This could not have gone any worse, Fíli thought with something akin to deep-seated dread at the sight of his brother's glowering form.
"Ah, apologies, Cousin Kíli," Thorin cleared his throat. He casually rolled off of a wide-eyed, frozen Fíli and brushed the leaves and branches off his grass-stained shirt with cool nonchalance. "Cousin Fíli and I were having a lovely stroll through the gardens –"
"And the stroll ended with you on top of my brother," Kíli gritted out, his voice cold and hard.
Behind him, Tauriel winced and placed a placating hand on the archer's shoulder. Kíli shrugged it off roughly. "I would hate to imagine what would end up happening if you decided to dine with him," he sneered. "Or Mahal forbid, if you were to carry a private conversation with him!"
"Stop it, Kíli!" Fíli barked out. He shook his head to snap himself out of his haze and scrambled to his feet, only to hiss at the sudden, sharp pain snaking up his spine.
"Let me," Thorin muttered. With a gentle hand on Fíli's elbow and another supporting his lower back, he slowly guided the other up, exuding all the grace and dignity of a lord despite his dirt-covered hair and clothing.
"Thanks," Fíli flashed a quick, grateful smile. He turned back in time to catch the deepening scowl on his brother's face. "Thorin wasn't lying," Fíli gritted out. "We were joking around when you found us. Whatever it is that you're trying to imply is flat out wrong."
He glanced at the cursed Elf standing silently behind Kíli, and narrowed his gaze at her hand that had found its way back on his brother's shoulder as if it belonged there. "If anything, I should be asking what the two of you are doing here this fine afternoon." Fíli's lips curled into a sneer. "I'm sure you are enjoying a lovely stroll through the garden alone as well."
Kíli spluttered with outrage. "Don't you dare try to shift the blame on me! Tauriel and I were actually visiting the garden." He gestured in a broad, dismissive sweep to Fíli's mussed hair and stained clothing, "We're not using it to disguise some – some indecent ulterior motive."
"Indecent ulterior motive?" Fíli barked out a short, mocking laugh. "Why don't you tell us exactly what you mean by that?"
"What Cousin Fíli means is that there is a misunderstanding, Cousin Kíli," Thorin interjected quickly. "I assure you that nobody harbours any indecent ulterior motives towards anybody here."
The glare Kíli gave to Thorin could have killed a lesser man. "And I think that that's complete and utter bollocks."
"Kíli." Tauriel's hand tightened a little on the young Dwarf's shoulder.
Fíli barely felt his nails digging into his palms from his clenching fists as his brother took a half step back to lean into her touch.
"Perhaps this was all just a misunderstanding," Tauriel continued in her damnably calming voice. "We should leave and let them be. We can visit the woods instead, we had a wonderful time the last time we were there."
"I don't want to go, not without an explanation," Kíli hissed back petulantly, and Fíli could feel the vein in his temple throb harder. "I made trusted him once and that was a mistake! Who knows what other secrets he's hiding if you don't shake them out of him!"
That…that hypocritical, lying little dog turd!
"Oh, this is rich coming from you, Kíli! Clearly, you haven't been keeping any secrets at all!"
Fíli stomped forward only to be jerked back by Thorin, but he was not done, and damn if he wasn't going to finish this fight. It was a thousand years too early before he was willing to take that level of bullshit from Kíli of all people. "What right do you have demanding any kind of explanation from me? It wasn't as if you cared what I was doing before, so spare me the act!"
A look of confused hurt shot across Kíli's face before it gave way to a hardened gaze and anger flushed cheeks, but Fíli could care less. Good. Let him feel bad!
"It is my business as your guard to ensure your safety!" Kíli snarled back with righteous fury. "And if you think I won't tell Dwalin about whatever it is you are up to, then you have another thing coming!"
"Oh, don't you dare pull that superiority horseshit on me – "
"I'm afraid I must interrupt again," came Thorin's raised voice. He tugged at Fíli to get him to step back a few more steps and raised an unimpressed brow when the blond snarled at the manhandling. "Cousin Kíli," his continued steadily over Fíli's combative struggling, "your goal to guard your brother is more than respectable but I wasn't lying when I said I bear no ill will towards him. The last thing I want to do is to compromise his safety."
"And why in Durin's name should I believe you?!"
"Well for one, I highly doubt I'd be capable of taking him on. My last attempt ended with me cowering fearfully behind a bush," Thorin deadpanned.
Silence fell over the group, thick and immediate. Fíli stopped his struggling to stare blankly back at Thorin. Even Tauriel looked a little dumbstruck.
"I – " Kíli furrowed his brow. "What?"
Thorin paused, his heavy gaze flitting between the still seething (albeit somewhat confused-looking) archer and the stoic Elf.
Then, as if the rays of sun breaking through a heavy set of storm clouds, his lips slowly curled into a saccharine smile.
"As I was explaining earlier," Thorin began, his tone smooth and honeyed, "our walk through the gardens evolved into a…ah...minor contest of sorts. That is to say, Cousin Fíli and I had a slight disagreement and we decided to settle it through an impromptu contest of wit, agility and strength."
Fíli barely stopped himself from snorting.
Kíli likewise eyed Thorin with a healthy dose of suspicion. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Thorin positively lit up in excitement. "Ah, I suppose it is only fair that I start from the beginning!" he grinned bright and happy and, if Fíli's eyes had not deceived him, a bit smug like a cat that had gotten its cream. "You see, I approached Cousin Fíli in hopes that he would be kind enough to show me the garden. Earlier this week, I had heard from Lady An and Lord Jari rave about the Great Garden of Erebor, especially with the way it was peculiarly designed. Lord Ginnar, in particular, was absolutely tickled by the rolling hills and meandering roads. We don't have anything of the sort in the Iron Hills, so it was apparently a rather novel sight to behold. But I, on the other hand, was not so easily swayed by their pretty words. I most certainly wasn't!"
Kíli scrunched his face. "Where is this going exactly?"
"I beg for your patience, Master Kíli. I will get to the important bit soon enough as you shall see, but all of this is important because it provides context!" Thorin gave a flippant wave in his direction. "Now as I was saying," he furrowed his brow in mock seriousness, "I said to the Lord Ginnar, 'Master Dwarf, a garden is no different than any other randomly placed shrubs and trees we have growing in the wild at the foot of our mountain. I fail to see how spectacular a sight that a bunch of growing green plants can make.' But he only replied, perhaps a bit affronted – and rightly so, I must admit now – that this garden is no ordinary garden since it was lovingly designed by Master Baggins, or as we like to call him, 'the bravest little Hobbit of them all!' Are you familiar with that moniker that we have given Master Baggins, Cousin Kíli?"
"Er…yes?"
"Excellent! And no braver Hobbit deserves such a high praise from us Dwarves, I'd imagine. Not after all he has done for the line of Durin. But I digress!" Thorin again waved a dismissive hand, cutting off Kíli before he could interject again. "As I was saying, Lord Ginnar seemed mildly insulted that I was not as impressed as he was by the fact that Master Baggins had a hand in crafting the Erebor Garden. I am ashamed to admit that at the time, I really wasn't convinced that I could fully appreciate Master Baggins' handiwork since I was never attracted to growing green things. After all, we Dwarves love the cool beauty of glittering caverns and the warm glow of polished gems. Trees and plants are a bit lost on us, wouldn't you agree, Cousin Kíli?"
