A/N: So sorry about the delay. Half the family's been down with the flu which meant no writing/editing time for me.
Day 69
It's been sixty-nine days. Tomorrow, Fíli will officially be crowned as King under the Mountain, the most powerful of all Dwarflords in Middle Earth. He tries not to think about that fact too much, for fear that if he did, he might saddle his pony and gallop off to some remote place in the mountains to hide from the sheer madness of it all.
Distraction. Distraction is key, he finds, with his mind's tendency to spiral down into the wildest, most terrible imaginings if he is left to his own devices for too long. Which is why he has decided that there is nothing to be done today that will help him prepare for the following day and has agreed to an outing with Ásta instead.
A passionate equestrian, Ásta has greatly enjoyed exploring the area surrounding the mountain on horseback since her arrival at Erebor one week ago and has invited Fíli to join him more than once. So far, he has been reluctant to do so, preferring to keep their meetings to a more public frame. Why, he is not entirely sure.
Ásta entices him, he cannot deny that fact. She is vibrant and passionate, her wit and tongue sharp without ever being offensive to good taste. In his conversations with her, he has always discovered a common ground, an alikeness of thinking that has made it easy to navigate even the more sensitive topics. And when he listened to her sing on her third night at Erebor, her full, throaty voice filling the Great Hall with sad, heartbreakingly beautiful notes... well, he felt something stir inside him then. Something real.
Still, he has kept a respectful distance, despite clear signals from Ásta's side that she would not mind at all spending some time alone with him.
You're afraid to get closer to her, aren't you? Kíli's voice is relentless in his mind, but he listens to it anyway, because in his heart he knows that it's got a point. You're afraid you might discover that this tentative spark is just that – a spark that will fizz out once your curiosity is satisfied. And then, where would that leave you?
Yes, where would that leave him indeed? Back to where he was before, would be the truthful answer. Back to longing for what he can never have.
Which presents him with a bit of a conundrum. Spending time with Ásta might prove an effective way of distracting his silly heart from its obsession with a certain bowman's daughter. At the same time, doing so holds the risk of confirming that what is between him and the Blacklock princess can in no way compare to stolen moments on balconies and in libraries, or that single, forbidden kiss outside his room.
Well, if that is really the case, he would rather find out sooner than later, which is precisely why he agreed to this excursion on the spur of the moment, surprising not only himself but also Ásta, who had clearly already resigned herself to another polite declination when she invited him to come along.
On his way to the stables, Fíli is jerked from the wanderings of his mind when he finds himself flanked by Thad and Flad, looking as cheerful as ever.
"And how are you on this fine day, Your Highness?"
Fíli smirks. Despite what the formal address might suggest, his relationship to the two brothers is not exactly that of a sovereign to his servants. They've become friends over the past few weeks and the brothers are very well aware of that fact. But if they want to play that game then fine, he'll indulge them for a bit.
"Very well indeed," he replies stiffly, keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Thank you for your concern."
Thad and Flad exchange a look and even out of the corner of his eye, Fíli can see the mischievous twinkle in their gaze.
"Would Your Majesty like for us to perform any special services today?" Flad asks.
"We are at your complete disposal," Thad adds with a small bow.
Ah, now Fíli knows where this is going. He laughs. "Sorry, none of your little carouses for me today," he informs them. "I'm to meet with Ásta now and go over the schedule for tomorrow with Balin later. I might be in need of a bit of a nightcap after dinner, though."
He expected at least a little bit of enthusiasm at this suggestion and is confused when the two brothers exchange an odd look, their usually so jovial faces rather grim.
"What? What's the matter?" Durin help him, if fate has decided to spring some bad news on him today of all days he really might take that pony and go hide in the mountains.
"It's just...," Thad begins, but then trails off, looking to his brother for assistance.
Flad sighs at having to be the one to take charge, but clears his throat in preparation for what he has to say. "Are you certain that it is wise to go roving about with that Blacklock?" he asks Fíli, his tone cautious.
Fíli is completely taken aback by this question. "Why on earth wouldn't it be?"
Flad hesitates, shifting a bit uncomfortably under Fíli's confused stare. "It's... well ... Her family has a bit of a reputation."
Thad, always the more direct one, huffs. "Reputation might be putting it a bit mildly. Infamy, I'd rather call it. Lots of people turning up dead wherever they go."
