Hi again! I'm glad people are liking this so far.
So this chapter doesn't have a lot of action, it's mostly here to set up the action for the rest of the story. Kind of like a Wednesday. Or Sean Bean's death in the Game of Thrones. Or cannoli cake in front of a yoyo dieter.
What?
Forgive any grammar errors, I'm tired and didn't proof read.
Notes and translations at the end.
Happy reading!
2
Iron Head
"We're nearly there!" Petry cried, pointing to the plethora of rooftops in the distant valley. Fíli whooped happily and slapped Kíli's good shoulder.
"Finally," the blonde laughed. Gimli gave a throaty cheer through a mouth full of bread, spraying crumbs on Ori's shoulder.
"Aw, Gimli," he whined, brushing them off, "Show some tact."
Gimli looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "Shorry," he replied, this time spraying crumbs in Ori's face. Millí chuckled quietly to herself and got a light punch on the arm from her cousin.
Fíli's smile was stretched wide as he anticipated all the delicious food that would be available to them once they hit town. Jerky and stale bread lose their appeal after one meal. "What should we eat first, Kee?"
Glancing at his brother wiped the smile from Fíli's face. The younger dwarf had his eyes trained straight ahead and a frown etched on his face that had been there for nearly two days. He looked exhausted and furious all at the same time. "Kíli?"
"I don't care very much Fíli," he said flatly, "Sorry."
"What is with you?" Millí groaned in exasperation. Fíli kept his eyes on his brother whose face didn't seem to react to anything they said. He touched his fingers to his brother's forehead to see if he had a fever, but didn't feel any unusual heat on his skin. Kíli jerked away from his touch a second later with a grimace.
"Stop it, would you? I'm fine. A person's allowed to be in a bad mood every once in a while."
"Yeah but you're in a horrible mood."
"And have been," Gimli added.
Ori was quick to chime in. "For two days."
Kíli rolled his eyes but did not look at them. "Well, if it's such a bother to you than don't talk to me and I won't have to answer. Problem solved." With that he quickened his pace until he was walking next to Petry, his friends staring blankly at his back.
"It isn't just me, right?" Millí asked them, "He's not normally this way even when he is angry about something?"
Fíli shook his head, his eyes still on Kíli's hair. "I think it's best we just give him some space. It never helps to ask a grumpy person why they're grumpy."
"Is it because of that bite?" Ori pondered, "I'm sure it must itch. I got poison ivy once and it itched terribly. I was so unpleasant that Nori would sit on me until I stopped griping."
Fíli sighed and watched Brent approach them. "I don't know, just drop it," he muttered before turning his full attention to the large man before him. "Good day, Master Brent."
"Mhm," he grunted in reply. Fíli bit his cheek to avoid commenting on the man's manners. "You're the guide, we need to know which pass to take to get to the valley."
"Oh, I see," Fíli replied in his best diplomatic voice. "Let's have a look then."
When they arrive at the intersection, Kíli was already there talking to Petry. Fíli examined the three paths momentarily and then pointed to the one in the middle. "We should take that one," he said decidedly. Honestly, he wasn't sure. But all the paths would eventually lead to the village, so it was better to sound confident and accidentally take the longer path than sound doubtful and lose the trust of the merchants.
"No, we should take the one on the left, it's safer," Kíli retorted, sounding irritable. Fíli looked at him in surprise and then anger. If he had to deal with his brother's bad attitude one more time—
"We take the one in the middle, Kíli." Fíli tried to control his voice, but he definitely sounded frustrated. "It's not dangerous. And it's faster."
I think.
"There's no reason to take that one," Kíli hissed, "Even if it is faster, the road is a distaster. We'll break all the wagon wheels and waste more time repairing them than we would on a somewhat longer, safer trek."
"How do you know? How do you know the difference between the paths, Kíli? Have you walked them all when we had our backs turned?"
The dark haired dwarf glared at him through his eyelashes, his frown deepening. "No, I haven't. I remember Thorin talking about it when he went over the map with us."
Fíli scoffed and shook his head. "You never pay attention when Thorin gives instructions. I remember him saying that all the paths will work, and that this one's fastest." He turned and addressed Brent and Petry, who were watching the exchange with careful expressions. "We're taking the middle one," Fíli said firmly. Then he turned back and looked at Kíli, "End of discussion."
He walked away so that he wouldn't have to feel Kíli's eyes boring into him anymore.
He'll come around. He just needs to sleep in a real bed and eat real food.
Unfortunately for Fíli, Kíli had been right.