"I – I suppose?" Kíli was starting to look a little flummoxed.
"Yes, most excellent!" Thorin clapped enthusiastically. "So I said to Lord Ginnar, 'Master Dwarf, I remain unconvinced that I would like the sight of green growing things no matter what you've said.' And Lord Ginnar, being the old shrew Dwarf that he is, happily bet me a keg of ale that I would eat my words once I have seen the garden with my own two eyes. I was confident that I would win this bet easily if I were to simply stroll around the garden by myself, but it would be dishonourable if I had not made an attempt to appreciate the garden to its full extent. That would be an absolute insult to Master Baggins' effort! After all that he has done for us, the least I could do is make an effort to appreciate Master Baggins' craft, wouldn't you say so, Cousin Kíli?"
"Er –"
"Yes, that's exactly what I thought as well," Thorin nodded, undeterred. "So I figured, well why don't I at least try to arrange a guided tour? I should find someone who would be more familiar with Master Baggins' artistry to ensure that nothing would be lost on me. After all, it was the honourable thing to do. Not to mention, if I do win the bet fairly, Lord Ginnar wouldn't whinge so much. Durin knows how much he likes to complain, him and that miserable codger Lord Loni! Woe beholds anyone who has the displeasure of meeting that old bastard!" Thorin spat on the ground and uttered a quick, well-known prayer to Mahal for dispelling curses.
"Luckily," he continued all sunshine and happiness again, "Cousin Fíli here has graciously accepted my request and on such a short notice too! Isn't that right, dear Cousin?" Thorin turned to Fíli, who jerked back at being addressed.
"Right," Fíli nodded easily. He had absolutely no idea what was going on in Thorin's tale but he certainly wasn't about to ask, not if it meant seeing his brother looking more lost and confused by the second. "That's exactly what happened."
"Right, exactly!" Thorin beamed. Without delay, he turned back to Kíli and began again with gusto, "So Cousin Fíli and I meandered our way through the garden, and I must say, Lord Ginnar was right! Master Baggins has done such a marvellous job. It's all very green and lush and as I have been told, distinctly Hobbit-ish in style. Of course, I became curious about the Hobbits. Curious creatures they are and if they're anything like Master Baggins, I'm sure that they are lovely people. I haven't met any of them save Master Baggins. Say, Cousin Kíli, you've been to Master Baggins' village. How did you find the Hobbits?"
"They're…uh…a bit skittish?" The dazed look on Kíli's face had only worsened. "Look, Thorin, this is all good and all – "
"Ah, that makes perfect sense," Thorin cut in. "I've been told that Hobbits are peace-loving folks. To be a bit wary of the outside world is a healthy instinct for them to develop. I personally can't imagine what it would be like to live in perpetual fear though, but not every creature could be blessed by Mahal to be strong and hardy!"
"I imagine that our Bilbo is an exception from other Hobbits," Fíli added quickly before Kíli could open his mouth again. "Apparently, his bravery isn't highly regarded. He is considered to be an oddball for venturing away from his home. Hobbits like their six meals a day and their cozy Hobbit holes."
"Six meals a day," Thorin whistled. "And here I thought us Dwarves had everyone beat when it came to having a hearty appetite! I know there was a reason why I like Master Baggins so much, but I digress!" He paused, "Now where was I?"
"We were in the garden," Fíli helpfully reminded him.
"Right, right! We were milling about at the garden and you've made a comment on how it was supposed to resemble the Hobbits' lands. Naturally, our conversation shifted towards Hobbits and your personal experiences with those…rambunctious Hobbit children." Thorin sent a teasing grin that had Fíli scowling a little. "We got into a disagreement then, one that was settled through an impromptu contest of aim and agility. I promised to never again mention the rambunctious Hobbit children if you won."
"And yet here you are mentioning it. Twice," Fíli mumbled sourly.
"Yes, well that was before I had known of your deliberately hidden, ruthless nature and your ability to rain fresh hell upon his enemies so that was hardly a fair wager to begin with," Thorin said blithely.
He turned back to Kíli, "Did you know that your brother is utterly merciless? Merciless like those rambunctious Hobbit children!" Thorin clicked his tongue like a disapproving schoolmaster. "I spent fifteen minutes hiding in the bushes to escape the waves of berry projectiles that he had volleyed at me. Fifteen minutes! It was a scarring ordeal, worsened from the way he was basking in his own glory afterwards – "
"I was not – "
" – his maniacal, cackling laughter ringing in the clearing."
"I did not cackle!"
"I was completely at his mercy." Thorin shook his head and sighed. "In a desperate gambit to salvage my dignity, I tried to retaliate with my own counter-attack but alas, it wasn't my cleverest of ideas. All I ended up accomplishing was bowling into Cousin Fíli like a great, big, clumsy oaf. But at least I got him to stop – "
"By cheating!" Fíli growled out.
"Master Alf, the one who taught me hand-to-hand combat, he would be so disappointed by my poor performance today," Thorin lamented. He ran a hand through his hair and winced when it snagged in the dishevelled mess. "And look!" he said, distressed, "my clothes are absolutely ruined! And my hair, my beard! If this is what you have to face on a daily basis, then Cousin Kíli, I am not at all envious of your position as the younger sibling to that tyrant."
"He can be a bit of a prat when he gloats," Kíli nodded automatically in the face of Fíli's scowl before furrowing his brows. "So…er –what were we going on about?"
"A defence manoeuvre gone horribly awry," Thorin clarified with a small wince.
"Oh." Kíli frowned. A heartbeat later, "Wait! But I saw – "
"Nothing more than the aftermath of my failed attempt to counter-attack." Thorin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Oh," Kíli repeated. "Um. Right."
"It was…utterly mortifying." Thorin confessed. "I humbly beg Cousin Kíli to keep my shameful display away from my Iron Hills brethren. Goodness knows they have enough things to gossip about. Between you and I, Lord Ginnar can be a bit of a prat. Lady An is notoriously bad for perpetuating any story that passed through her ears and oh, don't even get me started on Lord Jari – "
"Alright, alright! I understand!" Kíli quickly threw his palms up in surrender. "I promise I won't tell anyone, just – stop. No more about Lord Gunnar or Lord Jori - "
"Lord Ginnar and Lord Jari."
"Yes, them! Just, stop. Please." Kíli pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop and I promise I won't say anything, alright?"
Thorin's eyes brightened. "Cousin Kíli is most kind!" he praised, relieved. "I do apologize for the confusion and for the inconvenience I may have caused you, that was not at all what I had intended, believe you me! I do have the tendency to get carried away with my stories, so I've been told. Why, just the other day, Lord Jari – "
"Thank you, Thorin, but we – uh – we're a bit pressed for time." Kíli quickly interjected.
"Well, if that is the case, then I believe we have kept you here with us for far too long!" Thorin clapped his hand in finality. "I apologize again. It's just – I have so much more to say, you understand! I mean – "
"Yes, I understand Thorin but we should really, really be going anyway!" Kíli spoke loudly. "I hope you enjoy your, er –"
"Tour, Cousin Kíli!" Thorin beamed.