"People die all the time," Fíli returns, his friend's words not really serving as a good explanation for him why he should suddenly be wary of Ásta.
"Aye, they do, don't they," Thad says, completely serious for a change. "But with them its usually the spouses who wind up dead and from rather suspicious causes, too."
"They have had one daughter and one son in every branch of their family tree for generations – which is unusual enough in itself," Flad explains. "And once that spawn is out of the cradle, their mothers or fathers who have married into the family have a tendency to fall ill, disappear, or be murdered by mysterious assassins."
Fíli takes a moment to process this. He has a hard time imagining that there might be any truth to those accusations, but their seriousness warrants closer examination. "And how do you propose to know those things?" he asks the two brothers.
Thad and Flad exchange another look and say nothing, which prompts Fíli to raise his eyebrows in what he hopes is a disapproving manner. "I have neither time nor taste for gossip," he tells the two young Dwarves in his sternest voice.
"Just because there is plenty of gossip on the matter does not mean that there cannot be any truth behind it!" Thad exclaims hurriedly.
Fíli gives an impatient huff and tries to step around the brothers, but they are faster and block his path. He glares at them, but unless he is willing to use physical violence, he has no choice but to listen to them.
"We've met Ásta and her clan before, in the Iron Hills," Flad says in a conspirative voice. "They're cold and cunning and just being in the same room with them gives me goosebumps. That princess of theirs especially."
As Fíli continues to frown at the two Dwarves before him, he notices a movement behind them and feels his heart sink. Ásta has just rounded a corner behind them and is looking at all three of them with a stony expression.
Fíli returns his gaze to the brothers, his jaw set. "I have no reason to doubt the integrity of either Ásta or her family," he says and pushes past them.
Thad and Flad turn to look after him and at least have the decency to blush and avert their eyes when they notice Ásta standing a few feet behind them.
"Come on," Fíli hears Flad mutter to Thad as he grabs him by the elbow and the two of them disappear back the way they came from, neither daring to look back. Fíli watches them go before turning back to Ásta with a small sigh. She is studying him intently and Fíli has to fight very, very hard to hold her gaze. Damn those two young troublemakers.
"It pains me to think that you had to listen to this," he says, slowly advancing on Ásta until he stands right before her, looking into her deep, dark eyes. "Please believe me that nothing I said or did provoked any of those comments and that I do not believe in nor agree with anything that was just said."
Ásta says nothing, but continues to gaze at him and Fíli feels as if he is being turned inside out under her stare. He tries his best to keep his expression open, hoping that she will find whatever she is looking for in his eyes. That appears to be the case, for after a few moments she gives a small nod.
"I believe you," she says, and Fíli feels a breath rush out of him he wasn't even aware he was holding. "I've heard much worse things being said about both myself and my family, so don't fret," she assures him with a faint smile, but Fíli thinks he can still see a certain hardness around her eyes and mouth. She's more hurt than she is letting on, he thinks.
"I'll make sure to have a word with those two," he assures her. "Such behavior cannot be tolerated."
Ásta's smile widens by a fraction and she loops her arm through his, pulling him a long in the direction of the stables. "Don't waste your time worrying about them," she says. "They're just still vexed because I turned down their advances when we met before, in the Iron Hills. Injured pride can cause people to come up with all kinds of fantastic tales."
Fíli raises his eyebrows in surprise. Neither Thad nor Flad strike him as particularly vain, but they certainly do have a tendency to chase after every bit of skirt in the immediate vicinity. Be that as it may, he will still need to talk to them both about throwing around such accusations. Ásta might be his only chance at an acceptable outcome of this whole marriage debacle and he cannot let that be ruined by thoughtless words or misplaced protectiveness.
For now, though, he resolves to grant his undivided attention to the Dwarven woman beside him, so that he can come up with his own, long-overdue estimation of her character.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Fíli sheds his coat the minute he walks through the heavy double doors leading into his private rooms, carelessly dropping the garment onto the floor. He proceeds to a small, marble serving table at the far end of the room and pours himself a drink from a jug placed there for his convenience. After knocking back the first goblet, he pours a second one, sipping this one more slowly while he reflects on the last couple of hours.
After the rocky start, his little excursion with Ásta went rather smoothly, their conversation flowing effortlessly between them and the mild weather and open lands a welcome change to his usual surroundings inside the mountain. As to his goal of determining his companion's character and their chances at a future together that is more than just the result of an arranged marriage, he did not make much progress, however.
