AN – Hello, lovelies! Again I apologize for the delay. Since the last update, I was kicked out of my townhouse (so they could sell it), moved all of my things into storage, quit my job, moved in with my parents (which is NIGHTMARISH but free), and got a new job. Hooray! Things should be much calmer now and I expect the next few updates to come quickly. Thanks for hanging in there with me!
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I still own nothing. Enjoy!
Warnings: Dwalin says a potty word, mentions of violence, bullying, and character death. Nothing too intense for this chapter. I needed to give you a break for what's to come…heh heh heh.
Greater than Gold
Chapter 9: Thirty and Twenty-Four
By Displaced Hobbit
"When there is a second son, he is considered the spare. The spare, by all rights, should never sit on the throne, or lord over the land's he is entitled to; in fact it is deeply frowned upon to ever see a spare crowned king. Once he comes of age, the spare must take an oath, one that binds him to protect the king and the prince at all costs, including the very real possibility that he will be forced to give up his life, to ensure that the line endures." Balin chances a glance up at Fili's face, wondering how the lad will react to this bit of news.
As he expected, the prince appears thoughtful, though his face is carefully blank. "So when Kili turns eighty, he will have to take this oath?" he clarifies quietly.
"Aye, laddie; that is the tradition," he confirms. "Though in some rare circumstances, the oath can be taken early. Frerin took it when he was forty-five, before we set out to reclaim Moria. Dwalin took it around the same time, though he was in his fifties."
He mulled over this new bit of information. He had nearly forgotten that Balin was a dwarf lord in his own right, and it would make sense for Dwalin, as a second son, to have taken the oath as well. He wondered how many battles the brothers had fought in, side by side, how many times Dwalin had nearly sacrificed everything for his elder brother, before a horrible thought lodged itself in his mind.
Fili visibly swallows a lump in his throat. "Did…did Uncle Frerin die protecting Uncle Thorin? At Moria?" he asks, his voice tight. He knows better than to ask Thorin about his departed brother, but Balin had brought him up, so he was hopeful that his teacher could give him some more information.
The older dwarf is quiet for a long moment before he answers. "Aye, he did."
Fili feels a cold weight settle into his stomach. He could never – he would never allow Kili to give up his life for him, no matter what the circumstances. He saw how broken his uncle was over Frerin, and he knew he would be just as so, if not worse, if he lost Kili.
"Things would be much different in Erebor, had you lads grown up there," Balin continues softly. "You, as the Heir and Crown Prince, would be doted upon. You would receive the highest education, the best training in weaponry, and the finest smiths to teach you the ways of the forge. Kili would…well, he would be educated, of course, but not in the same way. He would have to train day in and day out to prepare for his role, though most of the time spares are not even aware of their burden until their nearly of age."
He furrowed his brow. "Why aren't they allowed to know?"
Balin offered him a small smile. "Think of your brother, Fili; think of how much he adores and loves you. If he were to know of the oath now, when he is still but a child and completely untrained, what do you think might happen?"
He frowns, understanding the old dwarf's meaning. "He'd get himself into a whole mess of trouble, trying to protect me from things that don't matter."
"Indeed he would," Balin chucked lightly. "He needs time to grow out of his recklessness, to be properly trained for battle. It is…" he hesitates for a moment, fixes Fili with a stern gaze. "You mustn't let you uncle know that I've told you this. It would cut too deep."
Fili nods, trepidation creeping in on him. "I swear it; I won't say anything."
Balin nods in thanks. "Frerin was just twenty when Smaug took the mountain, and he had barely started specializing in his weapon, the axe. When we were wandering from town to town, trying to find a decent place to settle, there was little time to train him, or Dwalin for that matter. We were too focused on just surviving."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His uncle never spoke of such things, and he felt a bit like he was encroaching on something so very private and personal, yet he wanted to know much more.
"When Thror decided to reclaim Moria, we knew there would be a battle ahead of us. There had been whispers of orcs residing in the mountain, but we did not know how many. Thror had been desperate to find us a home, you see, and we set out for battle." He paused as a heavy, weary sigh passed from his lips. "We lost so many dwarrows that day, Fili. Thror was killed, and Frerin; it was the last time anyone saw Thrain, and we've all presumed that he has passed on. I lost my father, nearly lost Dwalin. They were dark times, indeed."
