The Whirlwind 8: Kíli


If the columns of their Grand Hall back in the Blue Mountains were to be scaled down to the width of one golden coin, the entire floor plan of their home in Ered Luin would most likely fit into the westernmost antechamber of Erebor's treasury.

Kíli was halfway down to finding out for sure, when Fíli discovered his hiding place.

"There's an army of elves in front of our gates," Fíli said.

Kíli was too focused on his model to look up at his brother, trying to balance a few coins on their side to create narrow parapets along the first-floor ramparts, but he did manage to correct him. "Not quite. There's an army of elves on the other side of the valley, all the way back in Dale."

"So you do know about them."

Kíli was slowly letting go of the precariously stacked up coins, the tip of his tongue in between his teeth in deep concentration, so Fíli had to go without an answer.

"And yet," his brother continued, "you're here, building- a coin castle?"

The disapproval in Fíli's voice was just that one bit too intense, and it made Kíli lift his eyes in hope. His brother was game.

"Not just any castle..." Kíli hinted, making a grand sweep of his hand, letting Fíli recognise the model of their home.

Fíli's eyes lit up with the best kind of fire—mischief. "Let me guess—are these the ruins of Nogrod of old?"

Kíli took the coins gathered in his hand as building material and pelted his brother with them, for that slight. Soon though, Fíli crouched behind the finished southern battlements, and Kíli had to cease his attack unless he'd put his creation at risk. "Oh, shut up and help me," he grumbled at his snickering brother. "You can make a start on the statues at the Gates," he allowed graciously.

Unlike Erebor, their home in Ered Luin had been built out of necessity, instead for the splendor and riches of the site. Thorin's Halls were simple and designed with practicality in mind, and for a time, the brothers worked on the model of it with only mild disagreements.

"I can't believe you forgot something like this! There were three hearths in the Hall of Smiths, not four! The fourth wall had the Óin family tapestry hanging from corner to corner."

Kíli snorted at his brother. "What a pile of wargshit. There was a fireplace on that wall—they hung the tapestry over it when the chimney collapsed." A smirk grew on Kíli's face, almost as of its own accord, whilst he contemplated the wisdom of a confession.

"I should know—it's where I hid your first set of tongs," he added in the end, unable to resist the allure of gloating for a plan well executed.

"But- but I got two weeks of latrine duty for misplacing those!"

"And if you remember correctly, one of those weeks was supposed to be mine."

Kíli snickered at the angry breaths his brother was heaving whilst he angled away, back to the treasury for some more building material. Fíli must have still carried some sore feelings about that whole incident though, because next, Kíli heard his nailed boots stampeding across the coins towards him. He barely managed to turn his head around before his brother was on him, locking his neck in a tight grip.

"You selfish little git!"

Even through the sudden lack of air, Kíli's snickers bubbled up into chortled laughter.

He twisted and hooked his right leg in an attempt to throw Fíli off balance. Instead, he only managed to slip himself, and as his muscles spasmed, white hot pain laced up from the partly healed wound in his thigh, ran up along his spine and assaulted his brain. His laughter was cut short, choked into a pained gasp, and then the world went black and grey for a moment.

"Nadad- Kíli, nadith, everything's fine. I'm right here."

Kíli followed his brother's soft voice, letting it coax him back into full consciousness. Idly, his sluggish brain wondered whether he was truly unconscious if he could still hear in that place of greyness he went to. Was it truly unconsciousness if he could remember the experience, though vaguely, when he came back to?

Whatever happened in those moments, it never lasted long- soon enough, Kíli was blinking the confusion away, his sight focusing on Fíli. His brother was crouching in front of him, holding his shoulders up from the treasury floor.

"I'm back," Kíli said hoarsely and felt Fíli's hands tighten their hold on him in response.

"Well, let's hope this won't happen when the elves attack," Kíli said and then snickered in derision at the bitter certainty that yes, absolutely─his luck would have him go into a seizure at the most inconvenient of moments.

Fíli's concerned face winced, which probably meant he had suspected the same.

"You've- you've also been acting rather strangely," Fíli said next.

"Rather manic, you mean?" Kíli corrected, knowing very well that was the right description, although it was sometimes hard to follow his own moods—which should probably be his main cue.

Fíli nodded slowly. "Since you woke up after the Easterling's… treatment. Could that be what causes your... agitation?"

