A/N: Originally this story was set in Modern Universe, but since fairy-tale elements prevail over everything else anyway, it can also be interpreted as a canon-based fairy-tale.
Inspired by the following prompt:"Getting lost in the Land of Still Time wasn't their smartest idea, but at least it was an idea." 'Getting lost' has a slightly different meaning in the story, but, if asked, Fili and Kili would certainly agree that they were lost :D
Their lives were a collection of moments. Smiling. Laughing. Trying. Doubting. Trying again. Sometimes it was a swirl, sometimes a blizzard, and sometimes a sky with subtle, barely recognizible cloud patterns. It was everything they wished it to be. Every emotion, every gesture was reflected with the accuracy of a copy and filed, painstakingly stored away until further notice.
Fili and Kili had no knowledge of that, or if they did, it wasn't conscious. For them, it was a life. A spontaneous unfiltered life, not even enough for an entertaining story. They were entertaining enough, though, In fact, that quality came as naturally to them as inhaling and exhaling (apart from the times when they were suffering from a bad case of hungover and temporarily forgot how to breathe).
Knowing each other well. It could have been an official definition of their relationship. They weren't just brothers. They were also the closest friends. Not the most original beginning to a tale, but they could hardly be blamed for the lack of originality. If Fili were to be asked, he'd readily confirm a very non-trivial quality of Kili's character. Kili would probably offer a milder version as regards Fili, but it would still be as far from boredom as humanly possible. Predictability never seemed to touch them. It shattered somewhere close. Close enough to leave a subtle reminder of its presence, but never to actually affect. The pieces fell under their feet and mixed with snow, or leaves, depending on the season.
Often enough, it was a battle of wills, but never actual fights that drew blood, or tears. They'd cried, but never from the emotional pain caused by the other. And even if they did, it was healed so quickly that tears remained just what they were, never turning into regret, resentment, or hate. These words didn't exist for them, and the truth of that warmed them up on the coldest winter nights.
Undisturbed and enchanted by unspoken happiness, they slept peacefully, until the morning brought them the luxury of yet another day, predictable in each other's steadiness, but never in emotions.
They hadn't heard of any other lands, save for the ones in fairytales. And like any reasonable people, they were taught that fairytales weren't meant to be believed. At least not completely. Still, they were too high-spirited and curious to refuse a chance at a discovery. A little imagination could never hurt, after all.
That discovery, not exactly encouraged but not discouraged either, started with yet another brand of fairytales – a much more common, mundane kind which involved Places That Could Change Things. Kili used to laugh at the title and even tried re-naming it a couple of times, but Fili preferred to speculate about the places themselves. Where were they? How could they get there? They'd never seen one in their lives, and yet their level of credibility seemed to surpass that of beautiful but deceptive fairytales. Frogs didn't turn into princesses (which was at one point proved practically by Kili), Christmas Ghosts didn't come at Christmas, and mirrors-portals were frankly boring when you stared at them long enough. Soon enough, Fili and Kili stopped bothering with such things, but the fascination with the Places never quite went away. It stayed, silent and unassuming, lulling them to sleep every night and shaping their dreams, never pushy, but insistent enough so it couldn't be forgotten behind the veil of adult matters.
Soon, they noticed a peculiar thing: age didn't seem to touch them. They existed somewhere outside of its pull. They weren't exactly children, but they weren't adults, either, and it never bothered them. They didn't count days, and they didn't count years. Fili's happiness was in seeing his brother's smile, and Kili could not imagine a day in his life without looking up to the one who, in his eyes, was everything. Their happiness was elevating. Beautiful. Daring. But also it was addictive. It tended to replace things that could've been important otherwise. And as it happened, time was just one of those things, pushed to the back of their minds and left alone, equipped only for gathering dust.
Their days were their bursts of energy, with the highest points being marked as 'mornings' and the lowest labeled 'evenings'. Their years began and ended when they noticed little, almost invisible changes in one another.
Every year, these changes became more and more subtle, to the point that they could no longer see them. They still had their senses but that was hardly enough. Their peace began to rebel against them, bringing worry and disquiet in its wake. Once seen, time could no longer remain invisible. Instead, it began to gnaw at them.