Fili released a shaking breath. No wonder Thorin was so reluctant to speak of his own family. To have lost so many of them, when his uncle had still been so young, in such a horrific battle…he couldn't imagine it for himself.
Balin gave him a sympathetic smile. "After Thorin had sliced the arm from the Pale Orc, when the rest of our soldiers were carrying him off to toss him in the pit of their dead, an orc came up behind Thorin, intending to kill him." Another heavy sigh, and Fili could swear the old dwarf's eyes had misted over. "Frerin threw himself on the sword meant for his brother. I saw it happen. If he had been better trained…if he hadn't been so young and reckless and headstrong…well, he may have been able to disarm the orc instead. He may have been able to survive the battle." He wiped a tired hand down his face before shaking his head. "It's all just speculation, anyhow."
He sat quiet for a moment, absorbing all that Balin had just told him. "Is that why Uncle is so protective of Kili?"
The elder dwarf chuckled lightly. "I should imagine so. There is a great deal of Frerin, and your father, for that matter, in little Kili. Small, reckless, loves too deeply, even born on the same blasted day."
"What?" Fili asked, genuinely confused. His father's birthday had been in the spring.
"Oh, I should have expected you didn't know," he grumbled. "Kili and Frerin share a name day. It's part of why your mother was so distraught at his birth; her thoughts were so full of your father and her brother, both whom she loved dearly and lost far, far too soon."
"What about when we return to Erebor?" he asked, chewing on his lip nervously. He didn't want Kili to take the oath too young, to follow them to Erebor and possibly get himself killed. He didn't think he could stand it if Kili died protecting him or their uncle.
Balin sighed again. "That, laddie, I don't have an answer to. Your uncle has been very adamant that Kili is not to know of the oath should we leave for Erebor before he is of age. But, you, laddie, will be expected to come with him, as his heir, and the rest of the company that Thorin forms would be tasked with ensuring your survival and the continuation of the Line of Durin."
Fili nodded, feeling greatly relieved that Thorin was already planning on keeping Kili safe, on leaving him behind. It would hurt, he knew, to be without his shadow, but it was much better than living in the constant fear that Kili could forfeit his life for him.
"However," Balin continued; "if Kili is of age when we depart, he will have already taken the oath, and he will be expected to accompany you as well."
The feeling of dread clawed back up his spine again, but he managed a small smile. "Well, Kili won't be of age for fifty-some years. Surely we'll have the mountain back before then."
Balin offered him a smile in return, albeit a fake one. "Only time will tell, laddie."
"Kili, wait," Thorin called over the din of the forge. "You're letting the metal get too thin, here." He gestured at a specific part of the sword his youngest sister-son was determinedly working on. "You don't want to leave any weak spots; the sword will break in battle."
Kili huffed out a sigh as he wiped the sweat from his brow, frustrated. "Do I have to start all over?" he asked. He really, really didn't want to have to start from scratch again, not when Thorin had made that face he makes when he is trying to hide his disappointment. He'd been helping out at the forge for nearly five years, and he still hadn't made anything from metal that they could sell.
He did make a lot of hilts and scabbards, and other things from leather, as well as did a fair amount of engravings and embellishments, but Thorin and Fili and Dwalin all worked so well with metal, always crafted such beautiful things, and he couldn't even make a sword without mucking it all up.
"I shouldn't expect so," Thorin replied after taking a moment to look the sword over. "Go and heat it here," he indicated a particular spot on the sword, "and you should be able to reshape it."
He sighed heavily as he blinked back tears of frustration he could already feel forming. Fili made it all look so easy, so effortless, and he felt entirely too useless.
Thorin placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should take a rest. Is your arm hurting you?"
His eyes automatically drifted to the jagged scar along his forearm. Of course it hurt; it always hurt. It had been broken twice after all, and he been the worst pain he had ever experienced. Yet, he was too ashamed to admit that to anyone, so he simply shrugged. "It's fine, I guess," he mumbled.
"Kili," he spoke with a warning tone, but his following admonishment was cut short by Gloin pushing through the door, a giggling Gimli perched upon his shoulders.
