AN – I am so, so sorry that this has taken me so long to finish. I am still not 100% happy with it, but I don't think I am going to make it any better anytime soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you all so much for being so supportive and loving of me and this story.
Please Read: Those of you who follow me on tumblr know that part of the delay on this chapter was because I had to STOP WRITING due to guest review hate I was receiving on this site. Again, I strongly recommend that you check out the FAQ (on my tumblr page; it has it's own link at the top) and that you READ THE WARNINGS. Please do not send me hate because you did not read the warnings; they are there for a reason. If you don't understand something in the chapter review while logged in so I can answer it for you. I try to respond to every review that has a specific question or that I think you're sounding a bit confused.
It is also important to essentially treat this story as an AU. Fili and Kili's childhood is not cannon, there's no mention of it in the book, and as you'll see in the FAQ a lot of this story comes from my own head-cannons. Please do not send me hate because you're upset that I haven't addressed things in the book, or that I have left things out for now.
If the anon hate on this site continues, I will remove the story. Seriously. You have no idea how hurtful this has all been and it started to twist something that I loved into something that I dreaded. I know a lot of you are very sweet and loyal to the story and I truly, absolutely appreciate you, but I cannot keep coming home to an inbox full of guest review hate.
Anyway, to those of you that have been stellar, thank you so much for reading and staying in this with me. I hope you enjoy this one!
I still own nothing. Enjoy!
Warnings: Potty words, Fili has Filings, Poppa Bear Thorin, angstttttt (way more than I intended; my bad).
Greater than Gold
Chapter 11: Thirty-Four and Twenty-Eight – Part 2
By Displaced Hobbit
It is late when he returns home.
They are to leave at first light if they have any hope of making it to Bree before autumn begins, and he'd needed to ensure that all of their ponies were properly saddled and stocked with all of the supplies they'd required for their journey. He should still be able to grab a few blessed hours of sleep before dawn, at least.
He smiles slightly as he nears his home. One of his nephews must have stoked the fire before going to bed, as the front room window glows with warmth. It is a small comfort, one that he knows he will miss once they are on the road. He does not expect to see one of his nephews still awake, curled up in one of the armchairs that face the fire, but he is unsurprised nonetheless.
"You should be sleeping, lad," he murmurs. "You've a big day tomorrow."
"Big day of bein' left behind, you mean," Kili mutters, almost bitterly, and Thorin cannot blame him. He has only had to separate the lad from his family on very rare occasions, and every time he had entrusted the care of his youngest sister-son to Dwalin and Balin. Now, with the brothers accompanying Fili and himself to Bree, Kili was truly being left behind.
"We've discussed this," he says gently, coming around to squat in front of the chair, gently pulling the carving the lad was working on from his hands. "It is safer for you."
Kili sighs as he lets his head fall against the back of the chair. "I know," he mutters despondently. "But I just…I just thought I'd be older, I suppose. And Fee is still so…" he waves with his hands as he tries and fails to find the right words.
"I know the timing is not ideal," he says as he cups the lad's face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. "Six months is not so long a time, after all."
Kili frowns hard at him, and when he blinks a few tears manage to slide down his cheeks. "What if you don't come back?"
"Oh, my hofukel (joy of all joys)," he whispers, maneuvering the lad so that he is able to sit on the chair and pull him into his arms, despite how big he is getting. "You mustn't let such dark thoughts in. We will be back with the spring; I promise you."
Kili curls instinctively against him, ducks his head under his chin as his arms wrap around to hold him close. "I'm scared," he admits, and Thorin hates that he can feel how badly he is shaking. "I'm so scared that you won't come back." The lad's small hands tangle in his hair, fingers curled around the strands like a lifeline.
He doesn't quite know what to do for him. He has no words of comfort to offer him, no solid reassurances he can give; he has nothing but their embrace and the same promise of return he's uttered the entire week. Eventually, he starts humming a lullaby that his mother used to sing to him, one that he has long forgotten the words to. When Kili's trembling stops and his breathing evens out in sleep, he doesn't have the heart to wake him and put him back in his own bed. Sighing, he gives up on his desire for one last nights sleep in his warm and comfortable bed and hugs Kili closer as he finally drifts off.
"All right then laddies; we look to be all set," Balin declares as he smoothes a hand across his pony's mane. "We'll need to get a move on, soon."
Fili glances at the small company that will be travelling to Bree alongside him – his uncle, Dwalin, Balin, and three of the dwarrows from the town guard – before turning back to his brother. Kili is standing with Bofur, who looks like he just rolled out of bed to retrieve the lad, but has a hand gently resting on his shoulder. Right; it's time for goodbyes. He watches, smoothing his fingers along the braid Kili had crafted into his hair just hours ago, as his elders bid his little brother farewell.
Balin claps a hand on his shoulder, tells him to finish all of the reading he's left for him, but wears a smile to show that he's not overly serious. Dwalin is uncharacteristically tender as he leans down to knock their foreheads together gently, murmuring for him to "train hard" while they are gone. Thorin envelops him into a warm hug, squeezes him tight and presses a kiss against his temple. He tells him to mind Bofur, to stay out of trouble, and whispers that he loves him.
Then it's his turn. Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin busy themselves with their ponies to give them an illusion of privacy, and he is enormously grateful as he gathers his baby brother in his arms and hugs him as tight as he dares.
"Don't do anything stupid," Kili mumbles from where his face is pressed against his neck.
"I won't," he promises easily, kissing the crown of his head. "You neither," he murmurs.
Kili nods and squeezes him a little bit closer. "Love you," he whispers, and Fili can tell how close he is to tears from the quiver in his voice.