They've never seen clocks, but now they were hungering for these. Suddenly, a subtle ticking of seconds made its way into their minds and stayed, increasingly insistent and threatening.
"Do you feel it, Fili?"
Fili looked at Kili and nodded, fervently wishing he didn't have to.
A flicker of hope in Kili's eyes died down and he lowered his head.
"It's not like it used to be," he added, in the same hushed, almost cautious tone.
Fili released a tense breath. There were hundreds of consolations on his mind, but he had no desire to give voice either of them. They were all meaningless and Kili would be just as incapable of believing in them as he was.
"I'm angry all the time. Or sad. I think I want… a change."
At the last word Kili's voice subdued to nearly a whisper and he shook his head, as if in an attempt to drive the peculiar thought away. Fili would probably agree that such a thought was most peculiar, that is if that same thought hadn't nestled in his own head.
They never needed changes. Not before. Not ever.
But now, his own short-temperedness mirrored Kili's, which was an explosive combination in and of itself, and he began to wonder if they indeed needed something different. A change.
"I think we should go on an adventure," he said, vaguely surprised to hear his own suggestion.
Kili's eyes sparkled and his whole body relaxed, as if he was offered an unexpected lifeline.
Fili wasn't sure it was a lifeline. He wasn't even sure it was something at all. But they would try it together. Whatever the outcome, it would still be better than their increasingly ferocious rows. Kili got headaches from these, whereas Fili was no less generously gifted with sleep-deprivation, as a direct consequence of his mostly useless attempts to simultaneously lull Kili to sleep and battle his own guilty feelings.
"To see the Places?"
A sparkle in Kili's eyes made it very hard to say no. Fili never entertained the idea. Not even as a joke. And now they were going to go and see almost surely mythical Places because they both needed a distraction. However unreasonable that desire was, Fili preferred not to think of it as a change.
"If you show the way," he said, allowing a hint of teasing enter his voice.
Kili puffed at the challenge but eventually retrieved an old-looking map and presented it proudly to Fili.
Fili fought a chuckle and made himself really look. It seemed to be one of these things they were playing with when they were children. When. Fili paused at the word, suddenly uneasy. As long as he could remember, they had never divided their lives into stages. There was no childhood, teenage years or adulthood. It was just them, Fili and Kili, together.
One impatient sleeve tag later, Fili forced himself to focus once again. They had never wandered farther than their immediate surroundings allowed. Come to think of it, they'd never even considered what might exist beyond. There was a forest nearby, and Kili had always joked about its magical qualities. "I bet it has portals to other worlds," he would say, ironic and enthusiastic in equal measure, and Fili would shake his head in a mock agreement. "Yes, and I think I'll make use of them some day," he would say, evoking loud protests from an indignant Kili. The feeling of unease returned once more and Fili hurried to pay attention to the map. Kili didn't need to know of his thoughts.
Unsurprisingly, there was a forest sign on the map. In fact, it was so detailed that there was almost no place left for anything else.
"You see? It all here. Here are the Places and these little dots… I have no idea what they mean but I bet it's something magical!"
Fili did intuitively realize the danger of wandering near the places that didn't even have a name, or any rational indication of what they might be, but he consoled himself with the thought that a nice long walk would be enough of an adventure to satisfy their appetite for novelty.
Predictably, the forest was dark and imposing, although not imposing enough to make it possible to convince Kili turn around and go seek a more cheerful place.
"No. I want to see Places," he said, with a hint of a sulk in his voice, and that was both beginning end of Fili's arguments.
In part, he wanted to write it off as typical Kili stubbornness, take the usual indulging route and think no more of it. But he also knew that his initial suggestion to take the walk (which he had unwisely labeled 'an adventure') wasn't born out of sheer boredom and such. Kili had a very real need for it. And so did he, although, having failed to find a rational explanation for it, he was reluctant to admit that truth.
Contrary to Kili's expectations, they kept encountering nothing otherworldly or even unusual. Fili said nothing, but that didn't help prevent Kili's agitation. If anything, it seemed to fuel it.
"Nothing! And do you know why? Because you are not looking hard enough!"
