Shadows and Stone

by drakkhammer

The year the young Dúnadan turned 10 the Dwarves came down from the Mountain to trade. They were nothing like he'd been told and Kili liked them, especially the blond one who shared his name. When he turned eighteen it blossomed into something more. But he had Ranger training to complete and Fili had duties as the Heir. For ten long years they were apart and then came dragonfire...

2. Chapter 2

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Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

The Hobbit (Jackson movies)

Relationship:

Fíli/Kíli

Characters:

FíliKíliThorinDwalinDísBofurBomburBifurRadagastGandalf

Additional Tags:

Fili and Kili are not brothersRanger KiliDwarf FiliRomanceSexytimesPTSD Warnings for later chaptersPost-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSDHurt/Comfort

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:

2015-03-21

Updated:

2015-05-03

Words:

29344

Chapters:

4/?

Comments:

79

Kudos:

145

Bookmarks:

18

Hits:

1381

Shadows and Stone

DrakkHammer

Chapter Management

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Chapter 2

Summary:

It's been eight years, but Fili has finally returned and Kili is not as he remembered him. The child has grown into a man, tall and strong and beautiful. It is summer and there is work, but there is also time for fun. Feelings begin to emerge for both Dwarf and Man neither of whom is quite able to understand yet what is happening.

Chapter Text

The four years passed much faster for Kili than they did for Fili. The prince had much to keep him busy; from weapon training, to lessons in everything from languages to diplomacy, and Thorin had started dragging him into sessions on governing his subjects. The trouble was that everything except sparring bored him to tears and the days dragged like molasses. He longed for the freedom of the long summer without lessons and the stultifying boring details of government.

Fili hated everything to do with government. He hated being The Heir and just wanted to be like everyone else. He envied the commoners. He really hated trying to just go shopping and have people notice him. Why did he have to be cursed with golden hair and blue eyes, an uncommon combination for his people? He stood out like a very sore thumb when all the wanted to do was blend in. He'd leave it to what few friends he had to enjoy the attention of the Dwarrowmaids who flocked around vying for his attention. He'd eventually have to take one as his bride to produce the next Heir, but he knew instinctively that he would not find his One among them.

The four years passed rapidly for a young Dúnedain who was growing like the proverbial weed. He wasn't particularly tall for his age and would have been skinny if it wasn't for the muscles that working in the forge layered on his slender frame. He was starting weapons training in earnest. He practiced every day with sword and knife. He was already an expert with a bow, rarely missing a shot, his strength driving the arrow deep enough for kill shots even at distance. He had so much to do that it seemed that here were never enough hours in the day to get it all done.

He hadn't forgotten the Prince. He hadn't forgotten his laugh, or the summer skies reflected in his eyes, his dimples or the way his muscles lay over his strong bones, or the reddish gold curls that spread over the muscles. None of the lads in the village measured up even though they were taller and their features softer and more chiseled. He was uninterested in the maids.

It was a snake crossing his pony's path that undid Fili. It took umbrage at the shaking of the ground beneath the oncoming hooves and chose to curl up and hiss rather than be sensible and flee.

The Prince never saw the snake, nor did he see the tree that broke the arc of his flight. When he woke, he was alone in the growing dark and could barely breathe. He was dizzy, his head pounding and every breath feeling as if a hot knife was being twisted beneath his ribs. He could only think that he had to get home, they were leaving tomorrow for Larendren and he had much to do.

He thought about Kili and the intricate silver clasp he'd made to capture the boy's wild dark hair away from his face. He was still thinking about the clasp when he blacked out.

It hadn't taken Thorin, Dis and Dwalin very long to find him once his pony had come back riderless. Dis and Thorin had stayed with him while Dwalin went back to get a wagon. Fili, son of Vili, might be a Prince, but not even Princes could ride for days with broken ribs.

"You will give it to him?" Fili had entreated Thorin for at least the tenth time.

With great forbearance, his uncle agreed one more time. "Of course I will. I will see to it that I find him straightaway and deliver your gift and your letter. I will tell him how sorry you are to have to miss this trip and what a pain in the arse you have been about it."

"Thorin!" Dis scolded. "What a thing to say to Fili when you know he was counting on going with you."

Only half joking, she looked up at her big brother, blue eyes shining. "If there is any pain in the arse here it is you. So go on and get on the road, you auld grouch."

She looked so much like Frerin when she sassed him that it never failed to wrench his heart. He reached down and brushed her dark braid back over her shoulder so that he could kiss her cheek.

"Take good care of that one," he said, looking at Fili whose brows were still pulled down into a frown. "He is going to whine for awhile, but he will survive it and there is always the next trip."