"Love you," he whispers back. Thorin clears his throat from behind him, so he pulls away from his baby brother. He catches the lad's face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. "I'll see you soon, alright?" he asks, brushing his thumbs along Kili's cheeks to wipe away the few tears that have escaped.
His brother gives him a watery smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Course," he murmurs. Kili's hands fall away from him to hang limply at his sides, and he looks so despondent that Fili presses one more kiss against his forehead. He knows he's treated his brother horribly lately, knows that Kili has forgiven him, but is still terrified to leave him behind, terrified to leave things as broken as he feels they are, terrified that Kili will have decided that forgiving him had been a reckless, stupid mistake, that he won't return home to a warm smile, that he'll instead be faced with coldness from his little brother.
Then Thorin's hand is on his shoulder, gently easing him away. "Come on, lad," he murmurs softly, and Fili turns to follow. "Don't look back," his uncle urges. "It's harder to leave if you look back."
He takes the reigns of his pony and follows their company down the path that leads to the forest, never once looking back, following his uncle's instructions despite the longing and pain in his chest. He's not even out of Kili's sight yet and he misses him fiercely.
If he would have looked behind him, he would have seen Kili press his face against Bofur's side, would have seen the toymaker's arm drape around him and rub at his back comfortingly, would have seen his brother's shoulders shaking with the force of his tears. If he would have looked behind him, he would have lost all of his resolve to go on this journey, would have abandoned his responsibilities in favor of his brother.
He doesn't look back, but Thorin does, and from the pain and regret that flashes across his uncle's face, he's glad he hasn't.
He'd only traveled with Thorin a handful of times, and only to Fairfield, the town of men that sat farther down the mountain than their own settlement. That was only a half-day's walk, a trip that didn't even require ponies or tents or any of the other supplies they carried with them now.
He wasn't truly sure what he had expected from their journey to Bree, but the crushing boredom and constant riding definitely was not it. It left him with too much time for thinking let him dwell far too long on the mistakes he'd been making for the past few years. He'd mucked things up with Kili, no matter how much his little brother insisted he hadn't, and he'd no time to make amends before being shoved off on this journey.
He hated it.
Every now and then, Balin will break up the silence with historical stories, and Dwalin adds embellishments (but only when his brother allows it; most of the time the warrior is cut off with a stern glare from his elder), but it is still so dry and boring. The guardsmen that travel with them chat amicably enough; one of them is due to be married to his One in the summer after they return, so their conversations hold no real interest for Fili at all.
Thorin is mostly silent, aside from asking Fili if he is feeling all right each night, and explaining where they are and showing him where he expects them to travel during the day each morning. He can feel how anxious his uncle is, feels how it grows with each step they take closer to Bree. He wants to know more of what happened between his uncle and the Lord of the Iron Hills, what makes it so that Dain can lay claim to the throne just because he thinks Fili might be illegitimate.
By the fifth day, his curiosity is killing him, so he asks.
He waits until Thorin has sidled his pony next to his own, waits until the guardsmen are a little farther ahead to give them some sense of privacy. "I don't understand how Dain can just stake his claim on Erebor if he thinks I'm not a proper heir," he comments, trying his best to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"Lord Dain," Balin corrects with a huff. "Honestly, lad, have you learned nothing from me?"
"He has long been after the throne," Thorin cuts in sharply. "It is…generally frowned upon to have a king whose lineage comes from his mother."
Dwalin mutters something under his breath that he doesn't quite catch, but it earns him a sharp glare from Balin, and a hissed, "You'd best get all of those disrespectful words out of your mouth before we arrive, brother."
"Since I have no sons of my own," Thorin continues, although he now wears a small smile at the Fundin brothers' antics, "Dain would be next in line. If it is true that he only just learned of your, and your brother's, existence, then he's likely angry. He's lived most of his life believing that the throne will somehow fall to him, either through marriage to your mother or through my eventual demise." He sighs. "He will no doubt seek to make you appear weak, unfit for the throne…"
"He's a boy," Dwalin grumbles. "I'd understand such nonsense if the lad were of age, but that's more than forty years away. There's no sense in testing him until he's been properly trained"
Balin sighs. "It is all a bit suspicious. I'll grant him the emissaries; that was a wise choice, to verify the existence of the lads, but this…"
Panic claws its way up Fili's spine. He hadn't thought – hadn't even considered that this visit would be anything other than routine. He didn't know the customs of court or the appropriate etiquette or what was truly expected of him. He knew how to greet others appropriately, how to hold his tongue and speak only when asked, and of the history of his line, but everything else, everything a king was supposed to know, was completely foreign to him.
"Do not fret, Fili," Thorin soothes. "You will be kept safe, Dwalin and I will see to that."
"And as your tutor I will certainly speak on your behalf about your education to ease any tension caused by gaps in your knowledge," Balin adds as Dwalin nods stiffly. "You need only to focus on keeping yourself calm and level headed."
"What if he thinks I am unfit to be your heir?" he asks quietly, hating the slight tremble in his voice. He desperately does not want to let his uncle down, not after failing Kili so badly.
"His opinion matters little to me," Thorin all but snarls. "He gets nothing until my death, by any means, and by then we will have reclaimed Erebor and you will be named the prince you were born to be."
"And once he lays eyes on you he'll have no doubts that you're of Durin's line," Balin adds, small smile tugging at his features, trying to diffuse the potential situation Thorin's foul mood may cause. "Coloring aside, you look more like your mum with each passing day."
His comment achieves his goal, as Thorin's scowl gives way to the barest hint of a smile. "That you do, lad."