"Yes, that. Right." Kíli flickered his gaze from Thorin to Fíli. "I'm sure Fíli is more than happy to hear your stories though!" he added with a mean little smirk.
That little –
"Thanks, Kíli." Fíli's tone was caustic. "Why don't you go and run off into the woods now? It must be nice having so little to do around here."
"You –" Kíli bristled like an angry cat. "No, this isn't worth it." Turning to Thorin, he said stiffly, "I hope you enjoy your stay, Cousin Thorin." With a last dismissive glance towards his brother, Kíli spun around in the opposite direction and stalked off.
"That was a nice story you told us," Tauriel nodded to Thorin, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "You certainly spared no details, Master Dwarf."
"I aim to please, Master Elf," Thorin smirked and dipped his head in polite greeting. "I apologize for not making the introductions earlier. Thorin, son of Dáin, son of Náin. At your service."
"I have heard of you, Thorin Stonehelm of the Iron Hills. Captain Tauriel of Greenwood," she inclined her head gracefully. Turning to Fíli, she repeated the gesture, "Prince Fíli."
Fíli pressed his lips in a thin line and gave a silent tilt of his head in response, just enough to be polite.
"It was a pleasure meeting you," Tauriel shifted her gaze back to Thorin, looking more amused than before. "I suppose I'll leave you to the, uh," she waved meaningfully at their surrounding before strolling gracefully after Kíli.
Fíli blinked and looked around. He then proceeded to groan. Miserably.
It was utter chaos everywhere. Leaves and twigs littered on top of large patches of crushed grass where the fight had gotten vicious. Large, flattened chunks of fruit dotted the once pristine landscape, their fleshy pulp mingled with dark smears of blood red berry juice. The bush Fíli had landed on had seen better days; half of it was missing leaves while the other was left with broken branches, some hanging limply towards the ground, barely attached to the shrub by the clinging thin films of bark.
Bilbo was going to murder Fíli in his sleep. Probably by smothering him with a pillow or something.
The same thought must have dawned on Thorin from the way his grin had quickly slipped off his face. "Ah," he said in a small voice. "How many bottles of wine do you suppose I should send to Master Baggins before he forgives us?"
The answer was apparently twelve, plus a large bouquet of apology flowers.
"I meant to ask you," Fíli whispered to Thorin during dinner after having placated Bilbo's wrath, "what was that elaborate story you were telling Kíli back in the garden?"
Thorin lowered his half-eaten pheasant leg away from his face. "That," he said with flourish, "was manipulation and misdirection sprinkled with a few bald-faced lies. The arsenal of the courtesans." He tore a large bite out of poultry. "And look how splendidly that worked too!" he added after finishing the bite.
Fíli snorted into his goblet.
"Oh, don't think I didn't see that! Your disapproval is practically radiating from your person." Despite Thorin's gentle admonishment, lips curled into a lazy smile. "Besides," he added, spearing a piece of glazed carrot with his fork before popping the piece in his mouth, "you helped me with my story."
"I did," Fíli pulled his goblet away and grimaced in distaste, the bold taste of red wine still heady on his tongue. "But I think I will leave all the talking to you in the future. I do not have the talent to spin tall tales so effortlessly." Nor could he stand the dishonesty of it all, to be frank.
Thorin laughed. "Oh, it is a useful skill to have, one that I have learned painstakingly from the Iron Hills court." He brought another piece of carrot to his mouth, chewing it cautiously. "The court has its fair share of strong personalities," he said between bites, "these personalities also come with huge, but fragile egos. Dealing with them tends to require creativity and a soft touch."
"So…more tall tales and empty words?" Fíli asked, only half-teasing.
"You'd be surprised by how many fights one can avoid through misdirection and flattery," Thorin replied, confident. "If a few compliments here and there can achieve results with minimal effort and trouble, then what is wrong with that?"
He did have a point.
"It's nothing wrong per se," Fíli allowed begrudgingly as he polished off the last of the vegetables on his own plate. "But it's not something I'm used to." He just wasn't the type to manipulate people. He would rather deal with his issues promptly and directly. "I suppose, I'd rather not say anything at all if I had the choice."
Thorin turned to stare at his cousin with surprised eyes. Then, he burst out in delighted laughter. "I forget that Cousin Fili is refreshingly honest. It's charmingly adorable – oh don't be like that." He tutted at Fili's disgruntled frown. "That was a compliment!"
"It certainly doesn't seem like one," Fíli muttered into his plate, flushing a bright pink.
Thorin's smile only widened. "It is," he assured warmly. "I do hope you remain unchanged though. It would be a real shame otherwise."
"I –" Fíli glanced up to see Thorin with a half-smile glancing his lips.
"But, that is neither here nor there!" Thorin propped. "I am much more intrigued by Cousin Kíli's hostility towards me. I would hope that I haven't done anything to warrant this level of aggression from him."
"I doubt anyone knows why he's been behaving so oddly," Fíli growled towards his empty plate. He hasn't understood Kíli's behaviour for months now. The fight was just adding to the ever-expanding space that was separating them, one that Fíli didn't know if it could even be fixed, let alone how to fix it. Frankly, he was starting to wonder if he should even bother. "He's clearly frustrated with me since we aren't on the best of terms at the moment." That was a massive understatement. "You just happened to be here at the wrong place at the wrong time to be a target for his anger. I'm sorry about that."
"Ah," Thorin hummed, draining the last dregs of his goblet. "At least we cooled his temper with that meandering story though."
Fíli gave Thorin a wry smile. "That was all your machination, don't lie. And it seemed like the El – Miss Tauriel knew exactly what was going on."
"Yes, she seemed to have caught on to our dastardly plan," Thorin chuckled. "Certainly something interesting to make note of, but for now, I'll simply leave that alone. Besides, I have something far more interesting to occupy my mind with. I have my own theory to test out."
"Oh?" Fíli placed his empty goblet on the table and thanked the server who appeared to top up his wine. "Like what?"
"I suspect the real reason for Cousin Kíli's ire towards me is something very different and infinitely more interesting." Leaning forward, Thorin cocked his head and peered at the blond, "Oh, you have a little leaf stuck in your hair. Let me." Gently, he reached over and brushed a stray, golden blond lock out of the way, tucking it behind Fíli's ear once he had plucked out the little brown leaf. "There you go! Right as rain. And oh, now would you look at that."
"What?" Fíli threw a glance behind him. He jumped back when he caught sight of his brother glaring at Thorin with dark, murderous intent. "Um, Thorin –"
"Curiouser and curiouser." Thorin smiled, victory gleaming in his eyes, and he said no more about the matter.
The next few days had passed peacefully in spite of the slow build of excitement that had blanketed the mountain over the upcoming midsummer celebration of Lithe. Although traditionally celebrated back in the Shire, King Thorin was more than happy to allow Bilbo to throw a feast if it meant pleasing his Hobbit while easing away his lingering feelings of homesickness. Bilbo had taken his duty as Royal Party Planner with ruthless efficiency; every banner must be hung with utmost perfection, every flower arrangement must be comprised of the brightest of blooms, and every dish leaving the kitchen will not be served unless inspected by himself or one of the volunteers Bilbo had recruited to help.