"In four more years," Fili muttered, not looking at his uncle. He had never been one to take disappointment easily. He didn't want to be in bed with his chest bound so tightly that he could only sip air. He wanted to be on that wagon heading to see the countryside and the young Man who he thought of as his little brother. The boy who would have grown tall and strong and be well into his training by now.

"Four more years," Kili had said sadly to Thorin when he was given the letter and the hair clasp.

He'd put it in himself, something he felt Fili should be doing. He closed his eyes and pretended that his fingers belonged to the golden prince. He breath came unevenly and new feelings trailed tentative fingers up from his legs to his loins. He wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt right. It felt like love.

The next four years passed slowly for them both. For the young Dúnedain the days were an endless swirl of work, practice, and more practice. The days ran together as did the seasons, only winter leaving its mark and taking a toll with chill and the need to use his honed skills to hunt to feed his family. Neither of them ever seemed to be finished with work and practice and longed for the summer days when they had time for swimming and music and laughter.

Kili grew taller still. Not towering like some of his teachers and still slender, but with a grace the bigger men lacked. He could duck a blow, roll out of the way, or slip in to strike quickly and then dance back out of reach. He became formidable with the long sword, his muscles hardened to steel by hours pounding out iron on the anvil.

What didn't change was his shock of unruly dark curls, his brilliant grin and soaring laugh, and the place in his heart where he kept his memories of Fili.

For Fili the years dragged. He rarely thought about his swimming lessons in the cool blue waters of the lake. It was hard for him to remember Kili's face and pointless now that he would no longer look like a scruffy ten-year-old. Sometimes in the dark when he couldn't sleep he'd try to envision the boy nearly grown, but his imagination failed him and Kili ended up looking like every other Man Fili had ever met.

He was also heartily sick of the duties and responsibilities of being The Heir. He just was not a politician. His uncle was good at seeing both sides of an argument and had the patience to sit and listen to the council as they droned on for hours, each Dwarf seeking to sound more important than the one preceding him. Fili, ever the warrior, wanted to just stand up and tell them to do what they needed to do and shut up!

As the winter snows melted, plans were made for another trip to Larendren. Fili had been busy crafting a knife as an eighteenth birthday gift for Kili. Hopefully he would not have left yet for Rivendell because Fili wanted to give it to him in person.

It was a Ranger's blade, meant to take the worst punishment someone living off the land and doing battle could give it. The blade's edge was overlaid with mithril, so that it would hold an edge without being sharpened. The tiny piece that he'd worked and stretched thin and beaten into submission so that it would lay even and deadly along the edge, had cost him dearly, but it was for someone special and was worth it. It was not every day that a Dwarf would craft a knife for one of the Dúnedain.

Fili had hoped to meet a Ranger the last time he'd been on the trip, but none had been in town. Thorin said one had stopped by and had purchased a sword Dwalin had made. He'd been pained to have missed that. But he would make up for it by seeing Kili and knowing that he would be able to give him a gift that was beautiful and useful. Perhaps other Rangers would see it and come to him for their blade. The youth in him very much liked the idea of him being weaponsmith to the Dúnedain.

When the wagons of the Dwarves came creaking into town word spread fast. They hadn't even unpacked their tents before people had started to gather. They talked and they stared, but they didn't help…except for one tall young man.

"Need a hand with that?"

The tent rope was lifted from Fili's hand and he whirled to stare into the chest of the Man who had taken it from him. Tipping his head back, he looked upward into a grin that he remembered very well.

"Kili!"

"You got shorter, Fili."

"Balls! You got taller. A lot taller." The prince's laughter turned into a squeak as he was lifted from his feet.

"Put me down, you arse!"

Kili grunted. "Gladly, you're a lot heavier than you look."

They burst out laughing, joined by the rest the company who had come over to greet Kili.

Dwalin stood there, solid as the rock he from which he was made. "So are ya gonna lift me up too, laddie?" The twinkle in his eye belied the challenge of his words.

Kili laughed harder and he shook his head. "I think I'd hurt myself if I tried. When I look at you, I believe the legends about you being made from stone."

Dwalin threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Aye laddie and don't you forget it."

Bofur poked the big Dwarf, earning himself a cheerfully threatening glare. "You might hurt yourself, but not as much as Dwalin would hurt you for trying."

Kili launched himself at his old friend and snatched his hat, only to put it on and grin foolishly as the flaps bounced with his laughter. The hat was much too large and almost immediately fell down to his nose, obscuring his eyes. This prompted a scream of laughter from Bofur that was heard clear into town.

"You should keep it," Thorin observed cheerfully. "It looks better on you."