It gives Fili a sense of peace to hear that. There is not a day that passes that he doesn't think of his mother, of both his parents. It is a small comfort to him to know that he has a piece of her always. Idly, he wonders if it gives his uncle comfort as well, or if it reminds him of what he has lost.
"Kili is starting to look like Frerin," Dwalin adds. "The nose especially; though, his coloring is all yours, Thorin."
Fili frowns. "I thought he looked more like Da?" His memories of his father are far hazier than those of his mother. His mother had been a constant presence in his life, but his father had worked often when he was younger, particularly when they'd learned she was with child once more.
"He did when he was younger," Thorin explains. "Though the more he grows the more he comes to resemble my brother."
"Oh," Fili mumbles. "That's seems odd, since they share a name day and all."
Thorin visibly stiffens and Balin shoots him a warning glare indicating that he is not to reveal that he knows anything more about his departed uncle. Fili sheepishly shrugs his shoulders as a way of apology, and Dwalin quickly turns the conversation to something less sensitive.
Thorin does not speak again that day besides bidding him a good night.
"There's something…familiar about this place," Fili murmurs a couple of days later. It doesn't look particularly different – they're still surrounded by lush green trees and the road is still rocky and doesn't look to be overly travelled – but there's just something different about the air and the smell and it almost feels like home.
"I'm surprised you remember it," Thorin admits. "We haven't been here since you were very small."
Suddenly, it clicks for him. They are in the woods surrounding Gondamon, a town of dwarrow and men in the lowlands of the mountain, the town where he and Kili were born.
The town where his parents had died.
A thick lump claws its way into his throat, and for a moment he just wants to stop, dismount his pony, and run all the way back to Ered Luin, run back to his little brother and gather him up into his arms and tell him that he's sorry, that he's been such a fool to try and give away what little family he has left. He misses them, all of them, more than he had ever thought possible.
"It has been a long time for myself as well," he continues. "I have not been this way in many years, but I always try to take this road." He's quiet for a moment before continuing. "It brings me comfort to visit with your mother."
Fili's head perks up at this. He's never, not once, visited his parents after they were laid to rest. He knew it was commonplace for dwarrow to visit departed loved ones in the tombs, especially on birthdays and special holidays. He's never even wanted to visit, never truly had the thought cross his mind, until now.
"Do we have time to see her?" he asks without hesitation, suddenly filled with need to pay his respects to his mother.
Thorin offers him a small, sad and wistful smile and nods. "I think Gondamon is a fine place to stop for the evening," he explains. "Our spirits would do well with good food and a warm bed."
Dwalin grumbles something under his breath that sounds like, "finally", and they ride in relative silence the rest of the way to the town, where the Fundin brothers immediately take the reigns of their ponies to lead them to the stables. Balin gives him a warm smile and encouraging nod as the brothers and their guard bid them on their way.
He's anxious as he follows Thorin to the outskirts of the town. All of his memories of this place are vague at best; what he remembers most is his father's warm smiles and his mother's constant affection. He hates that he feels as though he is starting to forget them, hates that their memory has become hazier and hazier with each passing day.
"Shouldn't we be headed toward the mountain?" he asks, curious as to why they are headed in the exact opposite direction. "Or is the entrance to the tomb in the foothills instead?"
"It isn't a tomb at all," his uncle explains. "You remember the cemetery in Fairfield, don't you? It's like that."
Fili frowns and chews on his lower lip. "But we're supposed to go back to the stone after we pass. So that Aule can find us and guide us to Mandos. That's what Mister Balin said at least." He worried now, worried that his mother hasn't found her way to the Halls of Waiting, worried that she won't be waiting for him when he inevitably makes that journey.
"An old myth," Thorin murmurs, but raises a hand to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly all the same. "The Maker protects all of his children, guides them all to the Halls whether they are laid to rest in the stone or not." He is quiet for a long moment before he murmurs, "and so many of us have not been," so quietly that Fili is sure he wasn't meant to hear it.
The graveyard is a small, nondescript affair. It is sectioned off with a low wall of stones; the graves are marked with even humbler stone markers. Some are engraved with names and messages to those who have been lost, while others are completely barren, and Fili wonders if there is anyone who mourns those unnamed souls. Even fewer are marked with runes, runes that Balin has drilled into his head since he was five years old, the runes of their people.
"Here," Thorin murmurs quietly once they've reached the back row of stones. "Here they are."
He follows his uncle's lead as a sinks reverently to his knees, fingertips brushing across the inscription on the cool stone marker.
"Here lies Dis, daughter of Thror, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain," he reads out loud as his fingers brush carefully across each rune. "Mum," he whispers softly, tears threatening to break free. "Oh, Mum; I miss you so much."
He can feel the tears as they well up and start to fall, can feel the trembling in his shoulders and the shaking in his hands, can feel the cool earth beneath his fingers as he lets them fall to the ground in front of him. He knows that he's going to loose his composure, knows with every ounce of his being, but he has to do this. He has to see them, one last time. He makes himself think of warm smiles and sweets and kisses goodnight and half whispered lullabies, makes himself remember everything he can about her, because he's already lost her; he cannot bear to forget her too.
Thorin's hand is warm and calming as it rubs gentle circles across his shoulders, but he doesn't want it. He doesn't want his uncle to intrude on this. He doesn't want him here at all. This isn't about him. It's about them, about the family they were before everything went to hell. He deftly shifts away from the contact, choosing instead to focus on his father's headstone, though he does manage to catch the hurt expression that passes across his uncle's face as he turns away.
"Tili, son of Vili," he reads quietly, his throat constricted by his tears. "I didn't even know that was his name," he half murmurs, half sobs. "Da."
Thorin reaches for him again, just barely brushes his fingertips along his tunic before Fili pulls away again.