"I am not looking?"
"Well, who else? You didn't want to go on this adventure in this first place."
"If I remember correctly, I was the one who suggested it."
A short pause, then, "But you are not taking it seriously! You probably think of it as a walk or something."
"If you seriously expect to find a portal to a different realm, then yes, a walk at least sounds sa… reasonable."
"What?"
"What?"
"You didn't say what you were going to say. Was it 'sane'? Do I not seem sane to you?"
"At the moment? Not really, no."
"Well, then you don't seem… "
"Yes?"
Kili answered with an angry sniff. Fili decided that waiting it out would be the best course of action.
"You never used to choose your words before. What happened, Fili? What happened to us?"
The usual 'nothing' nearly left his lips when the ground under their feet became suddenly wobbly. It didn't fall down creating a pit, which was Fili's fear for half a second. Instead, it kept swinging right and left, as if eager to turn around, erasing the line between sky and ground. The ticking in their heads intensified. They didn't become bigger or smaller. There was no change in physical appearance whatsoever. But their heads were suddenly filled with images of the past. Things that would never be repeated again. Things that would find their grave at the back of their minds. Things that would never be alive again.
Wrapped in his brother's arms, Kili couldn't keep a terrified expression from his face. "What is happening?" he whispered, trying hopelessly to find comfort in evoking a familiar response. Fili knew which response Kili was waiting for, but he couldn't bring himself to give it. It wasn't nothing. And it wasn't okay. Because nothing could be the same anymore.
They tried running away, of course they did. They weren't held back or squashed. They were still able to run. But they couldn't reach anything. They could as well be running on a single spot, with exact same non-existent result.
When they were brought to consciousness, by some noise or by their own recovering bodies, they were at what used to be their home. They could still recognize it, but it no longer gave them feelings of peace or safety.
It no longer seemed spacious or cozy. No longer theirs.
They wandered around for a bit, trying to busy themselves with usual things but nothing seemed to work. Their restlessness, previously subdued, was now at the very core of their being.
They still held each other at night, but they could no longer sleep. Thoughts of missed opportunities, wasted years clouded their throats and rendered them silent with frustration and helpless anger.
They still made tea, finding scrapes of comfort in the familiar routine, but it went cold more often than it was drunk.
There was no more ticking in their heads but the clocks made up for that, creating a tormenting cacophony and only going silent when all patience was lost and one of the brothers exploded in a string of harsh words. When thrown away, the clocks seemed to gain all the more enthusiasm. Whatever the distance, they never stayed away for long. Eventually, Fili and Kili abandoned these useless attempts.
They now had days and nights, measured by a fixed number of hours, but these hours were no longer theirs. Their life was no longer theirs.
Idleness killed them, and yet they couldn't concentrate on anything long enough to forget about the slowly trickling sand that took away tiny chunks of their lives, rushing them to the inevitable ending. They tried not to think about that, but the effort made them all the more tired and frustrated.
They still laughed, but it was a bitter laughter.
They still loved each other, but there was a feeling of tragic finiteness to it.
And when they tried to leave their house, they realized they there was nothing but their house. The forest they had once entered died down leaving behind a couple of twisted trees. There was no blank page or an abyss but, no matter the direction, they couldn't reach any destination. Their only destination was a sad, prison-like house that only produced enough sustenance to keep them alive.
"It's not going to be okay, is it?"
Fili swallowed, indifferently noting a burning sensation in his throat.
He had no idea how their paradise could transform into pure hell in matter of… days? Was that what he was supposed to call them now? Days. He still couldn't see much point in them. Apart from intensifying their suffering, that is.
But Kili knew that. Kili knew all of that. And most of all, he knew that there could be but one answer to that question. Still, believing in his older brother, he also dared to believe that that answer will be changed.
Fili wrapped his arms around Kili and pulled him close. He didn't want to look in Kili's eyes and receive a confirmation of the realness of wet trickles on his cheeks. He didn't think he could bear that.
"No, it isn't."
Fili and Kili awoke with a start, hungrily gasping for air.
Kili's eyes were wide and scared, which was the direct opposite of his usual soft 'I've just woken up, no quick movements' demeanor.