"A little higher up, lad!" Nori shouted.
Fíli sighed and obediently lifted his corner of the banner as he was told.
Naturally, he was guilt tripped by both Bilbo and Uncle Thorin into helping with the party arrangements along with all the members of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.
"Good! Now Kíli, bring your corner down a bit."
From across the banner, Kíli rolled his eyes and lowered his hold by an inch.
And of course, Kíli had not escaped Bilbo's attention either, nor was it all that surprising that he was paired with his brother to run their errands together.
"Almost perfect, now Fíli –"
"Nori, we've been doing this for the past twenty minutes!" Fíli finally snapped. "The banner is fine as is. Leave it!"
"Fine, fine!" Nori threw his hands up in the air, muttering as he walked away, "The youths of today and their impatience."
Kíli snorted. "I'd believe him if he wasn't clearly trying to skirt away from doing any actual work," he said dryly. He froze as if suddenly remembering who was beside him, and he briskly turned around to begin nailing the banner in tense silence.
Fíli bit back his own sigh of annoyance.
Working with Kíli after their brash attempts at ignoring each other had felt odd, but not because they were constantly stepping on each other's toes. If anything, they worked together in perfect synchronization without speaking with each other, having gotten so used to reading the other's body language to know just what the other needs. It was the familiarity that their teamwork had afforded – the ease in which they operated together – that was throwing Fíli off.
Kíli grunted in annoyance. Fíli casted a quick glance over to him, at the hammering job that he had done, and handed the set of longer iron nails that Kíli had sorely needed. Kíli's eyes flickered to the nails, took them with a grunt, and gave Fíli the hammer that the blond liked for its better grip.
They worked for a few more minutes on their own tasks, silence hanging thick and oppressive between them. Fíli forced himself to focus on the tiny nails in front of him and on the steady noise of hammering with something akin to religious fervour. If he happened to catch a glimpse of his brother's tense shoulders every now and then, well, none's the wiser.
"Fíli, Kíli, are you almost done?" Fíli's attention snapped back to the present as Bilbo walked into the room with a bounce to his steps. He beamed at the sight of the perfectly hung banner. "Well done, lads! Thank you so much for your help. I don't suppose I can trouble you both with a few more errands?"
As if the Dwarves can say no to Bilbo when the little Hobbit was grinning sheepishly up at them, eyes bright and hopeful like that. "Of course, Bilbo. What do you need help with?" Kíli answered with a small smile as Fíli replaced their tools in a nearby toolbox.
"Kíli, can you help Dori with the banners? He insists on doing all the stitching, but you know how gets. He could probably use someone to collect more supplies for him." Bilbo shook his head with fond exasperation. "Fíli, can you come with me? I still have to arrange the tables' centrepieces."
Kíli gave an easy shrug. "Not a problem at all Bilbo. I shall see you in a little while then." With a quick clap to Bilbo's shoulder, the archer strode towards the exit without a second to waste.
Bilbo waved at the archer's back, lightly rocking on his heels until Kíli's heavy footsteps faded away before whirling around to face Fíli, his cheery façade dropping like a stone. "Alright, what is going on between you two?"
Fíli stared pole-axed. "What?"
"That!" Bilbo furrowed his brows and waved at the direction Kíli had taken. "The silent treatment between you and your brother. The obvious effort Kíli went through to avoid looking at you. Is this about your fight with Kíli?"
Fíli groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of course Uncle Thorin had told Bilbo about their fight, that old worrywart. "It's nothing to be concerned about, Bilbo," he replied mulishly.
"It is not nothing." The Hobbit clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Your fights with your brother tend not to last past three days at most." At Fíli's stubborn silence, he sighed. "Fíli , Thorin and I just want to help and we won't be able to if you don't talk to us."
"It's not that I don't want your help," Fíli started, a twinge of guilt twisted in his chest at Bilbo's sad look. "It's just that I don't want to bother anyone else with our issues." Durin knows he's already caused enough trouble with how he handled the suitor business.
Bilbo's frown softened in understanding. "Fíli, you will never be a bother to me or to your uncle, no matter what circumstance you find yourself in." He held his hand out to stop Fíli before he could protest. "I won't force you to tell us anything if you aren't comfortable, especially if you want to sort things out before telling Thorin. However, as your friend, I am more than happy enough to help or to lend an ear." He added with a wry grin, "I promise not to tell your uncle anything you want to hold confidential between us, including any embarrassing secrets involving Lord Thrim."
"Bilbo," Fíli huffed out a laugh, oddly touched. Poor Lord Thrim had become the target of Thorin's ire since Thorin had discovered his courting present to Fíli. For Bilbo to suggest hiding anything related to that wretched Dwarf from Thorin is not an offer lightly made; Thorin's wrath would be legendary if he found out.
"It's stupid," Fíli confessed. He shrugged rather helplessly and looked down at his red stained shoes. The berry war with Thorin had not been kind to his clothes either, despite how much Thorin had complained about Fíli escaping unscathed. "I just can't help but feel like Kíli doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. He won't talk to me, not since – " the battle where he lay, pale and as still as death in his blood-stained cot, recovering from an injury that should have killed him. "I tried to let him know that I was there for him even when he wanted me gone. Fat lot of good that did." Fíli kicked at the ground a little bitterly. "When he got better, he became even more distant and quiet."
Fíli had clung to the routine of daily activities he shared with Kíli with something akin to desperate fervor. He had hoped to draw the archer from his dark moods through the comfort of normalcy that the familiar activities would bring. In retrospect, his plan had started to crumble when Kíli first began refusing to join Fíli for their afternoon strolls through the markets, then refusing to participate in their twice-weekly fishing trips by the river. The weekly hunting expeditions through the forests and their midday luncheons were the next to go. It wasn't until their routine had effectively been whittled down to just breakfasts in the morning that Fíli should have realized how futile his efforts were.
Now, he hardly see his brother except for the occasional glimpse during dinner time.
"I decided I shouldn't tell Kíli about the Suitor Problem because I was trying to spare him from my problems when he was still trying to sort through his own," Fíli confessed quietly, ignoring the lump in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his chest instead. "But apparently, that was the wrong thing to do because he took offense to not being told what was going on. This is incredibly unfair."
Fíli grimaced and shook his head. "It's not as if he was telling me anything either. He has no right to complain or to expect anything from me, not when he runs off and spends all of his time with that, that Elf!"
"Is Kíli trying to woo Miss Tauriel?" Bilbo frowned softly.
Fíli scowled. "That is exactly what that little idiot is trying to do! I tried to tell him that that was beyond moronic. Uncle Thorin will never allow that – Tauriel into the family and frankly, I won't either!"
"Fíli," Bilbo said evenly, "I can understand Thorin's distaste of the Elves. However, I don't understand why you've come to dislike Tauriel so much as well. I thought you hadn't minded her presence when she came to help you and Kíli in Lake-town."