"Stop!" he shouts. "Go away…just…go." His sobs have fully taken him over then, the careful dam he's kept on his emotions for years cracks and breaks, and he sinks down to the ground completely, fists curling in the damp ground that covers the bodies of his parents, the force of his sobs causing him to take deep, gasping breaths. It's too much. This is too much.
"Fili," his uncle calls quietly, but he pays him no mind. "Sweet Fili," he murmurs as he reaches for him again.
"NO!" Fili practically snarls as he wrenches himself free. "No; I don't want you," he snaps before curling back in on himself and sobbing brokenly. "I don't want you," he murmurs. "Want Mum….want Da…not you."
It's getting harder and harder to breathe, but Thorin blissfully backs off, and it hurts and he's sad and he just wants one more lullaby from his mother, wants one more smile from his father, wants so much that it hurts like he's being torn apart from the inside.
He wants, but he knows he'll never have them, and that makes him hurt all the more.
Thorin feels as though he's been punched in the gut, or run through by the Defiler himself. He wants to fix this, needs to fix this. He aches for Fili, positively and absolutely feels for the lad he's grown to love as his own son.
'Not your son,' his mind unhelpfully reminds. Fili had been more than clear that he'd no intentions of allowing Thorin to take the place of his father in his heart.
He's failing him. He's let himself forget that, through all of his maturity and composure, Fili is still just a boy, just thirty-four, and he'd left him to sort out his own hurts, left him without checking back in, without helping him because he'd been so damned concerned about keeping up boundaries.
'No more,' he tells himself. 'No more.'
"Fili, my boy," he murmurs and grabs for him again, this time more forcefully, and pulls him against his chest. The lad struggles, as he'd expected him to, even clocks him in the jaw with his elbow, but Thorin holds tight. He will not fail him again. "It's alright, Fili," he calls gently. "It's alright. I've got you."
It's as if he's uttered magical words, the way Fili responds. He slumps against him, a broken, strangled sob on his lips as he stops his struggling. Thorin wraps his arms tightly around him, pulls him close and rocks him gently. Fili is still sobbing, but his hands are grasping at his Uncle's clothing, trying to pull himself closer as he utters words Thorin cannot hope to ascertain.
"Shhh," he soothes, barely managing to halt the tears of relief he feels forming in his own eyes. "I've got you, Fili. I've got you. You're alright."
"It's not alright," Fili sobs against him. "They're gone. It's not alright."
He doesn't quite know what to say to that; he has to admit that the lad is correct – it's not all right. He's lost his baby sister, watched he loose the man she loved, been tasked with raising her children in her stead, not to mention how he is a King without a Kingdom. He still keeps Fili close, rocks him gently as the dwarfling sobs himself out. His eyes pass over his sister and her husband's graves and he can't help but wonder if she's disappointed in him. He knows he would be, were he in her place.
But he's tried. He's tried so hard to take care of them. He's failed them, many times, and he knows he'll fail them at least once more before his life is through, but that doesn't mean he loves them any less.
"I know," he murmurs quietly, once Fili is significantly calmer. "I know it isn't fair. I know you miss them; I miss them too," he admits. "But you must know that I love you in their place, don't you? So much, Fili. I know I can't be your father, but –"
"But you can be Kili's?" Fili interrupts, his tone harsh and accusing. "You can't be my Da but you can pretend to be Kee's all you want?"
Thorin feels completely flabbergasted. "What are you…?" His mind whirls at an increasingly rapid pace and he doesn't know what to do. He'd told Kili, he'd told him that he couldn't be his Da, told him that he could never replace their departed parents. "I don't – "
"You do!" Fili snaps back. "You coddle him and praise him and you get so, so mad at me if I hurt him. You hit me because I'd hurt him, remember?" Thorin falls into stunned silence as the lad continues his tirade, familiar guilt clawing at his insides. "You get so mad when anything happens to precious little Kili, you know? But not when something hurts me! You just tell me to be brave, to be strong. I don't want to be!" Fili's voice breaks just the tiniest bit. "I want you to coddle me and praise me and love me as much as you do Kee. Uncle, please."
"I don't…" he stumbles over his words, blindsided by Fili's admissions. "I don't love you any less than your brother, Fili…"
"He's more important to you," Fili whines as his head falls back against his uncle's chest. "You worry about him more."
"Because he's so young, and he's not like you," he explains. "You're stronger than he is, smarter at most things. I worry for him more out of necessity, not because I care more for him."
"You hit me for hurting him," Fili murmurs dejectedly. "You'd never hit him, no matter what he'd done."
Thorin can feel all of the blood drain from his face. "I…I didn't know how to bring you back to sense, Fili," he mumbles, but his reasoning sounds folly to his own ears, and he knows Fili is right. Kili's youth would have stayed his hand, no matter the situation. That incident was a prime example of how he'd messed up so many things with his boys. "My father did the same to me once, when I'd gotten so enraged at Frerin for dulling my sword. I'd been so angry and couldn't see or hear or feel anything other than my anger until he struck me and I thought…I know I shouldn't have, Fili, and I'm sorry…"
Fili shakes his head. "I know…I know about that but I just…I just want you to love me as much as Kili."
He cups the lad's tear soaked cheeks in his hands and presses their foreheads together, thumbs absently brushing across his cheekbones. "I do, Fili. I swear that I do."
Fili frowns hard at him, his eyes still watery. "You don't show it…you don't let me sleep with you after night terrors or hug me when you come home or anything like that…you don't…"
"My sweet Fili," he murmurs softly. "I didn't know you'd wanted me to. I'd thought you wanted space."
