To all the lovely people who have read this. Hello!
Disclaimer: I dast not put any claim on this. In other words, I do not claim to own, what I do not own.
Chapter three.
They ate lunch on the road. Only stopping an hour before sunset to set up camp. Fíli volunteered to make supper, and Kíli quickly completed his minor chores.
He took the rest of the time before supper to familiarize himself with his new weapons.
He walked out of sight of the camp, he didn't want any questions about his sudden new skills. He hefted the sword. It was amazingly balanced, like all the things his uncle made.
He took a few experimental swings with it, immediately he winced. While he had been given some sword lessons, he didn't have the muscle memory that had come from years of practice, as his old body did.
As he did one of the signature moves he had used over the years, he felt his body protest. He looked at himself in anger. He was young and strong, but not near as coordinated or fast as he had been. He huffed and began to test the limits of his new body.
At first, he was careful not to overtax himself, but soon his anger won over.
He was in a battle. He stabbed at imaginary orcs, jumped over the snapping mouths of wargs, his muscles protesting the speed and strength his mind demanded of them.
He whirled around. He could almost see the flash of red hair as he imagined someone fighting with him. He thrust and twirled his sword, his breath steady. At least he could still control his breathing.
Then he stabbed the leader of the orcs. The battle was won.
He fell to his knees panting. He almost expected a voice that belonged to a red-haired elf to call out to him. They had fought many battles together.
His sight cleared. There was no orcs, no wargs, and no Tauriel. He sighed and wiped away the tears that had sprung to his eyes. He missed her so much it hurt. He imagined how she would come over to him. They would sit there resting in companionable silence. Then she would collect her arrows and clean them, while he did the same to his weapons.
A twig snapped and he was on his feet in an instant, sword ready.
His sword whipped around to point at Dwalin. The dwarf was watching him with an unreadable expression.
Kíli put his sword down. "Sorry." He said, "Reflexes you know?"
Dwalin hummed. "Fíli says the food's ready."
"Alright."
Now that the adrenaline was fading, Kíli felt his sore and aching muscles. For a minute he regretted pushing himself so hard. He would be sore tomorrow.
As Kíli started into the clearing, Dwalin held a hand in front of him. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
Kíli winced inside. He had hoped that Dwalin hadn't seen him.
Dwalin continued. "You were fighting like you were in a battle Kíli. I could even see the spots you were leaving open for someone fighting by you. You used moves I have never seen before. I thought I was the one who taught you everything you knew about a sword." Dwalin looked at him, his eyes serious. "Where did you learn to fight like that."
Kíli met Dwalin's eyes. Unconsciously he straightened his shoulders and held his head high. It was the proud stance of a king. A warrior.
Kíli had no answer. He couldn't tell the truth, and he wasn't going to lie. He opened his mouth, "I can't tell you that."
Kíli pushed past the surprised dwarf and into the clearing.
Fíli looked up at his brother. Kíli grabbed a bowl and spooned himself some stew. He sat down by his brother. "What's made you so down?" Fíli asked him.
Kíli looked at his brother in surprise. "I'm not upset, just serious."
He gestured to his bowl. "This is very good by the way." It was good. Not the best he had ever eaten, but certainly better than the worst.
Fíli laughed, "Since when did you become serious, or like my cooking?" "I didn't like it?" Kíli said bewildered. "Oh yes," Dwalin interrupted, "You would always complain when Fíli cooked, said it tasted burnt."
Kíli ate his next spoonful slowly, savoring it. "It may be a little toasty around the edges, but not burnt."
He smiled at his brother. "You must be getting better!" Kíli grabbed the others bowls and the empty pot. "I'll go wash these up." "I'll come help," Fíli said, getting to his feet. Kíli shrugged.
The two brothers went to the stream they had camped by. Kíli rolled up his sleeves and plunged his hands into the water. He grabbed a handful of sand and began to scrub the pot clean.
"Kíli." His brother said. Kíli stilled, his brother only used that tone of voice when he was very serious.
He stopped scrubbing and looked at Fíli. "Yes?"
"Kíli you've changed."
"What do you mean?" Kíli said jokingly.
His brother looked at him irritated, "You know what I mean. You act different, more mature. It's like you are the older one!"
Kíli looked at the stream.
His brother put a hand on his shoulder. "Kíli, I see you look at me out of the corner of your eye, as if to make sure I am still there. On the day of the quest," His brother shifted. "You asked if this was the afterlife! What happened Kee?"
Kíli sighed. He had never kept anything from his brother before, but what was he supposed to do? Should he tell Fíli and see what his reaction would be? He admitted it would be nice to have another person who could help carry the burden. But... should he really dump more responsibilities on his brother?
Kíli looked at his waiting brother. He sighed. "Alright." He said. "I'll tell you some of it."
At Fíli's protest that he should tell all, Kíli held up his hand. "I will tell some, but not all."
Kíli looked at his sandy hand. He stuck it back into the water.
He cleared his throat. Hoping to clear away the lump that was there.
"This is what happened." Kíli's voice cracked. He looked at his brother with tears in his eyes, "You died. You and Thorin. "
What...I wanted to get a chapter up. Look it is only a thousand words. Oh well, I try to make my chapters at least that long, so feel privileged at my grand generosity. Here is a virtual cookie made out of pixels. It is useless and worthless. You cannot eat it, you cannot taste it, and so on. \('-')/ P. S. Thanks for reading. :)