Of course he was right, Fíli thought bitterly as yet another wagon wheel shattered. This one time, the one time he actually paid attention and now I look like an idiot.
"It's alright laddie," Bofur offered kindly, "I can see the village now, it's much closer than before."
Fíli shrugged and cleared his throat, "Of course it is, I wouldn't steer us wrong."
If Bofur thought he was full of it, he didn't say so. Fíli replaced the fifth broken wheel of the day and swatted the mule's rump so that the wagon lurched forward. It kicked up dirt from the road, which kindly sprayed Fíli in the face.
Perfect.
"I will walk wherever I please, thank you!"
Kíli's raised voice made Fíli forget his irritation. He politely dodged the merchants who were walking ever forward until he found Kíli face to face with a very impatient looking Brent. A few younger dwarves were watching nervously while Brent's companions kept their faces trained ahead.
"I don't like your attitude, dwarfling," Brent growled dangerously. "I think you think you're a big man now, but let me tell ya' somethin' boy, it'd take me two seconds to teach ya otherwise," Brent lowered himself further so that his nose was an inch from Kíli's, "And I'm not opposed to teachin'."
"What's going on here?" Fíli interrupted, much to the relief of the younger onlookers. Kíli's face with rouged with anger and looked almost severe as the icy glare delivered by his taller advisory. Brent addressed Fíli, but the intensity of his fury did not waver.
"Your brother is asking to be beat, that's what."
Try humor. Humor helps diffuse tension.
"Well, I'd say I don't believe it but he's always been that way," Fíli smiled with a shrug, "Unfortunately, you don't have the authority to give it to him. Has he done anything illegal?"
"Don't take that tone with me," Brent hissed, "You're both children and nothin' more. You were hired to guide us to the village and to defend the camp, nothing more. And I don't take orders from hired hands."
Brent stormed off, leaving a red-faced Kíli glaring after him. Anger boiled up in Fíli but he suppressed it.
"Kíli, take a walk," he finally said. "Get into another argument and I won't stop them from delivering vigilante justice."
"Guz mahumub," his brother hissed.
Fíli's face flushed and his anger threatened to boil over. "Ühybîr, nadad—"
But Kíli was gone before he could finish is sentence. Fíli debated chasing after him and teaching him a lesson himself, but he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Master Fíli my boy," Demetrius bellowed, "We have one more spare wheel and we're almost at the village. I believe we'll make it after all!"
Demetrius was the rather-loud-but-friendly-enough leader of the colorful merchant wagons. He had strong arms and a round belly with a fit of brown whiskers. Fíli allowed himself to be pulled away and led to the front of the caravan once more. The village was not a mile off now with its strong gates blocking off the view of most of the houses.
"Great," Fíli began diplomatically, "Once we reach the—STOP!"
Fíli's hand shot out, smacking Demetrius's belly.
"What in the name of—"
"Look, Master Demetrius."
A massive black and silver snake was frozen in the path, its sinister head turned towards the robust man. "Three more steps and I would've been dead!" Demetrius gasped, not moving anything beside his mouth. "You saved my life."
Fíli kept frozen, praying to Mahal that the creature would slither away without any trouble. It was as long as four of him stacked on top of each other! And what's more, the snakes in the northern mountain were exceptionally poisonous and had a reputation for being both aggressive and painful.
"What do we do?" the man whispered urgently, flicking his eyes in the direction of the caravan. Those who'd seen Fíli stop Demetrius had stopped those behind them and so on until everyone had come to a halt. All for one snake.
Their organization is truly astounding.
But the beast didn't slither away. It gathered itself up into neatly stacked loops while raising its head higher and flicking its red tongue at them. The way it weaved and bobbed was almost surreal to watch.
"Fíli, it's going to strike," Demetrius panicked quietly, too scared to move and to stay put at the same time.
This can't be happening.
The snake's head swiveled between the man and the dwarf, as if deciding which would be more dangerous.
Or delicious.
"Don't move," Fíli finally answered. As slowly as he could possibly manage, he crept his fingers towards one of his throwing knives he kept tucked into his bracers. The small amount of motion didn't seem to threaten the snake, but it did catch its attention. With the yellow eyes now glaring with full attention on Fíli, he knew he'd only have one chance to get it right.
Finally his fingers connected with the shaft of the knife, causing him to elicit a small sigh of relief. "I have a plan," he whispered, slowly starting to move Demetrius behind him, "Just stay still." Ever so carefully, Fíli began to slide the knife from its hiding place. It was a gentle movement that took the poise of a practiced hand to accomplish. A whisper of sound, a poetry of movement. Another inch and he'd sail gracefully into the proverbial hall of heroes.