Fili tried to steady his own breathing and was just successful enough not to go into yet another coughing fit when Kili flew into his arms and made his ribs crack.
"Shh. It's okay. I'm here," Fili whispered, finding unexpected comfort in the sound of his own voice.
It would be silly to think that they had the same dream, but they were both seeing something that night and it frightened them both. Usually, Fili was the one quieting Kili's irrational fears after a nightmare, but today his own irrational fears yearned to be quieted.
And Kili didn't disappoint. Nothing could offer Fili more comfort than the sensation of a heavy head pressed into his neck. He let out a long sigh and cuddled Kili closer still.
"It wasn't real, was it, Fee?"
He probably should have asked what 'it' was, but that seemed too irrelevant to even bother with a question.
"Of course not. Dreams are never real."
Kili nodded and suddenly lifted his head. Fili half-expected yet another question of a similar kind but what he heard created questions in his own head.
"We had the same dream, didn't we? You were afraid to say 'no' to me and I… well, I made you sad. I'm sorry!"
Now, Kili's hold was less desperate and seemed more like a hug rather than the iron grip from before, but that didn't soothe Fili's nerves in the slightest.
"How do you kn-?" he began, caught himself half-word and added, "I mean, we couldn't have the same dream. Is it even possible?"
"I don't know," Kili answered easily. "You were scared. You're never scared. I'm the one being frightened by nightmares. But you were, and I just thought-"
"That I could only be scared by one thing," Fili finished, all puzzle pieces suddenly in place.
"Uh-huh. You're always brave and strong. And you always know what to do."
Suddenly bashful, Fili tried to interrupt but a surprisingly forceful glint in Kili's eyes made him pause.
"Don't argue. You know it's true."
Fili argued some more but then decided that there were worse things to be called.
"But I wasn't brave in this… well, whatever it was."
"You were."
"No."
"You tried to protect me, so you were."
Stubbornness made its way back to Kili's voice and Fili had to fight an involuntary grin.
A long silence followed, interrupted only by the sound of breathing.
"It wasn't because of you. Or because of us. That place was evil."
Fili paused before answering. He had no idea what it was or why they had seen it, and it wasn't the most useful of activities to mull over a nightmare, but, just like Kili's, his mind refused to let go of it so easily.
"Not entirely, though. It was good at first," he said.
Kili sighed, as if reluctant to agree. Fili also felt a vague desire to simply write the whole thing off as a nonsensical work of subconsciousness but something was holding him back.
"It was. It reminded me of when we were kids. When we did nothing but played all day. Do you remember?" Kili asked, an undertone of nostalgia entering his voice.
"Well, not much of a change for you then," Fili retorted.
Kili gave him a light punch on the arm, smiling for the first time since they woke up or, more precisely, since they were unceremoniously thrown into wakefulness.
"Do you miss these days?" Kili asked, covering uncertainty in his voice with rhythmic tugging at Fili's sleeve.
"Of course I do." Fili answered. "But I also don't. Things are supposed to end."
Kili echoed him and went silent, but Fili knew it wasn't the end of it.
"And what happens if they don't?"
"I don't know. But it's not natural. We can't exist outside time."
They never discussed such topics before and Fili had half a mind to simply change the subject to something less philosophical. But seriousness in Kili's eyes advised him against it.
"But we will still be happy, won't we? When we get older, when we… change?"
Now, Fili wasn't afraid of consoling words because nothing could be closer to truth.
"Maybe even happier than we are now. Who knows? I don't. But the good news is that we certainly won't have to live like hermits."
Kili nodded fervently.
"Yeah. I kind of like being able to see my mom. And uncle. And well… everyone else, although they can be quite annoying at times."
Fili laughed a clear, relieved laugh and patted Kili's back, which Kili pretended not to enjoy.
"Not as annoying as you, though."
Kili tried, unsuccessfully, to wriggle out of his grasp. But when Fili settled him and hugged him again, all protests seemed to die down in an instant.
"Do you wonder what happens next? In the dream, I mean?"
"No," Kili answered, too quickly.
"Of course you do. But only if there is a happy ending. Right?"
Kili gave him a grateful look and snuggled closer.