Ásta is outgoing and he has no reason to suspect that she is anything but open with him, but still he cannot shake the feeling that there are certain aspects of her person she is not showing him - yet. He cannot hold that against her, though. It is her personal happiness as well that is at stake and she has every right to be a little cautious about revealing too much, too soon. Mahal knows Fíli himself has yet to allow her a glimpse of some of the things that are in his heart or the darkness that sometimes threatens to swallow him in those moments when he misses Kíli the most.
Still, he would describe his hours spent with the young Dwarf woman as pleasant and a definitive step towards becoming friends. The thing that is weighing on his spirits right now is what happened upon their return to the mountain.
After taking their ponies to the stables and seeing to that they were fed and made comfortable, they walked back through the main gate, Ásta once again looping her arm through his in a companionable, lighthearted manner as she chatted to him about tomorrow's feast. And there, at the far end of the entrance hall and deeply engaged in a conversation with Óin, was Sigrid, clearly just about to return to Dale after one of her visits with the Dwarven healer.
Despite the large dimensions of the hall, her head lifted immediately when Fíli and Ásta entered. Her eyes found Fíli's and for once he found himself unable to delight in the way they lit up when they were together. He stiffened, wanting desperately to remove his arm from Ásta's hold but knowing that this would look even worse. He watched helplessly as Sigrid's eyebrows rose slightly in confusion when her eyes shifted to the Dwarf woman at his side and never had he hated himself more than when he witnessed something in her usually so bright gaze dull, resignation hardening her lovely features.
She had been bound to find out some day and it was only right that she should know that whatever had been between them could be allowed to go no further, but still Fíli would have wished it had not happened like this, not at all. Before he had a chance to react in any way, Ásta spoke.
"It surprises me that your healer has nothing better to do with his time than to spend it with this girl. But then I suppose he is rather old."
Fíli tore his eyes away from the painful picture before him and found Ásta studying him intently. He tried his best to rein in the despair that must at least to some degree have been showing on his face.
"Óin's services have been and continue to be of immeasurable value," he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral which was no easy feat, given the sudden tightness in his chest. "As for Bard's daughter... if the recent past has taught me anything then it is that any connection between our people and those around us should be fostered instead of frowned upon. Óin assures me that she is as bright a student as he could wish for, even if she is no Dwarf."
Ásta looked contrite, her lovely eyes deep, dark pools as she gazed up at him. "I apologize if I spoke out of turn."
"It's fine," Fíli said, turning away from her to look for Sigrid once more. If only there was a way for him to make this easier for both of them... if only there was a way for him to explain.
To his dismay he saw that Sigrid had bid Óin farewell in the meantime and was on her way to the gate, keeping to the other side of the hall, her eyes fixed upon the ground in front of her. He tried to catch her gaze, needing to assure himself that she was alright, but she did not look up as she hurried past to disappear among the throng of people traveling to Dale.
He definitely deserved the agony in his heart as he watched her go, but that did not make it any less hard to bear and, worse, keep a straight face while doing so. Which was why he made his excuses to Ásta soon after and fled to the privacy of his quarters, that drink of mead he is currently sipping the only thing keeping him from falling apart after what has just transpired.
"Thirsty?" A voice breaks the complete silence which his quarters provide and, startled, Fíli spins around, splashing some of the amber liquid in his glass on his tunic.
Dwalin is sitting in Balin's usual seat by the window, looking perfectly at home. He arches an eyebrow.
"That Blacklock princess certainly seems to keep you on your toes. I take it things are going well in that matter?"
Fíli empties his goblet and turns his back to Dwalin to fill it once more. "I would rather not talk about that right now if that's alright."
"Then we won't," Dwalin agrees, but Fíli can practically hear the concerned frown in his voice. A change of topic is in order.
"I was expecting Balin – did something happen to deter him?"
"He'll be along shortly," Dwalin says. "I just wanted to drop in and see how you were doing."
Fíli turns around once more and finds the Dwarven warrior studying him with an intent expression. "Came to see if I'm preparing my escape?" He is joking of course and Dwalin knows that, too, but they are both aware that his statement is at least a little bit founded in reality.
Dwalin chuckles. "I know you wouldn't run out on us. You're too loyal." That last bit is said with an earnestness that touches upon Fíli's heart and be finds himself compelled to avert his gaze.
