirt from one shoulder. "Oh, look," she cooed, "he's got one here!" And, indeed, I did – a rather elaborate one that I was rather proud of – not least because it had been so painful – and which ran from one shoulder to the other across my back.
"What a beauty!" murmured Freyja and she traced the pattern with her finger. And I felt like an interesting object under close scrutiny. "Has he got one on the other shoulder?" she asked her sister and Gertha undid two more buttons and pulled my shirt down further.
I don't think I have ever felt so helpless. My arms were still trapped and, although I could easily have thrown the girls off, I was reluctant to do so because I felt as if I were caught in the middle of a game to which I didn't know the rules.
They had my whole shirt flung open now and were gleefully examining me with probing fingers, searching for any more. My flesh twitched and my body clenched but they were far from done with me yet. They had found the tattoos that dipped below the level of my belt which Freyja was now undoing with skilful fingers.
And then…my knights in shining armour arrived to rescue me! Into the glade came striding Fili and Kili. "Hello, girls! Hello, Uncle Thorin!" they laughed as they threw themselves down on the grass next to them and helped themselves to some of the food. They behaved as if they hadn't noticed my state of disarray. The girls looked annoyed but moved away from me, giving me the chance to hastily do up my buttons. And then I was given a lesson in how to manage difficult women.
My nephews totally charmed them. They smiled and winked and joked and flattered until Freyja and Gertha seemed to have forgotten about me completely and were flirting with their new beaux. In the end, the boys took them for a walk along the river bank and, left alone at last, I quickly cleared away the remnants of the picnic and made all haste back to the sanctuary of my forge.
An hour later, I heard their voices in the yard and the clip-clop of hooves as my nephews cheerfully called a farewell to the sisters. And then they both marched into the forge and stood glowering at me, their arms folded across their chests in some strange reversal of roles.
"What on earth did you think you were doing?" snapped Fili. "Don't you know anything about anything, uncle?"
What a strange echo of my usual reprimands to THEM!
I immediately sprang to my own defence. "Well, perhaps I was having fun and you two interrupted at just the wrong moment," I growled at them.
Kili let out a shout of laughter. "Oh, yes?!" he spluttered in disbelief. "They had your clothes half off and you looked like a trapped animal! Surely you knew what they were up to? Going down to the river bank with them was just about the most stupid thing ever!"
"Well, what were they up to?" I asked sullenly. But, actually, I was very curious to know.
"They were after an Heir of Durin – any Heir of Durin – they weren't fussy," said Fili. I felt quite insulted. "We've been keeping them at arm's length for weeks now and we thought you were clever enough to do the same. But," he continued, giving his brother a look, "we were obviously wrong."
"I warned you he wasn't on the ball, Fili, and that we should have sat him down and given him some advice," grumbled Kili.
"But, would he have listened to us?" asked Fili with a raised eyebrow. "I think not!" This conversation was getting weirder and weirder. Then he turned back to me and waggled an admonitory finger: "If either of them had got you into bed, that would have been the end of it, wouldn't it? An unwanted betrothal! You're lucky we turned up in time to save you from their clutches!"
I glared at them and they glared back at me. And then I suddenly saw the funny side of things and I burst out laughing. And, after a startled pause, they joined in. I held up my hands in surrender. "You're right, boys. I admit it. I know nothing about love and you two are obviously experts. I bow to your superior knowledge in this field and I'm just very glad that you turned up at that truly excrutiating moment."
"Any time, uncle," they grinned. And we adjourned to the house and cracked open a few bottles of beer.
.o00o.
("Oh, grandfather," giggled Rosie. "That was such a funny story." And then she fell silent for a while. "If only I could have met them. I know I would have loved them."
"I loved them," said Thorin quietly. "When they went down fighting on that battlefield, I think it was the worst moment of my existence and, for a time, I felt drained of joy. If it hadn't been for Tauriel, I don't know what would have become of me - because you need love and laughter in your life, you see, and they gave it to me."
Rosie put her arms about Thorin's neck. "You've got us now," she said. "Forever."
Thorin smiled. "Yes, and that must be the very best thing about the Undying Lands," he said. And they walked outside, arm in arm, and joined Tauriel in the sun.)
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Did you like this one, LOL?
Well, we've just had the first mention of Thorin's tattoos in this story and the next story continues the theme. Thorin and the Tattoos will be posted in two weeks' time. Why does Thorin have tattoos and what are their significance? And will Arion want one too and will Tauriel or Mary Sue object? I've got a bit of a feeling about Tauriel, LOL!