Kíli rolled his eyes at Fíli's careful wording. "I'm not turning into some delicate youngling, bound to explode on you with every perceived slight, nadad. I suspect these episodes are just a slowly waning shock, like ghost pains." And because it was his brother, Kíli went to explain more, as much as he understood himself. "I keep returning to the same place I dreamt of when feverish from the poison. And when I'm there for too long, when you're not here to coax me out of it, I- I see a bright light appear and I feel a jolt of- well, I don't rightly know of what, but it makes me right giddy afterwards."

Fíli's brows wrinkled up in concern. "Could that be the Easterling's doing?"

Kíli shrugged. "You would know better—unlike me, you were fully conscious through that ordeal."

Fíli frowned some more but Kíli was done with this sappy moment. "It happens less and less often with every passing day—I'm sure the echoes will go away entirely before too long."

He looked wistfully at the half-finished model behind them, but he no longer seemed to possess the necessary fortitude to ignore the outside world. "Let's go see what's happening in the rest of the Mountain. We can finish Thorin's Halls later."

Fíli nodded. He hoisted himself up and then offered an arm to help Kíli on his feet. Kíli rolled his eyes at the gesture but grabbed his brother's hand anyway.


Dwalin caught them only a few steps into the treasury. "What've you two been up to?"

"Looking for the Arkenstone," Fíli readily provided whilst Kíli kept his mouth shut, as it was Fíli's turn to answer that question.

"Hmm," Dwalin rumbled, squirting his eyes at them in suspicion, but there was also worry in them and it immediately caught Kíli's attention.

"Have you seen Balin?" Dwalin asked next.

"Last I saw him, he holed himself up in the library with Bilbo," Fíli said.

Dwalin spun on his heel and headed away, presumably towards the library.

Kíli shared a quick look with Fíli and they simultaneously moved to follow. "What's going on?" Kíli asked Dwalin's back.

"A bird delivered a message from Bard."

"Addressed to Balin?" Fíli wondered.

"No, to Thorin. But I'd rather have my brother there when the king receives it."

Well, if that didn't sound properly ominous.

"What does it say?" Fíli asked before Kíli could.

"That Gandalf is back. That there are orcs marching on Erebor. And that Bard wants us to meet with the pointy-ear bastards already besieging us to talk battle plans." Forever succinct, Dwalin was.

Then Kíli thought properly about what the guard said. He felt his feet halting and he turned to meet his brother's wide-eyed stare. A beat later, they both hastened their steps to catch up to Dwalin's long strides.


They found Balin and Bilbo deep in conversation. They immidiately fell silent and clear their expressions when Dwalin opened the doors to the dust-filled library, but not before Kíli noticed the misty sheen in Balin's eyes.

Dwalin must have seen that, too, but he apparently decided to overlook it for the bigger concerns at hand. "This arrived from Dale," he passed the note to his brother.

As Balin's eyes ran along the lines, Kíli watched his wrinkled face scrunch up even more, into a deep frown. "Has Thorin seen this?" he asked at last.

"Nah. Figured you'd like to be there."

Balin nodded resolutely. "Well, there's no point in dillydallying. Thorin will be by his throne, of course."

And indeed, that was where they found him. Kíli hadn't spent much time in the Throne Room, and not only because he'd taken to avoiding Uncle lately. For the past four days, Kíli marveled at the grandeur of Erebor, but this particular hall, this enormous space from where his forefathers had ruled, only served as a reminder that he'd been born under the stars and never known any other home than a mountain that couldn't comfortably house all of her people, let alone an imposing hall like this. Instead of proud, as Uncle must have felt when stood under the imposing columns, Kíli found himself wanting.

Thorin's reaction upon reading the message went about as badly as it could have been expected in his current disposition.

"It's a ruse," he growled. "They want to lure us out from the safety of the Mountain, most likely to make hostages out of our envoy."

"Gandalf would never betray us as such," Balin argued resolutely.

"The wizard has never bothered to explain his true intentions for this quest. We can't be sure of what he would or would not do now that Erebor is ours."

Bilbo, of all currently present, seemed to be most affronted by such suspicions. "Gandalf might be horribly obtuse at the best of times, but he's a friend to you and the dwarves in your Company, Thorin."

Thorin, surprisingly, seemed to have actually heard the Hobbit's words, and even considered them for a moment, before his brows furrowed once again. "Even if so, how can we be certain it really is him in the city?"

"Bard wouldn't have known to use Gandalf's name otherwise," Fíli pointed out. "We've never mentioned the wizard in front of the bargeman."

"The elves know that Tharkûn travelled with the Company. They've whispered to Bard what to write."

