The once desolated kingdom of Erebor was now bursting with life, but confined to his chambers on bedrest Thorin saw little of it. It had been a week since the battle was won but the damage dealt to his foot had extended his confinement long past that of his nephews and long past the endurance of his patience.
Although he was under instruction to rest Thorin conducted himself as king from a chair in his chambers, flat-out refusing to rebuild a kingdom from his bed. Honestly, Thorin would have cut the wretched appendage off himself if he thought it would have gotten him out if this state any faster. Most days his chamber was to be found filled with scroll laden Dwarves coming and going in varying states of distress for it seemed that Thorin's own frustration was manifesting itself through yelling and impatience.
Walking into the king's chambers one morning Fíli had to suppress a smirk. Thorin sat obstinately on his chair, blankets cast aside, crown firmly on his head, encircled by Balin, Dain, and various members of their kin all debating loudly over one another while Ori's sat in the corner, hand flying frantically across the paper.
His arrival going unnoticed amongst cacophony of voices Fíli walked over to the young dwarf first and clapped him gently on the back. "Ori go and take a break, rest your hands. They're not likely to say anything of value before breakfast."
Ori looked tentatively towards the vociferous group of dwarves. "If the crown prince insists then I guess it would be allowed."
Fíli looked mildly affronted. "Don't be ridiculous Ori, I'm saying this as your friend. Now go before they realize they no longer have an audience."
With a quick and grateful smile Ori picked up his things and scurried from the room.
Fíli stepped forward, clearing his throat loudly to announce his arrival and a relived Thorin looked up.
"Everyone out." He bellowed and although Dain and his compatriots grumbled they left, leaving Fíli alone with his uncle.
As soon as the room was vacated Thorin groaned and gingerly lifted his foot to elevate it atop a cushioned stool and Fíli rushed forwards to help. Thorin let out a sigh as heavily bandaged foot came to rest atop the cushions and lent back in his chair, a soft smile spreading over his face. "Thank you."
Fíli pulled up one of the recently vacated stools and sat, shaking his head. "Uncle you must rest, you won't get back on your feet any faster if you keep this up."
Thorin scoffed dismissively. "Azog impaired my foot not my head. Erebor needs a king strong in mind and body if we are to truly rebuild, and there are still those who would look to destabilize us."
Fíli frowned. "But we have defended our claim to the mountain; surely nobody would look to challenge us again so soon? You're not worried are you uncle?"
Thorin rubbed the spot on his head where his crown rested. "It is a king's lot to worry, but the burden is much less with the knowledge that I have the support of my kin."
"And when is Dain departing for the Iron Hills?"
"As soon as I can walk to the throne myself, but he was not the only kin I was referring to." Thorin said, looking pointedly at his nephew.
Fíli felt his cheeks flush and his heart swell with pleasure. "Have you had some Bilbo's pipe weed, uncle?" he chuckled.
Thorin glowered "Just because I can't walk doesn't mean I can't knock your head. I was going to tell you that watching how you have taken on the role of prince has only made me more certain you were born to be a king, and that it brings peace to my heart to know that Erebor's future is safe in your hands."
"Uncle," Fíli said, curious at this overt pronouncement of affection." you speak as if you were on your deathbed."
"Perhaps we should all speak as if we were on our death beds. Such honesty and truth should not remembered only for our last breath." Thorin's eyes seemed to travel further than the confines of his chamber, lost in the distance and time of memories.
Fíli didn't say anything but waited patiently for his uncle to return. He knew that although Thorin had overcome the dragon sickness there were moments when the damage of the past seemed a more potent toxin, but Thorin would rather suffer in silence than drag others into his darkness. And though it pained him Fíli knew in his heart that it would take time, and that as Erebor slowly healed so to would his uncle.
Thorin sighed and dragged himself from his reverie, turning to his nephew. "And how are you finding your new home? Did I not tell you that it was a place of wonder?"