"I don't know what I want, I just…" he sighs heavily and lets his head drop instead to his uncle's shoulder. "I want Mum and Da. And I want Kili to know them – he doesn't even know them, Uncle! – and I want you to be like my Da but I don't want to forget him and I just…I don't know what to do."
"You won't forget them," he half-whispers as he presses his hand against Fili's heart. "They're right here; you'll never truly forget them, forget their love or who they were. They are with you. Always."
Fili simply nods against him and releases a shuddering breath as he curls closer to his uncle.
"And you must forgive me," he continues as he tucks his arms tighter around the lad. "My strong, brave, kind Fili, for I have failed you, haven't I?" He presses a kiss to the crown of the dwarfling's head. "I'd never wanted you to feel this way, to feel as though I didn't love you as much as your brother. I do," he assures him. "Kili's complained that I must love you more, you know?"
Fili's head snaps up at him, shock evident on his features. "How could he think that?"
"Because he hears how I speak of you when you're not around," he explains. "He knows how proud I am of you, knows how much I appreciate everything that you've done for our family. I have been remiss in showing my affections to you; I can see that now, but no more, lad. I promise."
Fili nods, clearly thrown by the thought that Kili could have ever thought their Uncle had loved him least, and winds his arms around Thorin, hugs him tightly. "M'sorry, Uncle," he whispers. "I love you."
"And I you, my boy," he murmurs and presses another kiss into the lads hair. "And I you."
It takes three more weeks for their small company to make their way to Bree. If anyone else notices the shift between the King and his Heir, they make no comment. Fili is in much higher spirits, anyhow, and it warms Thorin's heart to see the small, grateful smile that tugs at the lads lips whenever he claps a hand to his shoulder, pats him warmly on the back, or gives him an enveloping hug before sending him off to his bedroll for the night.
It's not until their first night in the tavern in Bree, after Thorin has shuffled Fili off to bed and Balin has retreated to his own room to catch up on some 'light reading,' as he'd called it, when he and Dwalin are enjoying long-awaited ales after so long on the road, that it comes up.
"He's awfully clingy lately," he murmurs, clearly doing his best to sound nonchalant, to give Thorin a way out of the conversation if he truly wanted to.
"He is," Thorin agrees. "It would seem he was under the impression that I cared more for his brother than for him."
Dwalin snorted quietly into his mug. "Never thought one of our great plights would be convincing both of them lads that you love them the same," he murmurs. "Seen you lob an orc's head clean off with one swing, but then you turn to mush in a heartbeat for those boys."
Thorin shakes his head. "Oh, and you're any better?"
Dwalin grins behind his mug. "That's different. I'm their teacher. Them lads are supposed to adore me!"
He simply shoves him hard in the shoulder, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips as he does so, one that Dwalin easily returns.
Dain arrives three days after they do. Balin spends the majority of the morning fussing over Fili, drilling him on the history he does know and reminding him of how to properly address Dain and his men. Not to mention the clothes. Fili has never worn such fine garments in his life, all warm furs and silks in rich blues, emblazoned with his crest. Balin almost makes him wear a different belt, but he holds fast to the simple, unadorned leather one that Kili had made for him not months before.
He misses his brother, more than he'd like to admit. Thorin and Dwalin do well to help him keep his mind off of it, but when he's alone and trying to sleep he wishes he had Kili's solid weight against his side, and when he braids his hair and sees the small lumps and imperfections, he wishes Kili were here to do it for him. More than anything he wonders if his brother is doing alright, wonders if he misses him too, wonders if he's grown taller or if his beard has started to come in or if he's gotten any better at his bow.
They're two parts to a whole, and the longer he spends away from him, the more his heart aches.
"There, laddie; I think you're all set now," Balin mutters as he circles around him one more time. "Are you sure about the belt? It looks so plain with the rest."
"Kee made it for me; I want to wear it," he affirms.
Balin just gives him a small smile and a nod. "Now do your best to remember everything we've talked about, and be polite. Aule knows Dwalin will offend someone the moment we get there, can't have that coming from the heir as well." His tutor claps his hands onto Fili's shoulders and fixes him with a stern gaze. "You'll make us proud, won't you, laddie?"
"I'll do my best," Fili promises, trying very hard to quell the swarm of butterflies that are churning in his stomach. Butterflies that are made worse when Balin tuts quietly under his breath and sets about fixing something with his hair.
"Stop fussing over him so," Dwalin scolds when he reenters the room. "You're just making him nervous."
"I am not fussing," Balin refutes, but still continues to adjust Fili's hair.
"You are," Thorin affirms when he steps into the room, and he gives Fili and warm smile. He's relieved to see that his uncle is similarly dressed, and for the first time in his life he sees his elder as the king he truly is. "Come, Fili. We mustn't keep our company waiting."
Fili eagerly pulls himself away from Balin's fretting to join his uncle as he steps out into the hall. He knows Thorin is anxious as well, has seen the stress building in his uncle from the moment they'd arrived in Bree. There are so many things he knows Thorin wishes were happening differently than they were, but, being a king in exile, he has little choice.
"You look like a prince," he observes as they walk along the corridor, quickly trailing down the steps and into the fresh air outside.
"You're welcome!" Balin calls out from behind them, clearly in a huff, and both Thorin and Fili snicker quietly at him.
"I'm scared," he admits quietly, walking just a bit closer to his uncle to avoid having their conversation overheard. "I don't want to let you down."
"You won't," Thorin assures him quietly as he slings an arm around his shoulders. "You make me proud enough just by bearing to be this far from home, for putting up with Dain's antics regarding your lineage, when, I should expect, this little meeting has nothing to do with you."