Kíli recoiled at the venom in Uncle's voice even as Balin kept trying to reason. "The Woodland Elves didn't. And even if Thranduil was in alliance with Rivendell, no message from Elrond would have reached-"

"Enough!" Thorin roared, the sound booming through the Throne Room. He leaned forward in his seat, piercing all of them with imperious eyes. "Until Dain arrives, no one is to cross the Gates, in or out. That is your king's order."


"Balin?" Fíli asked softly the moment they left the cavernous hall. "What's happening to him?"

Balin halted his steps to look back at Fíli, and Kíli noticed that the misty sheen had returned to the old dwarf's eyes. "I think you know, laddie," he said, voice equally soft.

Kíli suspected, and by the dread in Fíli's eyes, so did his brother. Kíli made to stand by him, but Balin spoke first. "Let's not talk of such matters here." His eyes glanced at the doors to the Throne Room, before they returned to Fíli. "Come, let's join the others."

He led Fíli down the hall, Dwalin on their heels. Kíli also made to follow, but one glimpse at the hesitating Hobbit halted his steps. Bilbo appeared troubled, rocking on his heels in agitation.

"What's the matter?" Kíli asked.

Bilbo's ears twitched at the question. "I- I don't rightly know. Would you excuse me for a moment? I have to… take care of this one matter."

The hobbit trailed off, already turning his back to Kíli and leaving down a different corridor than Balin and the rest. Kíli stared at the disappearing hobbit for a moment, before shrugging and chasing after Fíli.

Yet, halfway down the corridor, Bilbo's strange behaviour still nibbled at his thoughts. Few steps later, he turned on his heel and returned to follow the Hobbit. He rounded a few corners before he finally heard footsteps up ahead.

"Bilbo? Where are you going?" he called only to hear the steps quicken in response.

Properly alarmed now, he broke into a run, in chase of the sound. Whirling past another corner, he came to a sudden halt as he almost tripped over the Hobbit's furry feet. Bilbo sat leaning against the wall, his head in his palms and legs spread across half the narrow corridor.

"Bilbo! Are you alright?"

Kíli crouched down next to the Hobbit, prying one hand from his face. He couldn't see any visible injuries, but Bilbo's eyes continued staring somewhere above Kíli's shoulder, unfocused.

Until they suddenly snapped back into the present and widened. "The Easterling- Kíli, the Easterling stole the Arkenstone!"

It was now Kíli's turn to stare at the Hobbit in utter confusion. The Easterling- here, deep inside the Mountain? And he took the Arkenstone- the Arkenstone that they hadn't found yet?

A few corridors down, a door shut close, the loud bang snapping Kíli out of his bewilderment. There would be time for questions later. He jumped to his feet and started running towards the noise, shouting at Bilbo over his shoulder, "Get Dwalin and the rest—quickly!"

He didn't look to see whether the Hobbit listened but a moment later, he could hear Bilbo's panicked cries resonating through the corridors, calling for the rest of the Company. Sounds carried in the otherwise empty city. Kíli knew Balin, Dwalin and Fíli weren't far, they would come soon.

In the meantime, he had a thief to follow.

Kíli hadn't done enough exploring in the few days they'd stayed in the Mountain to recognise the quarters he was rushing through right now. The corridors and stairs were narrow, without much embellishment and with only very few doors. He suspected a servants' passage, maybe a direct shortcut from the representative halls down to the kitchens?

Wherever the corridor led, it made it quite easy for Kíli to follow along until he came to the first shut doors. He tried the handle but wasn't surprised to find it locked. Sticking his ear against the wood of the door and halting his frantic breathing for a moment, he listened for sounds beyond. There were some—shuffling of footsteps seemingly right behind the wooden boards, as if someone was pacing on the spot instead of running away.

Even confused by that, Kíli didn't hesitate to beat his fist against the wood. "Open up!"

The sounds seemed to cease for a beat, before Kíli heard footsteps again, this time hurried and getting fainter. He swore and went to examine the lock, knowing he couldn't hope for taking a different route, unfamiliar with the layout as he was.

Luckily, he could already hear a stampede of feet and shouts from behind his back. "In here, I'm in here!" he howled back, directing them.

A moment later, Dwalin, Balin, Fíli and Thorin rounded the corner, Bilbo only a few paces behind them. By their furious expressions, he'd managed to catch them up on the happenings.

"Where is the thief?" Thorin roared.

Kíli just pointed at the shut door.

"Bilbo!" Thorin barked next. "Fetch Nori to open the door. Dwalin, stay guard. The rest- follow me."