"Found him, Da!" Gimli happily exclaimed as he pointed a finger at Thorin.
Thorin waved at them in greeting, and Kili sullenly walked over to the fire to reheat the sword as he'd been instructed.
"You've got some company, cousin," Gloin called out, and Kili turned to watch their exchange. "Emissaries from the Iron Hills. Six of 'em."
He didn't miss the way his uncle's entire form tensed up. "And what business do they have with me?" His tone was carefully guarded.
Gloin merely shrugged. "They didn't say. Waiting for you in the market square, though."
Thorin grumbled something under his breath that Kili thought sounded suspiciously like a swear as he strode over to his own anvil to retrieve the sword he was working on before dousing it with water. Kili did the same, casting curious glances at his uncle all the while. He'd never seen him so tense, so annoyed (and he and Fili had done a number of things to make him plenty annoyed), and he wanted to know why.
Balin had taught him about the other dwarf lords, about Dain who ruled in the Iron Hills, and that Dain had turned them away after Erebor had fallen, but that was all he knew. His uncle never spoke of them.
The four of them made for the market square, meeting with Balin and Fili along the way. "What's going on, Fee?" he asked, tugging on his brother's sleeve as they walked.
"No idea," his brother mumbled as he gently pulled his arm away. "Stop it; you're too old for that."
Kili frowned. Fili had never seemed to mind the way he often looped their arms together, or the way he tugged at his sleeve when he was nervous. Yet, he could see the concern that lined his brother's normally cheery features, so he did as he was asked.
He nearly stopped dead in his tracks when they rounded the corner to the market square. He hadn't really known what dwarrows from the Iron Hills might look like, but they were all big, nearly as tall as Mister Dwalin and carried two axes apiece on their backs. They were dressed in full armor, and something uncomfortable settled itself into Kili's stomach.
Instinctively, he reached for his uncle's sleeve, only to feel Balin's hand grasping roughly at his shoulder and pulling him back. "You stay with me, lads," he offered in explanation as Thorin approached the emissaries, who were speaking with Nar about the construction of the great halls.
Upon seeing Thorin joining the rather impressive crowd that gathered, one of the emissaries' faces lit up in a wide smile. "Ah, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain! It is good to see you well," he greeted.
Thorin's back stayed tense and rigid. "What business has brought you to Ered Luin?" he asked, wasting no time on formalities. The emissary's face fell slightly, but he seemed undeterred by his uncle's rudeness.
"News has only just reached my lord's hall of the passing of Lady Dis," he explained, and Kili watched as Fili tensed up as much as their uncle. This time, when he reached for his elder's hand, the blond didn't pull away; instead, he squeezed it tighter. "My lord Dain wishes to offer his condolences for your loss."
The tension in the crowd had grown palpable. Most of the dwarrows had known Dis at one time or another, and mention of he death seemed to renew the grief in their hearts. "You may thank him, for me," Thorin murmured finally, his voice having lost much of its bravado.
After a beat of silence, the emissary spoke again. "We also heard she had borne sons, before her passing?" Kili gipped his brother's hand even tighter, as his stomach continued to clinch with that uncomfortable feeling he couldn't hope to will away.
Thorin's anger rose up quickly. "Speak your true business," he spat venomously. "Do not hide your intentions under the guise of condolences for my sister's passing."
The emissary immediately raised his hands in an attempt to placate his uncle. "I mean no offence, my lord," he explained quickly. "My lord Dain only sought to see the legitimacy of these claims. Her firstborn would be heir to Erebor, would he not be? My lord Dain only wishes to see if a true heir exists; nothing more."
Thorin falls silent for a long moment before he calls out, "Fili!"
His brother jumps slightly and wrenches his hand free. He gives him an anxious look before Balin pats him on the back and pushes him forward, a reassuring smile on his face. Kili starts to follow him, but Balin's hand on his shoulder holds him back.
"Remember, laddie," he murmurs as Fili makes his way through the crowd; "you go only if you're called for." He flashes a warm smile and pats his back gently. "Best not to get you mixed up into all these politics if we don't have to."
Kili nods and turns his gaze back to where his brother has come to stand by their uncle. Thorin's arm wraps loosely around this shoulders, a show of pride as well as one of comfort for the lad.