"Not too long ago I put my own desires above the greater good when I stayed behind at Lake-town." He is not sure why he feels the need to talk down Dwalin's praise of his character. Maybe it's because of the doubts he knows himself to still harbor about his fitness to rule. Or maybe it's the knowledge that if his heart would get what it wants he would betray everything he stands for, everything they all fought for.
Dwalin leans forward in his seat, his face serious with concern. "You didn't do that for yourself though, did you? You did it for your brother. And who is to say how things might have turned out if you hadn't. Who is to say that it wasn't the right choice at the time."
With a small sigh, Fíli reaches for a second goblet and pours Dwalin a drink, handing it to the older Dwarf on his way to the window. He looks past the silhouette of the City of Dale at the dark, oblong shape in the distance. Lake Esgaroth.
"It didn't matter in the end, though," he says softly. "I lost Kíli anyway."
"It did matter," Dwalin says, coming to join him at the window. "You fought for your brother just as you are now fighting for all of us."
Fíli contemplates this for a moment. "It's hard," he finally admits. "It's just so bloody hard." He's thinking of all the opposition he is still facing, of the difficulties he needs to navigate. He's thinking of the things he has to give up in order to fulfill his duty.
"And it's going to get harder still," Dwalin concedes. "But you've done remarkably well and will continue to do so. And I'm very, very proud of you. Thorin would be, too."
There's a lump in Fíli's throat and he flushes it down with another sip from his goblet. "Is everything in order for tomorrow then?" He needs to move on from this conversation – his poor heart can only endure so much in one day.
"Aye," Dwalin says solemnly. "It's mostly formality, obviously. Still – cannot hurt for things to go smoothly for once."
Fíli nods in agreement. It is true that he has been acting as king for a while now, even if the crown has not been officially his yet. They could have done this earlier, but somehow there was always another reason to wait and eventually they agreed on the seventieth day after the battle, trusting that invoking the seven dwarf kingdoms by choosing this particular date would appeal to their people.
Emptying his goblet he puts it aside for now. He needs to slow down a little bit – he suspects that his brethren will expect him to join them for a little gathering after dinner and he should not be drunk before that already. He turns his head to find Dwalin studying him once more, leaning with his shoulder against the window pane, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
"I'm ready," Fíli says, hoping to settle any doubts the older Dwarf might still hold. "Or at least as ready as I'll ever be."
Dwalin searches his eyes and appears to find whatever it is he is looking for. "Good. I'll leave you to it then. Go easy on that mead."
"I will," Fíli says with a lopsided grin. Dwalin knows him too well. Before the older Dwarf can cross the treshold into the hallway, Fíli calls out to him once more. "Thank you. For being so patient with me."
Dwalin inclines his head, accepting his thanks. "It's easier being patient when you know it to be worth the wait. I never doubted you."
"That makes one of us, at least," Fíli mutters, but Dwalin does not hear him, having already pulled the door shut behind him.
With a small sigh, Fíli surveys his room, looking for something other to distract himself with until Balin arrives other than that jug of mead. His eyes fall onto a small object resting on the chair Dwalin previously occupied. Thinking that his companion must have forgotten something of his, Fíli advances and gasps softly when he realizes what it is that he is looking at. Kíli's rune stone, recently polished. A small hole has been drilled into the stone through which a leather string has been threaded so that it can be worn around the neck, like a piece of jewelry.
Fíli' fingers tremble as he picks up his brother's talisman. He runs his thumb across the engravings on it once before fastening the string around his neck and tucking the stone under his shirt so that it rests right above his heart.
You'll be with me Kíli. Always.
xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Fíli's suspicions prove correct and after dinner he finds himself cornered by Bofur, Nori and Ori who refuse to let him leave the dining hall before he has sat down with the lot of them and had a few drinks.
"It will be like old times!" Bofur coaxes him and Fíli bites back the remark that things are most definitely not like old times. No one has forgotten those who are not with them and tonight is not the night to argue about such things.
And so Fili joins a long table around which everyone still left of Thorin's company is grouped, bottles of mead and tankards of ale already being merrily passed around. They all cheer when he sits down among them, deliberately not choosing to take the seat at the head of the table. Tonight, he is just one of them. Tomorrow, everything will change.
Dwalin occupies the seat opposite and they exchange a look, a slight incline of the head the only way in which they both acknowledge their earlier conversation. Fíli lifts his hand to touch the stone around his neck through the layers of clothing on top of it before raising his cup. Dwalin mirrors his action and they both drink, the strong wine burning its way down Fíli's throat.