Unlike Kíli, it was obvious Thorin knew these corridors and halls, as he led them through the maze without hesitation. They quickly passed through an assortment of storerooms, pantries and larders, making Kíli believe they were indeed circling some kitchens. Finally, Thorin slowed down, gesturing for Fíli, Balin and Kíli behind him to keep quiet, too. Coming to the next crossroad, they stopped completely, and listened.

Before Kíli could register anything, Thorin was pointing to the right, a confused look flickering through his eyes before they again turned determined in their fury. Kíli understood his puzzlement—the noises were coming back from inside the kitchen quarters, instead of fleeing away. Did the thief get lost?

Kíli was the last to ever admit to any shortcomings of Dwarves, but even he was aware they weren't the quietest race, even when they tried to be. Thus, whilst the four of them tried to carefully shuffle towards the thief, their clanking armor and hardened boots still must have announced their presence.

And yet, the noises kept coming from the same spot. There was clunking and one sharp bang, followed by words in a strange language spoken with such derision they could only be swearing.

And then, Thorin broke into a run again, rounding the last corner, Kíli and Fíli right on his heels.

They burst into an oblong chamber, with workbenches lining the walls. A tinkerers' hall, Kíli idly concluded by the assortment of tools hanging above the desks. On the other side of the room, in front of the only other exit and the only lit lamp, stood the Easterling, a large hammer half-raised in both his hands.

What captured Kíli's attention above all though, was the bright gem in front of the thief, giving a soft hue of light from within; illuminating the otherwise gloomy hall with a kaleidoscope of colours.

The inner shine had him so mesmerized it had taken Kíli a moment to realise the precarious position the Arkenstone—for it must have been the Arkenstone, since such otherworldly beauty could only belong to the Heart of the Mountain—was in. Wedged in a vise grip, it laid right in the path of the Easterling's hammer.

"You dare!" Uncle's roar boomed across the hall as they rushed forward. "Step aside, thief!"

In response, the Easterling raised the hammer higher, into a position for a full swing. Despite his doubts that any force this twig of a man would muster up could ever harm the fabled gem, Kíli still hesitated, as did the other three dwarrows, under the gravity of even such a small risk.

"Are you aware the rock is cursed?" the Easterling said into the silence that followed. "Well, the whole hoard is, but as far as I can see, this is the anchor that keeps the curse focused. It's currently possessing your king something fierce."

Whatever Kíli had expected to hear, it wasn't this. His frantic thoughts, which were until now solely focused on catching the thief, came to a sudden halt, trying to reassess the situation for the sheer strangeness of it. Hadn't they all suspected there was something wrong with Thorin?

Uncle himself had no such reservations. He charged forward once again, and Kíli let himself be swept ahead with his king's fury. The Easterling answered their assault by striking down.

The hammer connected with much more force than what Kíli could have ever expected to hide in those thin arms. And under their disbelieving eyes, the gem shattered, shards upon shards flew from in between the iron jaws, until only a soft light lingered where a jewel once had been, until it also disappeared.

Kíli found himself frozen to the spot. In front of him, Uncle also stood still, petrified with his sword raised.

"Well? Any immediate change?" the Easterling asked into the grave stillness, staring intently into Thorin's eyes.

Another beat of silence passed, and then Thorin let out a furious roar and charged at the thief. He was at him in a second, easily swapping aside the hammer the Easterling clumsily swung at his chest plate. With his other hand, Thorin grabbed the thief by his neck and lifted him until his toes wobbled uselessly in the air, searching for the ground in vain.

"For this, I'll have your corpse rot at the Gates forever, you worthless makk en rukhs!"

Kíli watched the thief's eyes bulge wide open in panic. A heartbeat later though, the fear disappeared, replaced by fierce serenity. The green of the Easterling's irises seemed to become even brighter as he stared into Uncle's furious face. For a moment, their gazes seemed to be locked into a conversation only the two of them were privy to.

Next, Thorin was putting the thief down upon the stone, and loosening the fingers around his neck enough for the Easterling to rasp out, "Well, that's a pity."

Then, he lashed out with his right arm, striking Uncle's neck. There was a dim flash of red where it hit and Kíli's heart stopped. The flames must have reflected upon something in the thief's hand—a hidden blade?

Kíli heard himself shout in alarm as Thorin crumbled down, lifeless. Kíli surged forward but the thief also moved, clutching Uncle's body, somehow lifting it almost upright, and putting it between himself and Fíli, who was suddenly in Kíli's line of sight and one step ahead of him.

"Stop! Everyone, stop for a moment!" the Easterling called hurriedly. "Thorin will be fine; he only sleeps. Let's talk."