"Quite a bit younger than we'd expected!" the emissary declared. "Fili, is it? How old are you, lad?"
Fili glanced up at their uncle before replying. "Thirty, sir."
"Ah, so you've started learning your craft, and specializing in your weapons, have you?"
Fili gives a small nod. "Yes sir. I've been learning weapons making in the forge, and I train with twin sword."
"Fine skills for a prince!" The emissary declares. "Though most lads learn their weapons from their fathers. As a bastard child, whom do you learn from?"
Thorin's growl is warning enough for the emissary to back off slightly. "I learn from my uncle," Fili answers quietly, though his voice trembles a bit. "As well as from family friends who have helped raise me in my father's stead."
"And what of the other boy?" the emissary asks as his gaze switches back to Thorin. "What of the little elfling who'd rather shoot a bow than learn the ways of his people?" The emissaries, as well as several of the townspeople laugh lightly.
Kili feels his cheeks flush with shame. Even in kingdoms far off from his home, he is still not a proper dwarf. Do dwarrows in the Iron Hills have him at the butt of their jokes, like so many in his own home do? He releases a shaking breath and hopes that his uncle is able to defend him in the face of these strangers.
"He is of no concern," Thorin growls out, but says no more.
Kili's heart sinks into his stomach. No concern, he is of no concern, not even worthy of defending in the face of the emissaries who mock him. His uncle is ashamed of him, ashamed of his rubbish skills in the forge, ashamed of his mediocre swordsmanship, ashamed of his lack of beard, of his smaller size, of everything. He felt the familiar prickle of tears behind his eyes, and took that moment to slip out of the crowd that had formed.
No one followed him.
Fili releases the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding the second the emissaries take their leave. His uncle is still tense as stone as they make their way back to the forge.
"What was all of that about?" he asks as soon as Thorin slams the door shut behind him. "Uncle?" he calls again, when his elder makes no sign that he'd heard him.
"That," Thorin nearly snarls, "was Dain trying to weasel his way back into Erebor once more."
"Once more?" I don't…" he trails off, confusion evident in his voice. Thorin flops down heavily in the lone armchair in the forge and wipes a tired hand across his brow. "Uncle, please tell me what's going on," he pleads quietly.
Thorin sighs. "I am sure Balin has taught you of how Dain turned us away after the dragon came to Erebor," he begins, and Fili nods his head. "I suppose that is not entirely true."
Fili's brow furrows in confusion as he settles himself down on the floor, much like he had when he and Kili were but babes, anxious for a bedtime story.
"From the moment your mother was born, Dain sent proposal after proposal for her hand in marriage," he explains quietly. "My grandfather did not agree with his methods, did not think that a marriage should be used for political gains. Love is so rare for our people, and he did not feel it should be snuffed out without a chance for it to come to us."
"Well was he in love with mum?" he asked, genuinely curious. He had heard stories of dwarrows whose love for their Ones went unrequited, and wondered if such a fate had befallen Dain.
Thorin shook his head. "No. At that time, he was next in line for the throne after my father and myself. I suspect he thought a marriage between himself and my sister would secure his hold in Erebor." He sighed again. "Relations between Erebor and the Iron Hills were always on the best of terms, save for Grandfather's refusal to marry of his only granddaughter while she was still a babe. When the dragon attacked…we had thought they would offer of sanctuary, offer us men to help fend off the dragon, and they did, but it came with a cost."
Realization dawned on him. "He wanted mum," he whispered quietly.
Thorin nodded. "Not only that, though. He wanted my grandfather to name him as his heir, to end the rule of the line of Durin in Erebor and to take it over for himself. It was not a price we were willing to pay."
When Thorin's face turned wistful, Fili asked another question. "Do you ever wish he would have paid it?"
Thorin immediately shook his head. "Not once. I saw how happy your father made your mum from the moment they met. I would not wish for that happiness to have ever been taken from her, no matter that we might be better off." A soft smile spread itself across his face. "And I would not have you, or your brother, had we given into his demands. My life would be bleak indeed without the pair of you."
Fili smiled in return. "Why didn't you say anything about Kili?" he asked, genuinely curious. It had struck him as odd that his uncle hadn't corrected the emissary's statement about his brother, that he had brushed it off as though it were nothing.