Fíli opened his mouth to deny but found himself frowning instead in awkward silent. Bilbo had a point. Before this whole debacle, Fíli hadn't felt any particular hatred towards Tauriel. Although he couldn't say that he liked her as a friend, he respected her well enough as a skilled warrior and he certainly preferred her over that emotionless, tree-shagging Thranduil or his equally pretentious son.
So what had changed? Aside from being uncomfortably close to his brother, the Elf hasn't really interacted with Fíli enough to incite the sort of irrational, deep-seated anger he was feeling.
Bilbo hedged on in the same soothing tone, "Can you honestly say that you won't react the same if Kíli decided to court a Dwarrowdam or another Dwarf?"
A flash of hot pain flared in Fíli's heart and he quickly reached over to rub his chest. "You think I'm taking my frustration towards Kíli out on Tauriel, don't you?" he said, suddenly ashamed.
"I think that's certainly one reason to explain why you're reacting to Tauriel in such a volatile manner." The look Bilbo gave him was full of understanding. "I also think that you're frustrated with yourself for not being able to help Kíli. Kíli has been struggling with his own problems after the battle but since Tauriel appeared, he's become much more sociable." At Fíli's crumpled expression, Bilbo sighed and gently patted the Dwarf on the shoulder. "You are being incredibly unfair to yourself you know. You've done all that you could to help."
The stinging in Fíli's eyes and the surge of hurt and frustration came back with such a vengeance that he had to look away least he embarrassed himself. He tightened his arms around his chest, grounding himself in the weight of his fingers pressing into his biceps. "Apparently, my best isn't good enough," he managed to force out.
"Oh, come here, my dear." Fíli found himself pulled into a tight, welcoming hug against the soft warmth that was Bilbo Baggins. He immediately sagged against the Hobbit, his nose buried into the Hobbit's sweet smelling russet curls and his eyes scrunched closed to chase away that damnable stinging sensation that just wouldn't go away.
"Nobody expects you to solve all of Kíli's problem," came Bilbo's muffled voice somewhere in the vicinity of Fíli's chest. "I doubt Kíli himself expect you to solve all of his problems."
"It's not about what Kíli expects." Fíli tugged Bilbo closer still. "It's about what I should be doing."
Bilbo kept quiet but Fíli found himself at a loss for words. He didn't know how to explain what having Kíli by his side meant, what it was like to be known as Fíli and Kíli, never one without the other. He had so much pride in knowing that he was there for his brother and that he'd always be there. How can he begin to describe the crushing, gutted feeling for failing something so vital?
How can he describe what it was like only having Kíli in his life when their mother, heartbroken and bitter with grief, kept herself away from them to escape the memories of her dead husband? How can he explain the vital role Kíli played as his sole source of courage when Uncle Thorin, saddled with the task to rebuild their dying kingdom, could not spare the time or energy to soothe Fíli's fears?
As if sensing his turmoil, Bilbo cooed under his breath and ran his hand over Fíli's tense back in a steady, soothing motion. "Fíli," he murmured, "I know how much you love your brother. There is no doubt in my mind that you've done everything in your power to be supportive. Sometimes, the most you can do is hold your hand out and hope that the other person takes it."
Bilbo pulled back enough to gently press his forehead against Fíli's, his hands lightly grasping at the Dwarf's arms. "You may be angry and frustrated with each other now, but I know that something like this is not enough to keep you two apart." The corner of his lips quirked and he added with a touch of exasperation, "Soon enough, you'll be back to being Fíli and Kíli, twin terrors of Erebor. Woe betides those who cross either of you."
Fondness flooded through Fíli as warm as the morning sun and he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeves, chuckling. Leave it to Bilbo to see to the heart of the matter. He never stood a chance at hiding anything from the perceptive Hobbit, did he? "I just wish I know what I can do right now."
"Well, that's simple." Bilbo stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back. "You can start with an apology. In the meantime, I'll go have a talk with that stubborn brother of yours. How does that sound?"
Fíli's look of gratitude was answer enough.
Whatever wizardry Bilbo had used seemed to have cooled off some of Kíli's residual anger from the fight. Although they still barely speak to each other, the bitter tension hanging over them have dissipated somewhat. Instead, an awkward sort silence, peppered with fleeting looks and chagrined frowns, filled the spaces between them.
It was an improvement, if one could call it that.
Now if only Fíli could muster the courage to follow through with Bilbo's suggestion.
"Just apologize to him, you coward," Fíli mumbled from his seat at the high table as he fidgeted with the crown of blue hydrangeas resting over his brow. His eyes scanned over the joyful Dwarves hovering over the food tables and the laughing Elves and Men crowding the dance floor, until he spotted the unmistakable head of messy brown locks crowned with a ring of daisies.
He quickly looked away before his little brother caught him staring.
Bilbo's celebration was a success for the most part. Through his tender care for all green living things and through the tyrannical way he had ordered the Company of Thorin Oakenshield about, Bilbo had transformed the Great Hall into a lush garden worthy of envy. Delicate silk banners, hand-stitched (painfully by poor Dori and Ori) with colourful depictions of blooming roses, lilies, lilacs and dahlias, trailed from the high arched ceiling to the floor from all four corners of the hall. Green garlands of ivy and boxwood (painstakingly assembled by the brothers Ur) wrapped around and draped between the pillars bracing the room. Countless potted chrysanthemums, gardenias, and even more roses lined the four walls (Nori had complained loudly about having to lug that many pots in place). The tables were also decorated with large flowering centerpieces, each of them individually designed by Bilbo (and constructed by whichever unfortunate Dwarf that caught his attention).
The venue was perfect, the music was merry, and the food was delicious (thanks to the efforts of Bombur, who was the only one who happily did as he was told). For all intent and purposes, everything should be perfect.
Fíli looked away from his brother in time to see yet another Dwarf freeze mid-step towards him before pivoting around and fleeing for his life. Silently, Fíli turned to his dark, glowering uncle beside him with a raised brow. "Uncle, really now."
"He was looking at you with ill intent," Thorin growled out without letting off his death glare at the retreating Dwarf until the poor bastard had scurried out of sight. His eyes immediately snapped to poor Lord Thrim, who had been milling nearby.
The old Dwarf went pale and dropped his mug with a squeak.
Fíli rolled his eyes and reached for his own mug of mead on the table in front of him. The party would have been a rousing success if it weren't for Thorin's open hostility towards all the Dwarves he saw as a threat to his blond nephew, Fíli's own problems with his brother not withstanding.
Bilbo, brave, sweet Bilbo, had tried to calm Thorin's temper earlier in the evening, first with soft, honeyed words, then with the king's favourite food by the platter, and then with great tanks of ale. When even alcohol could not distract Thorin from his stubborn anger, (the king had simply accepted the mug with a grunt before continuing to glare at a cowering Lord Thrim over the rim of his cup), the Hobbit rolled his eyes, threw his hands in the air and trudged away to find better company.
Which meant Fíli was left sitting awkwardly at the head table next to his uncle.
Fantastic.
Fíli took another deep sip from his mug to drown out his sigh. Bilbo had managed to abscond a large glass of wine and was busy ranting to Balin, judging by the Hobbit's fierce frown and the wild, careless way he was motioning with the full glass in hand. Balin managed to artfully dodge the spilled droplets while wearing a look of utmost sympathy.