It was the sight of Uncle being kept as a shield that halted Kíli's steps but it was the claim that Thorin still lived that made Kíli's heart pulse again.

"Master Harry," Balin spoke into the tense silence, his voice so forcefully calm it grated like an axe against a stone. "What have you done to our king?"

"As I've said, he only sleeps. The curse still lingers; he needs time before he shakes off its influence from his real thoughts. Subconsciousness is much better at that kind of work; we tend to overthink it otherwise."

"Speak plainly, thief," Fíli growled, his voice laden with frustration.

The Easterling sighed but obliged. "Thorin needs to sleep the possession off. It might take a while before he wakes up, but when he does, he should be free of the curse. He might have a crack in his neck come morning if you don't give him a pillow, but that's truly the biggest danger he now faces."

He cast them all a quick frown, before his eyes swept around the rest of the room. Kíli recognised the look easily enough—he was searching for an escape route. Well, not under his watch, Kíli thought grimly, as his muscles tensed in preparation.

"Balin," the Easterling's gaze stalled on the old Dwarf behind Kíli's shoulder. "The curse might be rendered aimless now, with the stone destroyed, but it still exists─I advise you to spend the gold generously, and not only because it's the right thing to do. I'm no cursebreaker, and curses are always such a finicky business; I can't begin to guess how else the lingering magic will manifest, if at all. But I'd wager you could dispel it faster by doing what the dragon never would. At the very least, don't aggravate the dying curse with further greediness; that's all I can think to recommend."

He paused, his eyes flickering to Fíli and Kíli again, both of them not so surreptitiously creeping closer. "Maybe think back on my words when you have a moment's peace. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I had to destroy your heirloom. I did try to find a different way but my options are rather limited here."

Kíli met his apologetic eyes with a hard glare, daring the boy to keep sputtering his words; just a few more seconds and Kíli would get close enough to launch at him. The thief sighed and spoke no more.

Instead, he hurled Uncle's unresponsive body at Fíli, who stood the closest. Kíli surged forward a fraction of a second later, neatly sidestepping his brother and his armful of a Dwarven king, and chased after the thief to the door. It swung shut into his face. Kíli barely managed to twist in time to stop the wood with his shoulder instead of his nose. He wrenched it open again and charged after the sounds of footsteps once more.

Noise did carry in the halls, but it also echoed, confusing his sense of direction. Kíli did his best to follow, but the thief was fast, faster than Kíli, on his longer legs and in his light leather shoes. When a door crashed open in a distance and more footsteps joined the fray to confuse him further, Kíli despaired.

When he rounded a corner and found Dwalin, Nori and Dori rushing towards him, he cursed, turned on his heel and shouted over his shoulder, "Follow me, the thief escapes!"

He heard them stampeding behind him, drowning all other sounds. Still, Kíli ran—through three more corridors and up two flights of stairs, until he was forced to stop at a crossroad, utterly clueless.

"Lad, there's no point in chasing further," Dwalin spoke up behind him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. "We won't be able to find him in these corridors, let alone corner him, only fourteen as we are. We better watch the Gates—he needs to go through to escape."

Kíli saw the truth in Dwalin's words. He slumped in defeat against Dwalin's arm, knowing it would take his weight.

"Dori, Nori, go back to the Gates," Dwalin ordered. "From now on, there'll be four dwarrows guarding the ramparts at any given time."

When the two brothers left, Dwalin turned back to Kíli. "Where are the others?"

Kíli perked up. He swept his eyes around the four corridors leading from their spot, and realised he was completely and utterly lost. "Eh- back in a hall that looked like a tinkerer's workshop?"

Dwalin stared at him for a moment. "You realise we're on the floor of the guilds?" he asked, voice dry.

Kíli shrugged sheepishly. "We can always shout."


Nadad—brother, Nadith—little brother

makk en rukhs—son of an orc


A/N: I'm quickly running out of chapters where it makes sense to mention a rec of a Hobbit AU, so here's another one, in case you haven't by some weird chance read it yet:

Homeward Bound by ISeeFire

It's one of my favourite portrayals of Fíli and Kíli, in which they're also forced to take more responsibility. A finished series spanning through the War of the Ring, as well. ISeeFire writes masterfully, and although not all of her stories are my style, this one struck many right chords. It's a very entertaining read and I encourage you to give it a try.

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(I'd like to give something back to the authors that have directly or indirectly inspired me in my own writing. At the end of my chapters, I'll be mentioning stories that I'm more than happy to recommend for your further reading)