Thorin sighed heavily. "The less he knows of Kili, the better. Daughters and second sons are often used a political bargaining chips. If Dain wants to think of Kili as a disgrace, as his emissaries so clearly do, then I will let him." He frowns as he rubs his temple tiredly. "It is not ideal to allow others to think ill of my kin, but if it keeps Kili safe, then I will allow it."
Fili nods in understanding. He doesn't particularly like it either, hates to hear people refer to his brother as elfling or speak of him as though he is a lesser dwarf, but if it helps to keep him safe, then he supposes he can let is pass for now. He hadn't realized just how much danger surrounded his carefree little brother, with being a spare and have other dwarf lords out to take advantage of him for their own political purposes. How was he ever supposed to keep him safe from those things? A small feeling of helplessness clawed its way up his throat.
He can't. He can't protect him from everything, just as Balin had said so many years ago.
"What troubles you, nephew?" Thorin asks quietly, jarring him out of his thoughts.
"Mister Balin taught me about the spares today," he said quietly, wisely choosing not to elaborate on what all he had learned based on the way his uncle stiffened in his seat. "Though I'm worried about Kili; he's not a strong enough fighter."
"Not yet," Thorin agrees. "That's why he cannot know until he is eighty, until he is properly trained."
Fili nods in agreement. "I won't breathe a word of it to him," he promises. "I don't like it at all though. It's not his fault he was born second. It seems like a terrible burden to bear."
"I should suppose it is," Thorin murmurs quietly. "Trust that I will do all I can to keep him safe."
"I do trust you, it's just that…Mister Balin said that if we don't leave for Erebor before Kili comes of age then he'll have taken the oath and…" Fili trailed off, chewing on his lip for a moment. "He didn't really act like he thought Kili would survive is all, and I couldn't stand it, uncle."
Thorin slips down from the armchair to join him on the floor and pull him into a warm hug. "You mustn't fret over this now," he whispers fiercely, but he can tell from the thickness of his uncle's voice that Thorin must worry about it every single day. "If things work out well enough I won't need to bring either of you on the quest; you'll stay safe here in Ered Luin and I will send for you once the dragon is vanquished. We will know no loss and you both will be kept safe."
Fili nods against his chest and tries to swallow down the thickness that has formed in his throat. He wants to believe his uncle, he really, truly does, but deep in his gut he worries that everything is going to go terribly, horribly wrong.
Dwalin finds him some hours later, still hacking relentlessly into a wooden practice dummy in the training yard, sweat pouring down his back as he desperately tries to improve his skills. He knows exactly what ails the lad; he'd seen the way his face had fallen at his uncle's dismissal of him. He's seen Kili struggle with his weapons training, seen him break down in frustration when he couldn't get his forms correct, or lost a sparring match against his opponents.
Yet he also sees great potential in Kili, potential that will develop into real skill once he is older and larger. The lad is like a lot of winter-born children – small for his age, slighter than his peers – but there are so few of them around, as many winter-born children die before their first birthday from the cold of lack of food, it is easy to forget. He reminds him of a scrawny, younger Thorin, one who had struggled as much as Kili did now.
"You're gonna blunt your sword if you keep on like that, lad," he comments idly, already forming a plan to handle the situation.
Kili whirls around in surprise, sword slipping from his numbed fingers. Dwalin tuts quietly at the streaks of tears he sees on the lads flushed, dirty face, and makes a mental note to speak to Thorin in the morning if he didn't see him this evening. He'd understood why Thorin had reacted the way he had, but Kili clearly hadn't. It wouldn't do any good for him to explain his friend's actions to the lad, however; he knew he needed to hear it from Thorin and no one else.
"We'll sharpen it back up at the forge tomorrow, yeah?" he continues as Kili bends to pick up his sword. "Swing again, and stop when you hit the dummy."
Kili gives him a look that is confusion mixed with relief, but eventually nods and complies. He grabs a wooden sword from the nearby weapons rack and neatly swings it against the opening Kili has left along his side.
"You're leaving your side open again," he says when Kili squawks in surprise at the hit. "How do you fix that?"
Kili bites his lip in thought for a moment before adjusting his form to close the opening. "Like that," he murmurs.