Fíli lent backwards on the stool as memories of his childhood flooded in on tides of nostalgia. "When you told us the tales of Erebor in my youth I would sit by the fire and imagine that if I looked from the depths of the Mountain to the ceiling above I might go on looking forever. I used to tell Kíli that when I was king I would make the throne big enough for two so that we both might sit on it together. But in truth I never spend much time thinking about what it might look like, only the things I would do when we got here."
Thorin smiled. "When I told you those tales I had similar dreams. I dreamt that one day I would bring my family home; that I would watch you grow up in these halls, that you would have your own family, no doubt as unruly as you and your brother were at that age, and that I would live out my days in the company of those whom my heart called home." He sighed in contentment. "Now I can see my dreams as a future rather than a desperate hope."
Thorin's words sparked vision and dreams in Fíli's mind; his mother returning, their family reunited in their homeland, growing old with his brother by his side. He pictured Sigrid smiling with his cooing child in her arms, a child with hair the colour of the morning sun and her grey eyes. Fíli smiled privately, how wondrous to think that all his dreams were entirely wrapped up other people.
His uncle's voice brought him sharply back to the earth. "Fíli, we need to talk."
His stomach lurched as if he had just missed a step. Had he been too obvious? Could Thorin sense where his mind had wondered? What would he say about his heir's desire to bind his life to a human instead of a dwarf?
Thorin looked at him sternly and spoke. "It's about your brother." Fíli let out his breath. "What do you know of his connection with the elf who resides in these halls without my permission?" and Fíli felt his breath sucked right back in again.
"How did you hear about that?" Fíli said guiltily.
Thorin pointed grimly to his temple. "Foot not head remember. Now, what mess has he gotten himself into?"
Fíli fidgeted, wondering how much he should say for his brother and how much of Thorin's rage he could temper before it was unleashed upon Kíli.
"Fíli." Thorin's glower was enough to make him feel as if he was once again beardless and no higher than his uncle's belt.
"He's- Kíli is in love with Tauriel. The elf." He clarified looking furtively up at his uncle, cringing in anticipation of an explosion.
Thorin didn't say anything, his face remained calmly impassive and if anything this was more terrifying than if he shouted. Thorin's mouth slowly as if carefully considering his words that came from it. "In love with an elf?"
Fíli nodded carefully and then throwing caution to the wind he added; "but before you disinherit him you must know that it is genuine; he believes he has found the one who will keep his heart forever." Fíli tried to gauge his uncle's still impassive face. "Uncle, she makes him happy, you cannot wish to take that from him."
Thorin breathed heavily. "Of course I do not wish to do that but perhaps it is an attempt by the Elvenking to destabilize us by placing one of his own within Erebor?"
Fíli sighed, relived that Thorin didn't seemed to be inclined to start shouting. "I believe Tauriel to be pure in her intentions and from what I understand she has been exiled from the Mirkwood. She was the one to heal Kíli at Laketown against the wishes of her kin; what exists between the two of them is real, from both sides."
Thorin put his head in his hands and let out a groan. "Why did it have to be an elf?"
Fíli twisted the broken arrow around his neck. "Perhaps this might be a good thing uncle. A union between two races might help our two kingdoms to forge at the very least a peace between them, even if she is exiled?"
Thorin lifted his head to eye Fíli as if he were a traitor. "I see that you have given this some thought."
Fíli shuffled nervously but then Thorin smiled, all be it grimly but it was at least a smile. "You have a gift for acting like a brother and thinking like a king."
"But you would not oppose them?" Fíli asked urgently, needing to know Thorin's verdict for his own sake as much as Kíli's.
His uncle sighed heavily. "I will neither disinherit him nor forbid this union as much as I may want to. But don't mistake me, when your brother works up the courage to tell me himself I will put the fear of the Mahal in him." This thought seemed to give Thorin some small measure of consolation. "And perhaps, as you say it will be good for Erebor in the long run."
Fíli let go of his breath again. "Thank you uncle, this means more than you know."
"Hmm, just promise me that you will act like the nephew I raised and pledge your heart to a dwarf."