And then he dropped the knife.
It tumbled to the ground, causing Fíli to flail involuntarily in an attempt to catch it. The motion was too sudden, and it happened too fast for him to correct his mistake. And then everything slowed.
The snake reared back and then lurched forward with its jaw open impossibly wide. The fangs were the length of a dwarf's forearm and dripping with venom. Fíli had just enough time to snap his head up and stare into the massive jaws that were about to embrace his jugular.
Thwack!
Fíli blinked rapidly, trying to register what had just happened. The snake lay in a heap before his feet, its jaw still open wide enough to swallow his head. But something was wrong; it wasn't trying to maul him. It wasn't doing anything, actually.
Oh.
A dark arrow protruded from the side of the snake's head, just below the eye. It was the kind of shot that only an elf could have made. He snapped his head to the side to find Kíli standing against the rock face with another arrow knocked and pointed at the snake's carcass.
"Make sure it's dead," he ordered, not moving his eyes from his target. Fíli swallowed hard and nodded, turning to the massive beast laid before him. He was about to kick it with his foot, but logic took over.
If it isn't dead and you do that, you'll wind up dead yourself.
So without further ado, Fíli drew his sword and swung it down in a loop, severing the snake's head from its body. He could hear Demetrius breathe a sigh of relief behind him.
"Well look at that," he chuckled shakily, "Simply astounding."
"Ironhead Viper," Brent said grimly. When he'd arrived, no one knew. "They're one of the few species of animal with a strong enough stomach to feed off goblins."
Fíli looked over at his brother, who was replacing his bow on his back. "I could have gotten that, Kee," he joked as he approached the dark haired dwarf, "I was totally prepared to handle it."
Kíli didn't smile, but looked up at him with a dark expression. "I told you we never should have taken this path."
And then he was gone into the crowd, leaving a dumbstruck Fíli frozen where he stood for the second time that day.
Kíli followed the crowd as they poured into the village like a grand parade. He kept his eyes ahead of him and ignored the townsfolk that watched him pass. He didn't know where they were ultimately going nor what he would do when they got there. There was, however, one thing he did know.
He was miserable.
He couldn't explain how he felt even if he tried. Everything someone said or did felt like a deliberate attack on his sanity. It was too warm, but the breeze was too cold. If no one was talking to him, he felt isolated. But if someone did talk to him, he wanted to glue their lips shut. He didn't want it to be dark, but the sun was far too bright. And hot. And yellow.
Damned sun.
Kíli shook his head and blinked the dust from his eyes.
What is happening to me?
On top of his mental anguish, the bite wound on his shoulder felt like it was constantly getting stabbed with a fire poker. Many injuries of a greater scale had befallen Kíli in his lifetime, but this wound blazed with enough vigor to match even the worst of them. He checked the bite many times to make sure there were no signs of infection. And since he could not find any, he deemed that it must be weakness causing him to be hyperactively sensitive to pain.
And that also irritated him.
The merchants came into the square at the center of town and started to divide off in different directions. The young dwarf made his way past the crowd with his jaw tightly clenched to prevent himself from cursing at those who bumped him.
"Fíli, Kíli, welcome to Brendor," Thorin called to them. Fíli emerged from a few yards ahead and walked up to their uncle, touching foreheads a moment in greeting. Kíli approached them silently and tried not to draw attention to himself. Thorin turned and touched his forehead to Kíli's without noticing his nephew's rigid posture.
"How was the journey?" Thorin asked as the last of the merchants divided off.
"It went fairly well," Fíli answered in his diplomatic voice. That voice made Kíli's skin crawl with irritation. "There was a goblin attack two nights before today, but no known casualties."
"Good," Thorin sighed, "You took so long I began to get worried."
Fíli bit his lip, forgetting to look official. "Yes, well…"
"Fíli chose to take the shorter path leading down the steep side of the cliff face," Kíli interjected coldly, "The road was hard on the wagons and we had to continually stop for repairs."
The blonde dwarf sighed and accepted the criticism. He did ignore Kíli's logic and it did cost them time. "Kíli also saved me from an Ironhead Viper, so there's that as well."
The acknowledgment only made Kíli squirm with discomfort. Thorin was watching him carefully now.
"Well done Kíli," he said finally, "Those creatures have enough venom to kill a man and enough strength to maim him before the poison even takes hold." Kíli grunted and shifted his eyes away from Thorin's scrutinizing gaze. "About the road, however, it's a good thing you took the one that you did Fíli. A rockslide wiped out the upper path not a day ago, and the lower has been teaming with goblins of incredible numbers. Excellent instinct, I'm very proud of both of you."