Fili nods, taking great comfort in the warmth of his uncle's arm across his shoulders as they step out into the chilly fall air. Dain had reserved some rooms at the Town Hall, to afford them more privacy than the Inn would, and Fili is relieved to see their three guardsmen waiting at its doors to usher them inside.
"Relax," Thorin remind him. "If you do not know what to say, say nothing. Balin and I will take care of you."
Fili just nods and sucks in a great breath as the doors to the hall are pushed open and they are led to Dain's borrowed halls.
"Ah! Thorin, my old friend! It has been many years, hasn't it?" An older dwarf greets, his hair and beard tinged with grey, smiling eyes crinkling at the corners with his arms splayed open wide in greeting. Fili almost feels comforted by him, until he notices the dark, predatory glint in his gray gaze. "Is this the lad then?" he asks, walking toward them to stand directly in front of Thorin.
"He is the son of my father's daughter," Thorin murmurs the traditional title with no small sense of pride. "He is my heir. This is Fili, son of Dis."
Dain regards him with a strange look for a moment. "Your hair coloring may be peculiar, but there is no doubting that you are you mother's son. You have her eyes and all."
Fili isn't quite sure what to say, but he settles on a quietly murmured "thank you, sir."
Abruptly, the dwarf lord straightens. "Well, he is much younger than I'd expected," Dain mutters, sounding almost exasperated as he grasps Fili's forearm in greeting. "Just how old are you, lad?"
He quickly glances to Thorin, who gives him a small nod of approval. "Thirty-four, my Lord," he answers succinctly, pleased with himself for keeping his voice from trembling. There is something about this dwarf that has set him on edge, despite the fact that he has shown no open hostility.
"My, my," Dain murmurs as he returns to his own seat and gestures for them to sit as well. The dwarf lord is flanked by two dwarrows on either side, all dressed as intimidatingly as the emissaries that had arrived in Ered Luin not so long ago. "Practically still in nappies, aren't you?"
"Were he born of some common folk, perhaps," Dwalin growls, and Balin sends him a mildly panicked look. "But Fili is still on schedule for all of his training. Ahead schedule with his weapons, actually."
"And he is well aware of the traditions and expectations of a crown prince of Erebor," Balin interjects before Dwalin can make too much of his displeasure known.
"Fine, fine," Dain murmurs as he waves him off. "What about the little one? The elfling?" He laughs under his breath, turns to his guards who return mirthful smiles. "What did you say you'd heard when you were there? That he spends more time out in the woods with a bow than in the forge? And scrawny and frail to boot." One of the guards nods the affirmative and he guffaws under his breath.
Fili has to ball his hand into a fist under the table to keep from speaking out in his brother's defense. A quick glance to his uncle at his left and Dwalin to his right proves that he is not the only one struggling to hold his tongue.
"Oh, it's nothing to beat yourself up over, Thorin," he chides. "You've got a fine enough heir in this one, I'd wager." He steeples his fingers in front of his face, eyes narrowing slightly. "You cannot expect exemplary children, not in a common marriage like that."
"My brother is a fine craftsman already and will grow to be a great hunter," Fili interjects, voice hard. "Do not speak of him as though he has no value." His fingernails and pressing half-moons into his palms and he squeezes his hands into even tighter fists.
Dain raises his hand slightly. "I mean no offence. He has fine skills for a commoner, less so for a prince."
"Yes, because a prince who can hunt and feed his people in exile is such a waste," Dwalin mutters, his voice lacking any of the carefully placed diplomacy Fili's own had held.
"Perhaps we should steer the conversation more towards your true purpose, Lord Dain?" Balin placates in an attempt to diffuse the mounting tension.
"And should these two," he gestures between Thorin and Fili, "meet an untimely end, would you feel comfortable following him as your king?" Dain asks, a small sneer on his face, clearly expecting to trip Dwalin up and catch him off guard.
"I would be proud to call him my king," Dwalin says without a second of hesitation, eyes hard as he watches Dain recline back into his chair.
"And if he truly is a half breed?" Dain all but snarls, his voice just barely tinted with the politeness diplomacy requires.
"Have care how you speak of my sons," Thorin interjects, his voice whisper quiet but razor sharp. Fili, Dwalin, and Balin turn stunned eyes to him, but Thorin keeps his gaze on Dain, who openly laughs.
"You have no sons, master Oakenshield," he reminds, his voice taking on an almost mirthful tone.
"Not by birth, no," he agrees. "But I have raised the two of them as my own since Fili was five and the younger was just a babe. They are my sons in everything but name, and to threaten or speak ill of them means you do so of me."
Dain is quiet for a long moment, his jaw working in barely suppressed anger. "Very well then."
"Speak plainly of your intentions, Dain," Thorin growls, clearly growing wary of the older dwarf's runaround. "We have traveled many hard miles to meet with you."
Dain huffs quietly under his breath and sinks back into his chair. He leans to his right and whispers with one of his guards, who nods but snickers quietly in a way that makes Fili wholly unsettled. "I only seek to mend the damage in the relationship of our great lands, Thorin," he explains.
"Funny, seeing how you're the one who damaged them," Dwalin snarks back. Fili knows that the warrior had often regarding his mother as his own sister, close as he and Thorin had been as children, and he is unsurprised at his open hostility toward the dwarf lord. Balin gives his brother a sharp glare from across their side of the table, and Fili thinks he sees the ghost of a smile of amusement flash across his uncle's face before it returns to his normal, stoic mask.
"Be that as it may," Dain continues, keeping his eyes on Thorin and clearly doing his best to pretend that Dwalin isn't even in the room; "We wish to mend those slights. We wish to foster one of your kin, for one of your lads to marry into my line and -"
"No," Thorin says sharply, without a hint of hesitation, just as Fili feels the floor drop out from underneath him.