"Good, good," Dwalin agrees. "Now swing again, and make sure your stance is like that when you kit."
It takes the lad a few tries to get it right, but he eventually succeeds flashes a small smile up at Dwalin when he does. They practice his forms against the dummy for a bit longer, Dwalin pointing out any weak spots he's left for potential attackers, and Kili adjusting his form as he goes.
"Well done lad," he applauds after they've worked for a while. "Now come on; I want you to spar with me."
Kili's mouth drops open comically wide. "I'm not even half as big as you!" he protests.
"I'd say our height difference is about the same as you and a man," he explains. "You're almost never going to be as big as your real opponents, lad, may as well get the practice in now."
Kili still looks doubtful, but he trades his sword out for his wooden one and gets into the appropriate stance. "No hits?" he asks nervously. He's never sparred with the lad before, and he's seen Fili, Ori, and even little Gimli lay Kili out with a well placed hit, so he understands his hesitation.
"You hit me; I won't hit you, just taps," he explains. "Your brother'd have my head if I sent you home all bruised up."
Kili nods, and they begin their match. The lad is fast and agile for a dwarf, aided by both his small size and his youth, and he finds it quite difficult to land a hit on him. Kili actually lands several good hits on him, ones that would have taken him down had they been done with a real sword. Soon enough, the lad's fatigue begins to catch up with him. He is sure that Kili had been training for hours before he'd even set foot in the yard, and they'd been at it for a few hours themselves.
When Kili leaves an opening at his side again, Dwalin swoops in for the hit. He'd intended to only tap the lad, as promised, but Kili stumbled sideways, and he wound up hitting him with the full force of his swing, sending the lad face down in the dirt, gasping for breath.
"Shit!" he hissed under his breath. They'd been doing so well, he'd seen the confidence blooming in the lad's movements. He'd be cross with himself for days if he'd managed to muck that up. "Are you alright, lad?" he asked as he pulled the boy up into a sitting position, straightening his back to help him catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.
Kili nodded, sucking in great gulps of breath as he did. "You said you wouldn't hit me!" he accuses, but he wears a mirthful smile, and he sighs in relief.
"Should go without saying that you don't want to fall on your opponent's sword, yeah?" he jests as he pulls the lad up.
"I thought I asked you to help train my nephew, my friend, not send him sprawling into the dirt," Thorin calls from the side of the training yard, where he is leaning against the fencing with an amused smile on his face.
Dwalin notes the look of apprehension that flits quickly across Kili's face before he appears to become very interested in his boots. "Go and wash up a bit, will you?" he asks, and Kili turns to do as he's told, jogging to the other side of the yard to wash his face and hands in the basin that rests there.
With Kili appropriately distracted, he strides over to Thorin. "You hurt him today," he says simply, without preamble. "When you said he was of no concern," he elaborates at the confusion that crosses his old friend's face. "I suspect he thinks he's shamed you."
"He what?" Thorin whisper-shouts. "I didn't think…"
"I know your reasoning," Dwalin interrupts smoothly. "And I agree with you. The less Dain thinks of Kili, the better, but he doesn't know that. All he sees is that you're proud of Fili and not of him. He's been out here training all day."
Thorin frowns as he watches Kili gather his things. "I had not meant to hurt him," he admits quietly.
"I know that," Dwalin murmurs. "Just explain it to him; he'll understand."
Thorin lets his arm drop across Kili's shoulders as they depart from the practice yard. "You held your own against Dwalin quite well today, from what I saw," he praises, squeezing a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks," Kili murmurs quietly, his eyes still focused intently on the ground in front of him.
He sighs, fully realizing how deeply his words must have cut. When he'd uttered them he hadn't even thought of how Kili would take them, hadn't even considered how harsh they must have sounded to the boy's ears. They fall into a heavy silence as they walk, and Kili looks up in surprise as the wall that barricades them into their alcove on the mountain comes into view. Thorin simply gestures to the ladder at its base, and Kili obediently climbs it.
The small smile that grazes Kili's face when they reach the top reaffirms that he's made a good decision. He sun is setting, painting the sky a myriad of colors and enhancing the green of the forest trees that rest just beyond their settlement. He knows Kili feels more at home with the trees and open air than he does in the mountain, and he cannot blame him. The first years of Fili and Kili's lives were spent in such a place, and he knew they both felt stifled when they had to spend long periods of time under the mountain.