Fíli's gaze fell back to his brother and scowled deeply. Kíli had just spotted Tauriel and his face positively lit up with joy. Just because Fíli knew that his anger towards Tauriel was irrational, it didn't mean he could stop himself from reacting the way he did.
"I had hoped that the fight would have subsided by now."
Fíli jerked a little in surprise at the unexpected, gruff comment. He turned to Thorin, "Pardon me?"
"Your argument with your brother." Thorin threw a slight nod in Kíli's general direction and continued with a deep frown on his face, "I only came to realize that you have not told him about your suitors from the violent way he reacted to the news."
Fíli had suspected as much already. Why was Thorin bringing this up?
"Of course," Thorin grimaced and the anger in his face bled away into something akin to chagrin to Fíli's mounting surprise, "I should have realized what was going on in the first place, with both the suitors issues and your action to keep Kíli shielded. I have been remiss in my duty as your uncle."
Fíli's eyes slowly widened as the words sank in. Was his uncle trying to apologize?
"Uncle, it wasn't your fault!" Fíli stammered. He quickly plonked his mug back on the table and turned to his uncle. He was the absolute worst nephew in Middle-Earth. Ever since the Battle, Uncle Thorin has been so quick to blame himself over every little bit of failure, and here Fíli was contributing to that. "It's Kíli and I who are at fault here! I was the one who chose not to tell Kíli and we – " Fíli winced, "we could've done better to resolve this issue afterwards."
Thorin made a frustrated noise. "And if I had noticed that you were being courted in the first place, this situation would not have progressed to the point where you have stacks of presents that touched the ceiling!"
Oh for the love of – "It was just the one pile and it barely skimmed the ceiling!" Fíli pinched the bridge of his nose. "And besides, how could you have known when I was trying my hardest to hide this from you?"
Thorin just pressed his lips together into a thin line, defiant. Stubborn old Dwarf. At this rate, neither of them was going to concede.
"In any case, I hope this disagreement would not last long," Thorin added gruffly. He turned his sombre gaze back to the throng of partygoers. "It is disconcerting to see the two of you apart."
From the corner of his eyes, Fíli saw a grinning Kíli beckoning a laughing Tauriel to the dance floor. "We're working on it."
Although speaking of Kíli – "I'm surprised that you're finding all this alright," Fíli added, gesturing towards his brother and Tauriel.
Thorin's pinched expression was telling enough. "Kíli's friendship with the Elf is…unusual, but I shall let it pass so long as her tree-shagging king honours the treaty." Thorin forced out rather painfully.
"Friendship?" Fíli blinked. "That's not –"
"Cousin Fíli!"
Fíli turned to see his exuberant cousin meander his way to the high tables, cheeks slightly flushed from the heat of the room and the mead he undoubtedly had been consuming. The Dwarf greeted the king with a slightly tipsier bow than usual, before turning his attention back to the blond. "Just the Dwarf I have been looking for!"
Young Thorin was impeccably dressed as usual; his hair and beard were styled with intricate braids, each of them held together by emerald-studded silver beads. His velvet forest green jacket, decorated with silver embroidery and fine silver buttons, fitted snugly over his chest and shoulders. The bottom part of the jacket fell slightly below his waist, leaving the length of his dark trousers uncovered. Silver embroidered boots, polished until gleaming, finished the look.
"What is it that you want now, Thorin?" Fíli asked with a long-suffering smile. It really shouldn't surprise Fíli that Thorin would seize any chance that he can get to dress up. His time spent with Thorin had taught him that the younger Dwarf was surprisingly vain.
"Why, I am here to greet my dear cousin, whom I haven't seen since the start of the party! I would love nothing more than to catch up!"
Fíli gave Thorin a disbelieving look.
"I may or may not also be attempting to escape from Lady Gunnold's incessant blathering." Thorin added unflinchingly. He leaned in with a cheeky grin, "I was also hoping you'd save this poor Dwarf from having to sit through another round of riveting gossip about Lord Jari's hideous necklace." He turned to the amused King, "I hope your Majesty won't mind me borrowing Fíli for a minute."
Fíli did not miss his uncle's soft huff of laughter from beside him. "Carry on," King Thorin waived a hand at the younger Dwarf, only to suddenly tense up. Bilbo was stomping over with a determined look on his face. It was the same look that he wore just before dragging Thorin into a round of dancing, and Mahal damn it, Thorin was going to like it.
"On second thought," Cousin Thorin said, his eyes tracking Bilbo's movement. "I don't suppose you would mind joining me in hiding elsewhere, Cousin?"
"Not at all," Fíli said as he quickly pushed himself off his seat. The inkling of guilt was not strong enough to keep him from staying despite his uncle's hissed plea to 'Get back here, don't leave me alone with him!'
But just in case if Uncle Thorin genuinely needed help though – He gestured to Dwalin, who was standing guard from across the room.
Dwalin glanced at the King, at Bilbo, and shook his head vehemently.
Well, at least he tried.
Beside Fíli, Thorin chuckled. "Smart Dwarf. He's got a good sense of self-preservation!"
Fíli snorted. "Dwalin will probably out live us all. Where are we going anyway?"
"I hope you don't mind a bit of fresh air. I found the perfect balcony spot when I was exploring earlier this month." Thorin flashed a quick grin over his shoulder. "It offers a fantastic view of the East. More importantly, it is located close to the buffet table, and far, far away from Lady Gunnold."
"It is important to have priorities in life," Fíli nodded solemnly.
Just as Thorin described, the balcony was blissfully empty save for the few torches casting their amber glow along the wall in the dark of the night. Fíli leaned over the railing, palms brushing against smooth, weathered stone, and breathed in the cool, crisp mountain air. The familiar scent of pine trees tickled his nose, and he felt his muscles relax under the perfect tranquility that had surrounded him. Back when he lived in the Blue Mountains, the window in his old room faced a lush, expansive evergreen forest. The occasional breeze would send the delicate smell of fresh pine into his room, and the smell would coat the sheets of his bed, his pillow, and his clothes.
He always found himself sleeping easier during windy nights.
"You can see home from here."
Blinking out of his reverie, Fíli turned towards a grinning Thorin.
"You see that dark, jagged-looking bit in the distance?" Thorin pointed towards the horizon. "You have to squint a little to make it out, but that right there is the Iron Hills. It's odd but I think I am starting to miss it, just a little.
What's even more strange is that I find myself missing the most mundane things," Thorin continued, chuckling. "I miss my own bed, and I miss my daily routines. I miss having time to read in the mornings, knowing that the courtiers won't notice whenever I am not present."
"I thought you liked being around the courtiers," Fíli said as he leaned back against the railing. Thorin always seemed so composed and playful when dancing around the other lords and ladies. It puts Fíli's awkward fumbling to shame.
Thorin shrugged. "I don't hate it, and I know I am good at handling myself in social situations. I do find this to be a tad exhausting after a while though."
Fíli supposed that Thorin had a point. He couldn't imagine what it would be like being surrounded by a flock of gossiping Dwarves day in and day out, constantly having to be on the lookout for veiled barbs and hidden motives. He couldn't imagine having to learn how to strike with artful lies, to feign with false flattery, to parry with disguised insults – it all sounded like such a pointless waste of energy.
