Elrond's study is a well-appointed room with large windows that take up the entire southwest wall. The two central windows are, in fact, a wide double door that leads to a spacious balcony equipped with wooden chairs and silk cushions. The curtains, in what seems to be the way of this elvish haven, are a diaphanous fabric in pale yellow and white that flutters in the breeze that flits through the open doors. The desk is of a pale, polished wood, carved with climbing vines of ivy and periwinkle and there are several bookcases along one wall that appear to be made of the same wood. Two comfortable chairs have been placed in front of the large fireplace opposite and several murals depicting events long passed into story and remembered only by the elves are pictured there. It is an inviting room, or it would be were one not there awaiting the master's displeasure.
The twins lounge almost indolently in the chairs in front of the fireplace, though it is unlit on this warm day in early summer, and they are the very picture of nonchalant relaxation as they wait for their father. This must be something they have done uncounted numbers of times in the past and Fíli wishes he could be as easy about it as they apparently are. Thorin is going to be furious he has been eavesdropping, there has to be a reason he was left out of it after all, and he has seen enough of his uncle's anger over the years to know that this is something he is not looking forward to having his new friends see. The twins try to convince him that their father's anger is nothing to worry about, obviously misunderstanding the source of his concern, as they also assure him that it takes far more than being caught eavesdropping, even on a meeting as important as this one, to truly outrage Elrond after the millennia he has lived. Fíli doesn't quite believe it, but only because Thor's anger has always burned as hot as dragon fire and is just as easy to ignite.
"Thorin will not blame you," Elrohir says when it becomes clear that Fíli's agitation is not subsiding. "He will be angry, of course, it would be odd were he not, but he will know where the fault lies. We could just as easily have left you to your lonely and aimless wandering."
"I could have said no," Fíli replies.
"Indeed," Thorin's voice sounds from the door, "and you should have declined." All three occupants of the room turn to see Elrond and Thorin enter the study. The elf's face is enviably blank, though Fíli thinks he sees a slight tick in the corner of one eye. "I raised you better than that, lad," he adds, and Fíli bows his head.
"As I did my children, Thorin," the elf lord points out. "However, it would seem my only success was my daughter. We have spoken of this before, Elladan, Elrohir," the twins look down briefly, apparently contrite. Fíli doesn't know them well, but he doubts they are actually apologetic. Elrond likely feels the same because he sighs and goes to his desk.
"I'm sorry," Fíli mutters.
"I know," Thorin sighs. "I had thought you would have learnt from your last experience of listening to conversations not meant for you. Dare I hope you had only just begun to listen?"
"My sons?" Elrond looks at the twins. "Though it is rather too much to hope as far as you are concerned."
"We were there from the beginning," Elrohir admits. "Fíli joined us some time after luncheon yesterday." Thorin sighs. "It was at our invitation," the elf continues, "he had been left to his own devices and we saw little harm in it since all of his companions were there."
"The hobbit was not," Elladan comments, although the addition isn't remotely helpful. "She was with Arwen and her companions the last two days. Honestly, Thorin, given all we know of you it comes as a surprise that you would leave one so connected to you as a nephew to his own devices." Fíli has no idea where he came across that piece of information, and nor is he about to ask, the glower on Thorin's face enough to keep him silent.
"Elladan!" Elrond hisses, his tone warning and he lapses into their own tongue in order to chastise both of his sons. The twins' reply is more subdued, and they gesture to Fíli and Thorin both before subsiding as quickly as the discussion had begun with a mutter of something that might be an apology. This time they do sound contrite. "I believe, mellon nin," Elrond turns to Thorin, "that you need to have a long overdue conversation with young Fíli. Please, make use of the room, you shall not be disturbed here." He gestures sharply to his sons who follow with only brief commiserating glances in Fíli's direction. Then he is alone with the one he had called 'Uncle Thor' for all of his life and the silence is crushing.
"Sit, Fíli," Thorin orders, and this is Thorin, not his uncle. Fíli obeys and they sit in silence that seems to grow into an almost impossible chasm until Thorin sighs. "No matter how many times I have had this conversation over the course of my long life it has never become any easier."
"You aren't really my uncle, are you?" Fíli asks softly, looking at his hands.
"Our relationship runs a little bit deeper than that, and is far more complicated," Thorin leans back in his chair. "Your mother was not my sister. I knew her all her life, as I knew her father and his father back to the time of Durin VI."