Thorin sits down, makes himself comfortable against the stone of the wall, and gestures for Kili to join him. At this time of day, it is private up on the wall. The night watchmen won't climb it until the sun sets completely and they've returned from their patrols just to the outside. He gestures for Kili to sit next to him, smiling slightly at the way the lad tucks himself into his side as he wraps his arm around him.
Kili has always been affectionate, loving, and that is one of the things he most cherishes about his youngest sister-son, even if Balin constantly urges him to encourage the lad to grow out of it.
"Will you tell me what troubles you, little Kili?" he asks after a while.
It is a long while before Kili responds, and Thorin's heart breaks just a little at his whispered question. "Are you ashamed of me?"
"Of course not," he answers quickly as he squeezes him just a bit tighter. "Not in the slightest, my boy."
"It's just…" Kili's voice cracks a little as he speaks. "You're just so proud of Fee, and I try so hard to be like him but I can't and I don't want you to be ashamed of me because I'm not a proper dwarf and I just…"
"Stop," he urges gently. "I am proud of Fili, and you are very, very different from your brother," he admits and Kili makes a frustrated little noise from his side. "But that does not mean I am any less proud of you," he soothes.
"But it's not proper…"
"Kili!" he whisper-shouts in exasperation. "You are thinking in stereotypes, little one. What if all dwarrows were only good at weapons making and mining and sword fighting?"
"I dunno," he murmurs softly, voice pitching higher in frustration.
"We'd have no food, for one," he explains. "We need good hunters, and Dwalin thinks you'll be one of the best, lad. Your skill with your bow will have us eating like kings as soon as you are able to go hunt with him!"
Kili looks up at him with watery eyes. "Really?" he asks.
"Really," he confirms. "And you're quite skilled with leather, aren't you? You've made some wonderful hilts and scabbards and we've been able to sell our weapons for more because of that."
Kili scrunches up his nose. "Gimli says leatherwork is for dwarrodams."
"Gimli is a child," he huffs out in frustration.
"Well so am I!" Kili retaliates.
Thorin sees his opening and takes it. "So why do you put so much pressure on yourself to be like an adult?"
Kili opens and closes his mouth a number of times in a spectacular imitation of a fish. "Because Fee does," he settles on finally. "And I want to be like Fee."
"Sweet little Kili," Thorin chides gently. "Why do you wish to be so like him? There's nothing wrong with being yourself."
Kili mulls over his words for a moment. "Because he's nice, and everyone loves him, and he's always…he's always taken care of me and one day I want to be able to take care of him," he admits quietly.
"You will," he murmurs; "of that I have no doubt. But you are forgetting that you are dearly loved as well. There is not a thing wrong with you lad, whether you are a so-called 'proper' dwarf or not; do you understand me?"
The lad nods against his side and murmurs, "yes, uncle."
"And never think that I am not proud of you, Kili," he adds. "I am sorry I caused you to doubt me."
"You said I was of no concern," he whispers, voice catching the tiniest bit.
He leans down to press a kiss against the boy's temple. "I meant that you are of no concern to Dain and his men," he explains. "I did not mean to cause you distress, but it is for the best that he not know much about you."
"Oh," Kili mumbles quietly.
"I only mean to keep you safe, my boy," he continues. "You will understand better when you are older."
Kili nods again, but doesn't say anything else. Thorin hopes that he believes him; he does truly take great pride in both of his nephews, and he makes a mental note to show Kili more often. He has let himself forget about the lad's insecurities with how caught up he has gotten in his own responsibilities.
"Come along, now," he murmurs after a long moment, rising to his feet and helping Kili up as well. "Bombur's invited us for supper, and I think we all could do with some washing up."
The mention of food – specifically Bombur's food – brings a smile to Kili's face and he quickly rushes back to their home. It is enough lightheartedness to almost, almost convince him that he can keep the lads safe and unmarred from the troubles that have followed him his entire life.
Yet, when he takes in Fili's anxious face as he finally returns with his little brother, he knows that things have already started to change, for worse or for better, he does not know, but there is nothing – nothing – he can do to stop it.
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