"I'm assuming that the Iron Hills courtiers are, er, less…you know? Lively?" Fíli asked.
"They are certainly are. In their defence, having the opportunity to spend time in Erebor in the presence of Thorin Oakenshield and his company would make any Dwarf lively." Thorin paused and grimaced. "I stand corrected - most Dwarves are less lively. Lady Gunnold and Lord Jari's boisterous nature remain the same as always, unfortunately."
Fíli winced. "I've had the misfortunate of witnessing Lady Gunnold's boisterous nature in the form of her courting gift."
"Did she write you one of her love stories?"
"How did you – "
"She does that. It's one of her hobbies," Thorin said rather impatiently. "But more importantly, was the one she sent you any good? How long was it? Which characters did she use?"
Fíli looked at Thorin suspiciously. "I haven't read it past the first paragraph, but I've been told that it featured myself and the Lady in the story. Why are you so curious anyhow?"
"Oh, um," Thorin coughed uncomfortably into his fist. "It's just, I've been told by someone that her writing makes for a decent read, and all."
"Oh? How so?"
"Something to do with her writing prose, her ability to craft wonderfully complex worlds in her story, her well-fleshed plots, her well-timed humour, her excellent characterization of – why are you looking at me like that?"
"You seem oddly knowledgeable," Fíli said, biting back his smile. "Why Thorin, if I were to guess, I'd say you're a fan of her love stories?"
Fíli's grin grew at the stubborn, embarrassed silence.
"You are a fan!" Fíli crowed. "Is that what you meant by your morning reading time? So that you can indulge in her work?"
"There is nothing wrong with liking her work!" Thorin defended, but Fíli noticed that he wasn't denying Fíli's accusations either. "So what if I like my reading material to be light-hearted?"
"There is certainly nothing wrong with that, but your love of romantic comedies explains your obsession with 'The Eternal Love of Fulla and Buri'! It explains so much!"
"'Fulla and Buri' is a Dwarven masterpiece as I have said countless times! It is a gem, loved by generations of – "
"Young adolescent Dwarves!" Fíli laughed mercilessly.
"It is loved by many different kinds of Dwarves, Dwarves of all ages!"
"It is loved by young adolescent Dwarves who like to fawn over the cool, stoic beauty that is Buri, whose skin sparkled like, like diamonds!" Fíli guffawed.
"I am never telling you anything ever again," Thorin muttered under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are cruel and you hate good literature. You are the worst."
It took a good few solid minutes before Fíli could catch his breath, and by the time he could control the last of his laughter, Thorin had hunched over in an obvious sulk with his back towards Fíli.
"Oh, come now, I didn't mean any harm." Fíli prodded a finger against his cousin's shoulder blade, retreating quickly when his cousin shirked off his touch. "If it makes you feel better, you're the only one besides Kíli to know about our, er, misadventure with the Hobbit children."
Thorin, the little bastard that he was, brightened up at the reminder.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Thorin puffed out his chest a little. "I suppose I can consider this a fair trade – you know one of my more, er, peculiar habits while I know the horrible embarrassment you went through while looking for Master Bilbo's home. Fair's fair."
Fíli rolled his eyes. Let it be known that his cousin's pride is definitely a weakness. "Peculiar habits. Is that what they call embarrassing hobbies nowadays?" Ignoring his cousin's squawk of outrage, he straightened up from his lean on the balcony railing and brushed off any residual dust on his body. "We can discuss more about your obsession later. I, for one, want to take advantage of that food table. We should be safe to venture back inside now that Bilbo has gotten his way."
He further ignored his cousin's quiet grumbling of "It is not an obsession!" and strode inside, Thorin scrambling behind him.
The party was finally in full swing. Music and raucous laughter filled the air as Dwarves, Elves and Men took to the center of the Hall, dancing to a familiar, jaunty tune that was distinctively Hobbit-ish. Fíli smiled softly when he finally caught sight of his uncle and Bilbo among the throng of dancing partygoers. It seemed like Thorin had finally decided to join in the merrymaking from the delighted laughter bubbling out of Bilbo that could be heard above the noise.
"Durin's beard, here comes Lady Gunnold." Thorin hissed. "We should make a run for it!"
"Too late for that," Fíli had just enough time to hiss back before the Lady flounced over, her large, red, velvet gown swaying as she moved.
"My Lord Thorin and – oh, Your Highness!" she gushed and curtsied low, so low in fact, that Fíli caught more than an eyeful of her full cleavage and ample bosom, and the sultry look she sent him.
He quickly averted his gaze and barely suppressed a full-bodied shudder.
"Lady Gunnold, I see that you've found me," Thorin replied, bright and cheery. He stepped forward and discretely nudged Fíli behind him. "I hope you don't mind if we can continue our conversation at another time? Cousin Fíli and I were feeling a bit peckish and –"
"Why, what a coincidence! I was about to head to the buffet myself! Shall we?" Lady Gunnold interrupted. She held up her hand, her palm facing towards the floor, and looked at Fíli expectantly.
Thorin stepped forward, took her hand in his and kissed the back of it in a practiced motion. "It would be my pleasure! This way, if you please." He threw a wink at Fíli when the Lady was not looking.
Fíli took back every single mean thought he had of his cousin.
"It is my absolute pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, your Highness!" she said, twisting around to look at Fíli who was trailing behind them. If it weren't for Thorin forcibly guiding her forward, she would have lunged for the blond. "I have been wishing for an opportunity to speak to you!"
"Er – thanks?"
"I have heard the songs of your heroic deeds sung a hundred times, and I never cease to be amazed at the amount of bravery you've shown at recapturing Erebor. Oh bravo!"
"I – er –"
"You must tell me how Smaug –"
"My dear Lady," Thorin cut in, "Let us talk about something less dreary than that cursed beast, something like the buffet. And oh, would you look at there, we've reached the buffet table!" He unceremoniously dropped his hold on Gunnold. "Please excuse me and my cousin –"
"Your Highness!" came another voice. Fíli did not manage to hide his groan of despair as three other Dwarrowdams elbowed their way in front of him.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance! I am – "
"Your Highness, I was wondering if you could honour me with a –"
"Your Highness, I have so many questions to ask! How do you like your tea? Do you like written works? What is your favourite time of the day?"
"Excuse me," Lady Gunnold said coldly, and Fíli jumped a little having briefly forgotten about her. "I believe I was speaking with His Highness first. One must remember to retain a level of," she sniffed, "decorum. Least one risks giving off the wrong impression."
"Lady Gunnold, I thank you for your kind advice," one of the Dwarrodam – a tall brunette with a handsome face – sneered out. "I am humbled by the generous way you drop pearls of wisdom even when unprompted."
The other two Dwarrodams twittered in laughter, high and mocking.
"I must admit that my generous nature is one of my flaws, but only because I have the capacity to be generous," Lady Gunnold countered, unfazed. "I shall, however, endeavour to reign in my generosity to risk offending those that have…less of a fortune than I."