Fíli swallowed but Thorin didn't seem to assume there would be any reason for Fíli to respond and had moved on in an effort to distract himself.
"And how fares your own quest?" He gestured to the broken arrow at Fíli's throat. "I myself would quite like to know who our saviour was, although, if it was another elf you are to burry that arrow and we will never speak of it again."
Fíli nodded. As much as he would endeavour to build a friendship with the elves, especially for the sake of his brother, he had spent all his life with the knowledge in his heart that much of his people's suffering might have been avoided if the elves had not turned away that fateful day. "Well it's not made by any smith amongst dwarves, that much is obvious." He said running his fingers along the intricate carving along the body. "But just in case I asked Dain's men if they recognized it."
"And what did they say?"
"First they told me that bows and arrows are for elves who don't want to get their pretty hands dirty, and then denied any association with it." Thorin snorted. "But Dain did say that the metal work was old, perhaps a hundred years or more.
"Yes," Thorin said, reaching forwards to brush his fingers along the arrow. "There is certainly of age to the metal, and yet," Thorin traced a line down to the broken shaft and then looked up at Fíli. "When you are older and you have worked with metal as long as I you will find that even the strongest substance can imbibe those it comes into contact with."
"So you can sense who shot it?" Fíli asked, leaning forwards eagerly.
Thorin closed his eyes as his fingers brushed the metal. "It is not so potent and particularly with an arrow which is only held briefly by archers before it is shot and it is never more than a faint whisper of the person. But this metal has a sense of renewal, and something of passionate courage to it." Thorin opened his eyes and removed his fingers from the arrow. "But that does not get us closer to discovering who it is."
Fíli sighed "So after talking to Dain I went to Tauriel, Kíli's elf," he looked furtively at Thorin whose brow furrowed slightly at the statement. "and she said that she had never seen such an arrow and that the engravings had no elven meaning that she could discern. But," he added before Thorin could scoff. "She did say that the red feathers and relatively thin build meant that it was likely never intended to see war, that it was more in the line of family heirloom than a weapon."
"Well then," Thorin said clapping his hands together. "It would seem that the next step would be for you to go to Dale. Balin plans to overseas future relations with our neighbours and has suggested we send a company of our kin to assist with their restorations. I think it would bode well if the heir of Erebor was amongst them."
Fíli struggled to suppress his joy at the idea; he had wanted to go to Dale from the moment he had been released from the healing tents but assisting the injured Thorin had to be his first priority. Fíli carefully controlled the smile that twitched the corners of his mouth. "You think the arrow came from Dale?"
"Well they seem to be the only other option. But you must promise me that you will not strain yourself while you are there; your back will never be as strong as it once was after such a fall."
Fíli groaned "Don't you think that's a bit hypocritical uncle?"
"I mean what I say Fíli. Do not put yourself in peril for others if not for your own sake then for the sake of your family. You belong with us in the lands of the living."
"Only if you can return the promise."
"I can agree to those terms." Thorin said and he lent forwards to place his forehead against his nephew's. "Now, get going before Balin leaves without you."
Fíli sprung eagerly from the stool and was out the door and along the corridor with more enthusiasm than was warranted for a diplomatic voyage.
Fíli found himself planning as he wove through the passages under the Mountain. He planned how he might talk with Sigrid again, how he might remind her of what they had shared at the lake, and how he might gently show her that his affection for her had only grown in distance. Small things at first; something to show how he admired her courage, something to show how he adored her heart, and something to show her how her beauty took his breath away. Yes, just small things to start with. Atop the tower in what he had thought would be his final moments he had lamented not telling her how he felt. Now that he had been gifted with another chance he would neither live nor die without knowing he had pursued his heart to her.
Arriving at his chamber he dressed faster than normal, hurriedly slipping his various blades into their places and feeling the familiar comfort of their weight. On his way out if his chamber he almost barrelled into Kíli who looked as if he had only just woken.