To Kíli.
They are halfway through Bofur's retelling of how he once nicked an entire casket of ale during a feast back in the Blue Mountains when Fíli becomes aware of a presence behind him. He shifts in his seat and finds Thad and Flad behind him.
The identical looks of contrition on their faces are almost comical. All that would be missing to complete the picture of two misbehaved boys called before their elders for confession would be if they began shuffling their feet nervously. Still, Fíli manages to keep a straight, even stern face.
"We have come to seek your forgiveness," Flad says after a beseeching glance from his brother. "Clearly we have transgressed a boundary this morning and should not have assumed that we have any right to question our king's judgment."
Despite himself, Fíli feels the corner of his mouth twitch at the sight of those two utterly miserable young Dwarves. "You have every right to question my judgment," he tells them, "and I would ask you to never stop doing so. But—" he adopts a more serious tone, "—you ought to be more careful with the things you say. People might get hurt as the result of your actions."
"Yes," the two brothers say, their heads hanging low.
Alright, Fíli has had enough of playing the stern schoolmaster now. "Come, then. Sit and have a drink with me."
His invitation does not miss its intended effect and the eyes of Flad and Thad light up, their unhappiness from a few moments ago almost forgotten. Fíli scoots a little further down on the bench he is sitting on to make room for his friends and they join him eagerly.
Out of seemingly nowhere Thad produces a tall, elegantly shaped bottle. "I received this as a gift myself and would be honored to share it with you," he says, proceeding to uncork the bottle.
A pair of boots appears in Fíli's vision and he cranes his neck to look up at Bofur prancing around on the table.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" the jocular Dwarf asks and plucks the bottle from Thad's fingers to sniff its contents. His eyes gleam excitedly. "An excellent drop, I should say. And there's plenty for all of us."
He squeezes in next to a disgruntled Dwalin and proceeds to line up five silver cups in front of him into which he splashes a generous amount of the dark red liquid. He pushes the cups towards Fíli, Thad, Flad and Dwalin respectively.
"To good health," Bofur announces and lifts his cup.
"To our young king," Dwalin corrects him, his own cup raised alongside with those of the others. Bofur shrugs.
Then, several things happen at once. Fíli, smirking at Dwalin over the edge of his cup, is distracted for a split second by some sort of ruckus amongst the Dwarves at one of the tables behind Dwalin and lowers his drink by a fraction. Meanwhile Bofur, impatient to taste Thad's gift to them, knocks back his cup without waiting for the rest of them. The cup slips from his fingers and clatters onto the floor while Bofur clutches his throat and makes a horrible, retching sound, his eyes wide.
Before Fíli can comprehend any of this, Dwalin leaps across the table and knocks the cup that almost but not quite touches Fíli's lower lip from his hands, spilling its contents everywhere. Next to him, Thad and Flad jump up in their seats, knocking over their own beverages.
"It's poisoned!" Dwalin yells.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Amidst all the shouting and a fair bit of shoving that has erupted all over the dining hall, it takes Fíli's mind a moment to register what is happening and when it finally does, he finds himself already on the way to the heavy double doors, escorted by a very worried Balin and a group of Dwarves who have been assigned as his personal guard. He turns to look over his shoulder and sees the remainder of his brethren grouped around Bofur who is now on the floor, still thrashing about. He stops, the guards who were walking behind him bumping into his back.
"I have to make sure that Bofur is alright."
Balin's hand is on his elbow and he gives it a gentle but firm tug. "Not now, laddie. We need to get you out of here and somewhere safe." His voice is calm and collected, but Fíli can see the urgency in the older Dwarf's eyes.
"But I—"
"Óin is here. He will know what to do. We have to assess the situation, but to do so, I need you somewhere where no one can get to you." Balin sounds resolute and when Fíli attempts to struggle against his hold, he exchanges a quick look with Glorin, the head of his guard, and to his great dismay Fíli finds himself grabbed under the armpit and all but dragged out of the dining hall by the bulky redhead.
"Come then, Your Majesty," Glorin grunts and earns himself a glare from said majesty.
Still, Fíli ceases his struggling and allows himself to be escorted away from the more public areas of the mountain and to his private quarters where he is then locked up with nothing and no one to distract his troubled mind.
So much for things going smoothly for once.