"It would be a great honor for an exiled prince to be harbored within my halls," Dain continues, undaunted. "And a right fine thing for that wild one, at least, to let him see how a proper dwarf behaves, to get him set straight before he's too far gone."
"You're out of your blasted mind," Dwalin sneers, and Balin makes no move to shush him this time. For his part, the scholar is doing a spectacular impression of a fish, his mouth falling open and closed in clear shock. "You've got some nerve, calling us here under the pretense of peace…"
"Think, Thorin," Dain urges, "It would be good for the lad -"
"No," Fili reiterates, his voice full of harsh coldness. "You'll not have my brother." Balin had warned him of this, had spoken to him of how daughters and second sons were often seen as bargaining chips in diplomacy, yet he'd never thought it would actually happen, not to Kili, not to his baby brother.
"You truly are mad if you think I would send him to you after all of the slights you given him," Thorin all but growls. "You and your guardsmen who have openly mocked him. He will have no safety in your halls, no love, and I will not condemn my youngest to that fate."
"Condemn?" Dain stutters. "It is a great courtesy I show you, Thorin Oakenshield!"
"No," Thorin says again, slamming his palm flat down on the tabletop that separates them. "My answer is final."
"Have some sense about you -"
"His answer is final," Dwalin repeats, smirking just slightly at the way Dain mildly shrinks back from him. "Now, if you have other business for us to tend to?"
"What business could I have with a King without a Kingdom?" Dain snaps back. "You are a fool, Thorin. Fostering one of the lads would gain you favor with my kin, would give a new homeland to your people"
"My people have a homeland," Thorin interjects. "And I will reclaim it for them. I will see it done."
"What, and become Thorin Dragon Slayer instead?" the dwarf lord growls. "Smaug's desolation is terrible -"
"We have seen it with our own eyes," Balin snaps, eyes sharp and face stern as he speaks out against Dain. "We have known dragonfire and death. Do not speak to us of loss."
"The dragon is just as volatile as ever," Dain continues. "It is folly to reclaim your lost kingdom. You'll have to wait until it dies, and that dragon will far outlive you."
"You know not of what you speak," Thorin continues calmly. "Erebor will be mine once more. I will avenge the deaths of my father and grandfather, of my sister and brother; I will have my revenge upon that worm."
"You've gone mad," Dain declares, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "That old wizard has spun some insane ideas into your head. He would see you dead before you sat on the throne of Erebor."
Fili blinks up at his uncle in surprise. A wizard? He'd only heard stories of them; had never even seen one in person, but apparently his uncle was conversing with one? The wizard had certainly never been to Ered Luin; the townsfolk would have talked of nothing else and surely Fili would have heard.
"You needed concern yourself with my plans," Thorin mutters coldly. "Nor the fate of my lads. I had hoped that we could see eye to eye about these matters, but if you are insistent on being so stubborn -"
"I am the Lord of the Iron Hills!" Dain practically roars as he hastily stands and slams his palms on the table. "You are nothing more than an exiled king, with no hope of providing for his subjects. You can give them nothing, but I can. I offer you sanctuary, Thorin, sanctuary for your people, for a better way of life! Do not be as foolish as your grandfather was."
Thorin is quiet for a moment, thoughtfully chewing on his cheek. Dain calms significantly and sinks back down into his hair, hands tented expectantly in front of his face. The barest hint of a smile pulls at his lips; he must think he's won.
"It is a generous offer," Thorin concedes, and Fili feels panic clawing at his insides. He couldn't, Thorin just couldn't send Kili away. "But you ask for a life that is not mine to give. You ask me to take a boy who has lost so very much, to take what small joys he has and extinguish them. You ask to tamper his soul, to change him from who he is, to destroy everything he is and could ever be. You ask for something I cannot give you, though I would not give it to you even if it were mine to share."
Fili breathes out a breath he'd not realized he'd been holding in relief, just as Dain's face pinches in frustration. "You truly are a fool," he sneers finally. "Go on then; out with you! I've nothing more to discuss with stubborn, mad kings today!" His guardsmen rise to their feet, hands positioned loosely over their weapons as if they are anticipating a fight. "We can reconvene tomorrow; perhaps you'll have your wits about you then."
"My answer will be the same tomorrow," Thorin reminds him. "And it will be the same for all days forward. If you've called us here with the sole intention of fostering one of my lads, then you will leave disappointed, no matter how long we drag this out."
Dain narrows his eyes. "Your madness aside, I have much more pressing matters to discuss with you and your scholar," he mumbles. "You'll not need to bring the boy or your guard dog tomorrow."
Dwalin is immediately on his feet, but Thorin reaches straight across Fili, arm moving lightning fast, to grab him and yank him back down into his seat. A small, self-satisfied smirk sneaks its way onto Dain's face, and Fili feels his stomach churn in disgust. This isn't at all how he'd expected their meeting to go down. He'd thought he would be tested on his skills and knowledge, as Balin had told him was commonplace before an heir is officially announced, not to hear about some underhanded scheme to swindle himself or his brother away from their uncle.
Thorin nods his assent to Dain's terms for the next day before rising gracefully from his seat and striding out of the room. Every step he takes exudes confidence, and Fili finds himself hoping against hope that he will one day be able to simply walk and show his authority. For now, he simply bows his head respectfully toward the Lord of the Iron Hills before following obediently after his uncle.
Dwalin is digging for his pipe and lighting it the second they are out in the fresh air. "The nerve of that bastard," he all but snarls. "To think he has some claim to Kili's youth, that he has some obligation to foster him out of the goodness of his heart and fix him."