"That's impossible!" Fíli exclaims. "No dwarf could live that long."
"If only that were true," Thorin sighs, although a rueful smile dances about his lips. If his words are the truth he must have heard such a reaction dozens of times. "If only I had the simplicity of an existence that would last a little less than three centuries, or the ease of rebirth as Durin is blessed with, though he always argued that it had more drawbacks than one might think." He chuckles, as though reliving a fond memory and it makes Fíli consider the truth of it all. Durin VI had a second son, after all, although he is rarely mentioned in stories or histories and he had no heir.
"How have you lived so long?" Fíli asks.
"Skill in battle," Thorins huffs, "and the simple fact that Mahal, for reasons I cannot tell you, wills it to be so." He holds up a hand when it looks like Fíli might object. "One day, madtubirzul, I swear I will tell you everything. What little you know now is enough to put you in danger, I have ever sought to keep you safe. I failed Kíli, I failed Dís and I failed Víli. I have no desire to fail you as well. Your parents knew the truth, all of it, as you one day shall."
"But-"
"Fíli," Thorin cuts him off. "Allow me to finish before you ask your questions." He nods and leans back in anxious silence. "The ancestor of yours I knew was an orphaned lad, his father was as a brother, but that lad alone was the only one of his family to escape Khazad-dûm. He was not grown enough to be left on his own, but old enough and cherished enough by his family that I could never be anything other than Uncle to him. His child grew up calling me 'Uncle', as did the next and the next. To your family I have ever been 'Uncle'. When your parents were killed I knew not if it had been by design or as a result of bad luck, so I took you and I took Kíli and I hid us in Bree where I hoped we would be safe."
"But we weren't," Fíli whispers. "The Fell Winter came."
"I have achieved the mastery of many things in my long life, Fíli," Thorin smiles but it is a brittle thing, "the control of the weather, however, escapes me as thoroughly as it does Gandalf. Now," he leans forward, "has this explanation laid to rest concerns raised by conclusions drawn from overheard conversations?"
Fíli remains silent as he thinks, gaze averted as he stares at the empty grate in the fireplace, devoid of even the ashes of the last fire of spring. Does this change anything, he muses while the memories of his life in Bree with Thor flicker through his mind. If anything, Thorin's bond with Fíli's family runs deeper than anything he can comprehend or possibly imagine. Fíli knows his own grief from Kíli's loss, he cannot imagine living and loving knowing that such loss is inevitable and knowing that he would have to watch those he cares about whither and die before his eyes. He would turn from it, run from it, rather than experience that pain.
"Yes, Uncle," Fíli mutters, surprised Thorin hasn't taken him to task for eavesdropping.
"You understand that I have not told you everything and that my secrets are to protect you?" Fíli nods. "Good. If you wish to speak of it with the others, of course, they will answer what questions you have that they can, but none of them know all of it. I have known Dwalin, Balin and Frerin all of their lives. Frerin is, in fact, a kinsman of yours, lad."
"Really?" Fíli perks up at that, the feeling of being so adrift without kin dissipating slightly with this news.
"Indeed, his mother was your Grandfather Arli's sister," Thorin smiles. "It was my intent to introduce you after we had completed our quest, but I see no reason we may not do so now, especially as his daughter and her mother's brothers and cousin will also be joining us. A dwarrowdam your own age is far more appropriate company than a pair of mischievous elves." Fíli flushes but follows quickly when Throin stands and gestures for him to do the same. "Oh, and Fíli," he adds, "I will not be so lenient the next time you are found somewhere you ought not to be. It is only so this time because I should have ensured someone was with you."
"I understand, Uncle Thorin," Fíli replies. The name feels strange on his tongue, but his uncle's eyes light up at this small sign of his acceptance.
Thorin leads him through the winding corridors, his heavy boots loud upon the ancient wooden floors that have been worn smooth by centuries of feet. How many times have they been replaced, Fíli wonders absently. Thorin is silent as they walk and even though the silence between them the last few days has been difficult and heavy with the weight of secrets and questions this one is comfortable and familiar. Some secrets are still there, Thorin has readily admitted that he hasn't told Fíli everything and as much as that chafes, as much as Fíli wants to argue that he can take care of himself and that he isn't a child any longer he knows that it will fall upon deaf ears. He also knows that this is neither the time nor the place and that as much as he insists that he has the skills needed to defend himself there will always be the possibility that he will meet someone not just better than he is, but who is better than Thorin too.