"Where are you off to so early?" Kíli mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Fíli cheerfully clapped his brother on the back. "Can't stop now brother; I'm on my way to Dale. Oh, and uncle wants a word with you about elves. Anyway, have fun when I'm gone and remember that there is another way out of the Mountain if you need an escape route." And with a final smile at his brother's pale face Fíli continued on his way to the entrance hall to catch Balin. A small part of him felt guilty about teasing Kíli, especially when he himself was similarly guilty, but Kíli and Tauriel would need to weather Thorin's disapproval if they hoped to stand together against the world, so a small bit of teasing from a loving brother was harmless.
-―――――‒
Balin was pleased with the young prince's enthusiasm and so the small company set off in good spirits for Dale. It was no great distance by road and yet passing through the battlefields the journey had never felt so long. Pain and suffering was splattered across these lands, the ground was scuffed up and although it now lay bare of bodies it did not take much imagination to see where death had claimed its prize.
Balin explained that while Fíli had been recuperating the recovery had taken two directions; the healing of the injured and the removal of the dead.
"And what of the carcasses of the orcs?" Fíli asked through gritted teeth as they trotted past a patch of ground that had begun to sprout crimson blood flowers.
"Burned, laddie. Taken and burned as far from here as we could manage."
Fíli nodded in grim satisfaction.
-―――――‒
As they approached, Fíli could not help but notice that Dale seemed rather less lively than Erebor, for although he could make out people moving within its walls there was no life to their movements, rather they seemed to move listlessly and without ardour. Perhaps their ongoing suffering had rendered them unable to yet enjoy these days of peace. Goodness knows he knew how it felt to see the world as if it were an endless tunnel of misery.
When they came to the gate he eagerly flung his legs over the side of his steed and stood besides Balin, watching carefully as a man bearing a spear and shield stepped forwards to meet them.
"Greetings good sir, we are the dwarves and Erebor and we have come to seek an audience with your king in the hope of offering our assistance in the restoring of Dale to its former glory." Balin said jovially, bowing to the stern faced man. The rest of the company also bowed but Fíli only inclined his head. Although not suspicious of Dale he was weary of the less than pleased expression on the man's face and the tight grip on his spear.
Finally the guard spoke. "The King of Dale will have no audience with visitors at present and so I cannot allow you to pass through."
Fíli looked to Balin in confusion and the older dwarf stepped forwards, Fíli still by his side. "Forgive me but I have been sent by Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain to seek and audience with Bard, King of Dale to settle differences in the hopes that we might begin to rebuild the diplomatic relationship between our two kingdoms. I would imagine that to see such endeavours halted at the gates would be of no pleasure to either of our kings and of no benefit to either of our people?" The old Dwarf held out his hands in supplication.
The guard absorbed the diplomatic words of the dwarf but still remained resolutely between them and the gates of Dale. "Our King will not take visitors from anyone, not even his own people."
Fíli frowned, Bard did not seem like the type of man to lock himself away when times got hard, especially when he had fought so hard to protect him family first from the master of Laketown and then from Smaug. He stepped forwards to inquire further but Balin reached out a hand. He did not look at the young prince but kept his eyes on the guard, sensing that something was no right; there was a sorrow to this man's eyes when he spoke of his king.
"What happened?" The older dwarf asked softly. Fíli looked confusedly at Balin and then in dawning horror at the guard.
The man seemed taken aback by the kindness in the dwarf's eye and the tension in his shoulders was overcome with sorrow as he said the words. "The King's daughter was killed in the battle."
AN:
This was originally intended to be the first half of a chapter but I have decided to split it up so that I can give some more time and words to do what happens next justice.
I have got a few messages asking why I killed Tilda. The answer is that no battle is without cost and I felt like that was something I needed to be honest to, and I couldn't imagine anything more heartbreaking. I hated myself a bit for putting you and myself through that but I hope that you will stay with me and remember that the darkest nights produce the brightest stars.
Keep letting me know what you think of the characterisation, plot ect. I really enjoy feedback! Sorry about typos, spelling is the absolute bane of my existence!
Lots of love,
Mont Girl of Lumatere