A quick glance to his uncle shows that he is no less frustrated, but he turns to Dwalin and half-whispers, "Keep your voice down. We do not know what spies he may have brought with him."
Dwalin still grumbles something under his breath in Khuzdul. "He's right, brother," Balin chimes in. "He wants to see what Fili is made of. I have no doubts that he's got eyes all over this town, so you'd best be on your best behavior. The both of you," he adds, with a small wink at Fili.
"He can't just take Kili, can he?" Fili murmurs under his breath as he catches up to his uncle. "I mean, if he really wanted to?"
Thorin shakes his head as he lays his arm across Fili's shoulders and pulls him closer so they can speak even quieter. "He cannot," he whispers. "I had not in my wildest dreams imagined that to be his plan."
"Do you think he's got something bigger planned?" Fili murmurs back, suddenly wondering which of the dwarves and men and halflings milling about the marketplace could be in liege with Dain.
"Time will tell, lad," is all he says in reply. "Time will tell."
It's been two months. Two months of absolutely crushing boredom in Bree. He and Dwalin have not been invited to any more meetings, and Balin and Thorin speak little of their dealings with Dain, but Fili has noticed his uncle becoming more and more frustrated, more and more distant as the days pass. He spends his days sparring and weapons training with Dwalin in as public of places as they can manage, and Fili's started to notice which of the 'villagers' are actually under Dain's thumb. He reads his history books and scrolls in public places as well, does his best to put on the show of a sound, respectful heir that he knows Dain is looking for.
But at the end of the day, he is tired and heartsick for his brother.
Finally, one night when he can stand it no longer, he crawls into Thorin's bed while his elder is reading and tucks himself into his side. He feels small and scared and he wants to go home. Thorin must sense it in him, as he shifts about slightly, freeing up one arm to wrap around his heir.
"I want to go home," Fili murmurs finally, pressing his face into his uncle's chest. He can feel tears pricking at the backs of his eyes, so he squeezes them shut instead.
Thorin's hand shifts to comb through his hair, and he's quiet for a long time. "So do I," he murmurs finally. "Soon enough, though; I should hope."
"Is everything okay?" he summons up the courage to ask. "You haven't said a word."
"You are young still," Thorin mumbles. "You needn't be troubled by such dark things."
"But Kili is safe?" he asks, feeling small and weak and stupid because if he can't protect his brother from this then what can he?
Thorin leans down to press a kiss against his forehead. "Kili is safe, and will stay that way, just as I promised you," he soothes. "As are you. Dain's been quite pleased with what he's heard of you. Damn near passed you a compliment this morning, actually."
Fili nearly glows with pride. "Really?" he asks, not quite believing his uncle's words but trusting his elder not to lie to him all the same.
"Really," Thorin murmurs. "I know I haven't said as much, but...I am proud of you, Fili"
Thorin's arm nudges him just a bit closer and he wraps his arms around him in a warm hug. He knows this trip has changed things for them, has afforded them a new closeness that he hadn't even noticed he's missed for so long. The warmth of that thought eventually lulls him into a deep and restful sleep, happy with the knowledge that his uncle will keep them both safe and protected as well as he can.
Two weeks later and their dealings with Dain are finished. It's been a mild winter in Bree, and a week after that Balin suggests that the mountain roads should be cleared enough for them to travel home. Three weeks into their journey, Fili finds himself uncontrollably excited to see his little brother again. He knows he's missed so much, is anxious to see how Kili's grown, desperate to grab him and hug him and hold him close and tell him how he's been such and idiot, because he has been, for all this time. His heart feels lighter than it has in years.
They're nearly to Gondamon when the ravens come.
The first one comes in the morning, straight to Balin. His tutor's face pales considerably once he reads it, and he urges Thorin and the rest of their company off the road.
"Thorin," he hisses, panic clear in his voice. "Read this," he demands, passing the parchment through shaking hands to his king.
Fili doesn't start to panic until the color drains from Thorin's face as well. "This is dated yesterday," he breathes, disbelief clear in his voice. "This is...how far are we yet?"
"At least a week's ride, my lord," one of the guardsmen answers. "Has something happened?"
Dwalin, clearly fed up with being kept in the dark, snatches the parchment fro Thorin's hand, and Fili practically scrambles to his side to read over his shoulder. He is absolutely positive that his entire world crashes down around him as he reads.
"Thorin, son of Thror, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain:
Last eve, a horde of orcs overran the town of Fairfield. We can see the fires even from the settlement, and the smoke is thick in the air, thick enough to block out the sun. We fear they may come for us next; the winter has left us weakened and our resources low. We are preparing for battle as I write. Please, if you can, make haste to return home.
Nar"
"Orcs?" he breathes out, scarcely believing what he's read. Not at the settlement; not at their home; not again. A feeling of despair crawls up his spine. They are a week away; they would never make it back in time and Kili - "Kili!" he shouts out, grasps frantically at his uncle's sleeve. "Uncle, we have to go!"
Thorin simply nods, his face a blank mask as he mounts his pony and spurs it back onto the road. They're too far away; they'll never make it in time to help. He chances a glance around at their small company and can't take the concern and the fear he sees on all of their faces. He wants to scream, wants to curse everything because he's finally, finally found his happiness and he can feel it slipping away from him like ash through his hands.
They ride hard and fast, pushing the ponies to their absolute limits before stopping to rest. The second raven arrives just at dusk, and it makes Fili's chest constrict, robs him of the ability to breathe for several long moments as blackness creeps in on his vision.
Three words, scrawled across the parchment in unusually sloppy writing from their governor.
"They have come."
I'm not even sorry at all. Love you, my dears!