The guest quarters Thorin takes them to aren't far from where Fíli and his party have been staying. Rough voices rumble from behind the closed doors, the comforting sound of dwarrow gathered together and enjoying themselves. The noise increases when Thorin opens the door and Fíli follows with steps that are far more confident than he feels into a large common room filled with two or three dozen dwarrow. Eyes turn on them for a moment, conversation lulling for those few seconds before resuming once all present assure themselves that this is no threat.
"You found him," Dwalin ambles over, tankard in hand and more relaxed than Fíli has seen him in weeks. "Getting into things he shouldn't have been?"
"Much like his mother used to," Thorin sighs. Dwalin laughs and claps him on the shoulder.
"He had to inherit something from her," he chuckles. "Are you going to introduce him to Frerin?"
"It is time," Thorin shrugs, "and easier done now than when we depart."
"Or when we inform the hobbit of her fate," the other adds. "He's on the balcony with his daughter," Dwalin informs them, then, "they will be parted for some time and he feels it."
"As we all would," Thorin agrees with a glance at Fíli. Then he begins to weave his way through the groups of chattering dwarrow. In one corner Fíli spots Nori with several others and though he cannot hear the clacking of the dice he can see the toss and make out his friend's triumphant grin.
"Thorin," Frerin nods as they step through the door together. "Your business with Elrond is resolved?"
"As satisfactorily as may be," the older dwarf answers. "I have brought someone to meet you. This is Fíli, son of Dís and Víli."
"At your service," Fíli bows, feeling curious eyes on him.
"Well met, cousin," Frerin beams. "You look just like your father." He offers a hand and the two clasp forearms. "Your eyes, however, are your mother's entirely." Fíli grins at him, relieved at this easy acceptance. "My daughter, Adra," he gestures to his companion. "It makes my heart glad to know that she will have kin on this quest."
"Aside from her mother's brothers?" Thorin arches an amused eyebrow.
"Aye, all the uncles in Arda cannot make up for kin her own age."
Fíli tunes out their conversation as he turns his attention to the young dwarrowdam he has been introduced to. Her hair is dark, though not as dark as his uncle's it is certainly darker than her father's. Her beard is short, but what there is of it is braided close to her jaw, parted at her chin and worked back into her hair to keep it out of the way. Her green eyes are soft, more like spring leaves than the hard emerald of Nori's gaze and he flushes when he realises that she has been examining him as closely as he has her.
Their conversation is, at first, stilted, the awkward noises of new acquaintances where neither is certain of the other even though they are predisposed to think well of each other. They are kin and they will be travel companions, it would be nice to be friends as well. They have little in common, Fíli has never been exactly poor, although hard work is necessary to keep them in comfort, but Adra is the daughter of the Steward of Khazad-dûm and immensely wealthy. They have lived very different lives; Fíli under sky and Adra under stone. It is their differences, however, instead of their similarities that allows conversation to flow. They compare their childhoods, their crafts and their families. Adra has three younger brothers, Mahal has blessed her family abundantly, all of whom are still at home with her mother. Her two uncles and their cousin will be coming with them and one uncle already has nine children with another on the way. Many of the stories she tells Fíli that night are about her young cousins.
Eventually their conversation has become so easy that when those of them expected to dine in the halls with Elrond are summoned to dinner it is the most natural thing in the world for them to sit next to one another and continue it. They sit with their heads together, trading stories of youthful mischief and Fíli laughing when Ori turns scarlet upon being introduced to her. He barely spares a glance for Bilba, seated as she is with her new elf friends, but when he does she is glaring in his direction. He shrugs it off as irritation from being told that she will continue to travel with the company and turns his attention back to his cousin. By the end of dinner they are firm friends and Thorin and Frerin smile with satisfaction when they see it.
A.N: So I may have been a bit absent minded and forgot to put the rewrites up on here. Woops. In my defence there was assignments, and exams, and panicking that the lock down with my young children (5 and 7 right now) had completely messed up my ability to actually get the marks I needed to continue with my degree. They didn't (got my results about ten days ago and turns out I achieved 88% in my science and 85% in my maths this year so I should be alright) but there is also the next module to worry about messing up. I got a little bit distracted and totally forgot to handle the rewrites on here. I have people on AO3 who nag me. Thankfully.