Thorin hedged closer to Fíli. "Now would be a good time to run," he muttered, and Fíli gave a small nod. He was going to stop the petty squabbling before it can ruin the party that Bilbo had worked so hard on.
"Actually, I think that it's about time for me to retire for the night," he called out. He placed his hands behind his back to disguise the way he had balled up his fists in anger. They were so disgustingly petty. How could Thorin stand them? "Please enjoy the rest of the evening and it is a pleasure to have met all of you."
With a curt tip of his head, he spun around and strolled forward –
Only to be intercepted by a small flock of advancing Dwarves.
"Really?! Oh for the love of – " He pivoted left, Thorin following close behind him, and scanned the room frantically for the guards, for Dwalin, for anyone and where in Middle Earth did everyone disappear off to?
There! Blessed, dependant Dwalin was leaning against his post, seemingly in deep conversation with a blushing Ori beside him.
"Dwalin!" he managed to call out just before –
"Your Highness! I see that you've spoken to Lady Gunnold, but I would like you to ignore her preposition. I have always admired you!" an older, podgier Dwarf said in a booming voice. Thorin immediately jumped in front of Fíli. "I understand that you've returned my gift. Was it not to your liking? I can do better!"
"Don't listen to that bloody idiot," a new Dwarf forcefully hauled the older Dwarf behind him. "Your Highness, I can provide infinitely more than any other Dwarf in this establishment. What is your heart's desire? I will grant it!"
"Sod off, Loni, nobody is interested in your lies!" came a random cry from one of the Dwarves stalking towards Fíli from the right.
"Your Highness!" a new Dwarf managed to shuffle forward. Fíli's chest tightened from all the oncoming Dwarves, waves and waves of them with sinister hunger in their eyes like
the endless stream of Orcs and Goblins that were rushing down the mountain. Their bellowing cries echoed in the valley as they chant for blood, for carnage, for death and destruction, for King Thorin's head. Above them, war bats swarmed the skies, pitching the battlefield in darkness, and their screeches adding to the cacophony of sounds, of clanging weapons as the front line surged forward against the Orcs to fight a losing battle.
Oh Mahal, they were all going to die, they were going to die, they were going to –
"Cousin Fíli!"
Fíli blinked, and before him stood Thorin with his back towards him, his arms spread wide to keep any Dwarves from stepping too close.
"When I say run, do it." Thorin gritted out.
"But –"
The sound of chanting Orcs, no they are Dwarves, the battle is over, hit him at once:
"Please accept this gift from this humble Dwarf! You will make me –"
"Oy! If he's giving gifts, then I want to as well!"
"I thought we had a pact against gift-giving!"
"Well clearly, nobody is following that anymore. All Dwarves for themselves!"
"Your Highness!"
"Prince Fíli!"
"My Prince! I am your greatest admirer!"
"Fíli!" came an order, loud and clear, "Run!"
And Fíli bolted.
He dove under the buffet table, dimly registering Dwalin and his guards storming forward to help Young Thorin, and rolled out from the other side, jumping to his feet and sprinting away as fast as he could. Distantly, he heard an angry roar – Uncle Thorin, his mind supplied – but he brushed it aside, focusing on zigzagging past another flock of eager Dwarves. He needed to find the exit. Where was the bloody exit?
A hand grabbed his left arm and he instinctively let his right fist fly. He cursed when his fist met empty air, the momentum of his swing sending him careening towards the person holding him. Another hand gripped him on his shoulder to stop him from crashing painfully into the person.
"Let me go!" he thrashed against the hold. "Let me go!"
"Fíli! Fíli! Calm down, it's me!"
"I – " the voice was achingly familiar. "Kíli?"
Slowly, the image of his brother focused in front of him. Kíli looked dishevelled; his daisy crown was missing and his hair was in complete disarray. His face was twisted with worry.
"Kíli?" Fíli croaked out again.
The archer gave him a shaky smile. His tight grip on Fíli lessened slightly. "That's right, it's me, Fíli. I have you, Fee. You're safe, now. Do you hear me?"
At Fíli's minute nod, Kíli relaxed his grip some more. "Good," he breathed, "Good. Now, let's find ourselves an escape route. How does that sound?"
Fíli felt himself being tucked tightly against his brother's left side as Kíli threw a protective arm over his shoulders. Step by step, he felt himself being steered to the exit by Kíli, who would sometimes pause to bark muffled orders at nearby soldiers to fortify their defence. Fíli couldn't really tell when they had managed to leave the banquet hall, or travel back to the Royal Wing. He was only focused on putting each foot forward at the soft flutter of his brother's heartbeat.
Hadn't he done something similar before? When he was out in the battlefield and
Kíli was bleeding. The arrow had managed to lodge in Kíli's chest and down he went with a choked, wet gurgle rising to his throat. But in his own stupidity to rush over to help his little brother, Thorin had tackled him to the ground and took a sword blow to the back to protect him. He remembered pulling himself from under his uncle, his motion clumsy from the slickness of the blood soaked ground beneath him. Somehow though, he managed to half carry his uncle to safety before doubling back for his brother, but at the time, all he could focus on was placing one foot in front of the other carefully so he wouldn't jostle the precious people he was carrying.
"We're back," Kíli murmured, and since when did Kíli ever murmur, let alone to Fíli of all people? "Let us get out of these fineries, shall we?"
Gently, Kíli lifted the hydrangea crown off of his head - Huh, the crown had stayed on his head all this time. How peculiar – and placed it on what Fíli recognized as their breakfast table. When the archer reached to unbutton the first set of buttons on Fíli's tunic, Fíli gripped his brother's hands to stop him.
"I – I can do this," he uttered, and reached for the buttons with shaking hands – have they always been shaking?
"Fíli, let me help. Mahal, you're still shaking like a leaf."
"I," Fíli choked. He was an embarrassment. Not only had he inconvenienced everyone both during the Battle and with the Suitor Problem, he had dragged his cousin Thorin into the fray by having the Dwarf effectively act as his second bodyguard just now. He had to rely on his brother to save his skin, the very same brother he had spurned by being irrational and by being a complete asshole just because he couldn't handle his weird separation anxieties from said brother. Worst still, he hadn't figured out what was bothering Kíli. Instead, it was Kíli who was the one comforting him now.
He couldn't handle his own affairs, he couldn't help his little brother, and now, he couldn't even unbutton his own fucking tunic. And he was supposed to be the Crown Prince of Erebor.
What a colossal joke. He was a colossal joke.
"I'm the worst," Fíli managed to choke out as realization hit. His eyes were stinging something awful, and that lump in his throat had only gotten bigger. Damn it. "I'm the absolute worst." He looked up at Kíli with watering eyes, and breathed out, "I'm so, so sorry, Kee."
Fíli heard a small wounded sound that his brother made right before he was pulled to Kíli's chest in a bone-crushing hug. And because he was pathetic on top of being the worst, all he could do was bury his face into his brother's familiar warmth as he kept shaking, and shaking.
"You are not the worst, and you have nothing to apologize for, Fee," he heard Kíli grit out, but with reverence. "You are not the worst, and I will kill anyone who makes you think that. You are not the worst."
Fíli shut his eyes and wished he could believe those words.