Fíli smiled and looked to his brother, hoping the rare praise from their uncle would rouse him from his foul mood. But Kíli was unmoved and kept his eyes trained on an alleyway that he desperately wanted to escape down. This interaction was getting to be more than his nerves were willing to handle. Thorin noticed this too and lightly touched Kíli's bandaged shoulder.
"Kíli, are you well?"
A set of dark brown eyes flicked to Thorin's, flashing with impatience. "I'm fine," he snapped. Thorin withdrew his hand and readied a rebuttal, but Kíli spun on his heels and stalked off into the lingering crowd. Fíli's face drew with concern as he watched his brother's back disappear into the shadows.
"Fíli, what is wrong with him?"
Thorin's voice was low, but it was full of his signature blend of anger and concern.
"He's been like that for days," Fíli answered miserably. "None of us know why and he won't explain. The night that the goblins attacked us, he got bit on the shoulder. It's not that serious, so I don't think that that's the problem. But the from the time he woke up the next morning, he's been as wretched as you see him now."
Thorin stroked his chin and narrowed his eyes.
"I'm worried Uncle, it's not like him."
"I think we best not dwell on it for now," he said decidedly, "If he doesn't improve with food and sleep, him and I will have to have a discussion on what it means to present oneself as a Durin."
Kíli felt like his mind was choking on itself. The bed was too soft, scratchy, firm, and malleable all at the same time. His legs were hot, but his shoulders were cold. And even if he managed to get comfortable enough to lie still, his thoughts would just…
Not. Shut. Up.
He felt guilty for how he acted toward Fíli and Thorin, but found them too unbearable to be around to bother apologizing. His shoulder itched and ached, even though he had just changed the bandage.
Mahal help me, he inwardly sighed, I just need to get some sleep.
It had been three days since their arrival in Brendor. Three days was long enough for Kíli to spew as many harsh and unjustified comments at his friends as possible. He completely alienated Millí by telling her that her beard didn't flatter her face and that she could be out-drinked by an elf. Gimli's mother Guinn was amongst the adult dwarves working the forge with Thorin, so naturally Kíli had to make the comment that he couldn't differentiate Gloin from Guinn. Ori was far too easy to insult, so Kíli was able to hurt him on multiple levels. He had managed to avoid his brother and Thorin, but his newfound cruelty had stretched out to dwarves of all ages and status, including Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur, Oin, Nori, and many others.
And being notorious for a bad attitude left plenty of opportunities for brooding and inner conflict. Nasty business that doesn't allow one to sleep. Even when that one really, really wants to.
"I give up!" Kíli finally shouted, sitting up in his bed. If he couldn't sleep, he certainly wouldn't lie around wasting time. He threw the blankets to the ground and swung his feet into his boots. In a matter of seconds he had his jerkin on over his tunic and his archery bracers pulled to his elbows. A second more and his bow was slung behind his back along with a full quiver of arrows. Then he was free of the room and out in the night air.
Kíli walked through the annoyingly silent streets until he found a secluded circular clearing amongst the shabby houses. There was a post in the middle of the circle that looked with a whipping post from the Second Age.
Excellent for target practice.
Kili positioned himself at the edge of the houses and knocked an arrow to his bow. He clenched his jaw against the pain flaring in his shoulder, took a deep breath, and fired.
The arrow dug flawlessly into the wood of the post with a satisfying thud. It was the closest thing to a positive feeling Kíli had felt in nearly a week.
Try to split the arrow.
Kíli smirked at his own challenge and knocked another arrow. He pulled the string back, poised himself, took a breath, and released.
Crack.
A sharp pain suddenly erupted on the back of his head. His vision flashed white a moment and then started to pitch and churn. He felt like he was spinning and falling at the same time.
"What—"
Something hard collided with the side of his head this time. He gasped and reached out for whatever was attacking him. Kíli couldn't tell up from down and only managed to roll himself over onto his stomach before it all became too much.
Darkness overtook him before he got to see the second arrow wedged between the perfectly even halves of the first.
Okay!
Thanks for the first comers to the story who lent their enthusiasm and support. It means a lot! (Speaking of lent, happy Palm Sunday!)
DWARF TRANSLATION: Kíli: "Guz mahumub," means "Eat shit/feces." (Tsk tsk, Kee.)
Fíli: "Ühybîr, nadad," roughly means, "Listen, brother…"
Thanks again! And forgive my grammatical errors!