"I think not," Kili laughed as he gently set it back on the Dwarf's head. "It appears to be made for someone with a swelled head and you will find that I am very humble."

That brought a bray of laughter from Bifur, who believed sometimes that his cousin thought a bit much of himself, especially when it came to the Dwarrowmaids. Bofur swatted him but he took no notice. He looked earnestly at the boy and began to speak quickly. His run of Khuzdul and Iglishmêk needed no translation. He was glad to see the young Man again and asked after his sister.

"Kathanne has grown tall and beautiful," Kili told the toymaker. "She still has the doll and she still cherishes it and your kindness."

Bifur blushed a little and suddenly found a button on his shirt that needed his attention. Bofur chuckled gently and gave the old Dwarf a quick hug.

"So do you gentlebeings need some assistance?" Kili bent and picked the rope up, handing it to Fili.

"Spoken like a Ranger," Fili replied. "Of course we need help, as long as you are the one providing it." He jerked his thumb toward the tent. "You can bring out the crates."

"Yeah, I guess someone will have to do the heavy lifting around you little guys."

Dwalin laughed and slapped Bombur on the shoulder. "I hope you brought enough food. If we make that one work, it'll take an entire deer to fill him up." Bombur just chuckled. He always brought enough food to feed an army—of Dwarves or Men.

Kili picked up two of the crates and went past Fili into the tent to set them down.

"Show off," the prince muttered, as he secured the tent rope. He could see that he was going to get his arse worked off, as his pride demanded that he one-up the young Ranger.

He looked at Kili out of the corner of his eye. He'd grown so tall, his weight not being able to keep up with his growth spurt, making him look as lanky as a hound pup—all legs and arms. His shock of curls was as wild as ever. They'd been trimmed around his face where they twined fetchingly into ringlets with the longer portion caught back in the silver clip that he'd sent when with Thorin. He was pleased to see that Kili was wearing it. For some reason that made him smile inside.

When the setup was complete, they were all hot and sweating. Kili had taken a seat in the shade of the tent and was finishing a mug of cool water that he was tempted to dump over his head. He looked up as Fili came out of the tent holding something wrapped in deerskin. The Dwarf stopped in front of him and held it out.

"I, uh…made this for you. I thought that a Ranger could use a good knife." He was far shyer about presenting it than he had thought that he would be. For some reason he'd expected that Kili would still look like the lanky ten-year-old he remembered. Seeing this tall handsome Man had been more of a surprise than he was comfortable dealing with. He hadn't expected to find someone whom he was more than a little attracted to.

For his part, Kili was stunned. He took the proffered gift and slowly unwrapped it, eyes going wide and throat constricting as he revealed a beautifully crafted knife in a tooled sheath. The handle was polished bone dyed to a soft gold, bringing out the texture. It was wrapped in finest steel that had been worked multiple times to drive out the impurities, making it shine almost like silver. The smithing was exquisite with a pattern that allowed Dwarven geometry to blend with the swirls of knotwork.

Picking it up carefully, Kili unsheathed it slowly, marveling at the craftsmanship. The blade was mosaic, its pattern nearly like watermarks, but beaten into the steel so that the knife was as much a work of art as it was a weapon. The edge glinted brighter than silver in the light. It was so beautiful that it nearly broke Kili's heart. It was the weapon of a prince…not a would-be Ranger.

He extended his hands, offering it back to Fili, who took a step back in confusion. "Don't you like it?"

Kili's eyes were dark and shone too brightly with unshed tears. "I can't take this. It's too fine for me. It's a knife for royalty. It has to be yours."

Fili chuckled and gently pushed the knife back toward the lad. "It is for royalty. It is for a Ranger of the Line of Elendil. It is I who should bend a knee to you. My ancestors stayed in their mountain while yours have ever kept the land safe. We are all in your debt."

He smiled, his blue eyes soft and sparkling. "It is a Ranger's knife—not a Dwarf's. It is sized for you. I am pleased that I was not wrong in gauging it. The mithril edge will never dull. It will protect you, cut your meat and shave you if you choose not to keep your beard."

Kili was surprised by that last statement and grinned. "No, I quite like my beard." Almost as much as I like yours.

"I thank you for it." He dropped his eyes for a moment. "I have no way to repay you."

Fili leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It is a gift. Gifts do not demand repayment, they require only the receiver's thanks."

Kili stood and squared his shoulders. "That you have, Prince Fili. If ever I can come to your aid I pledge to do so."

He reached out his hand and Fili took it, clasping each other's wrists tightly in promise. Kili towered Fili, but neither of them felt as if it made the slightest difference. They were friends, Man and Dwarf, and it was not their differences that defined them—it was their similarities.

Now that the camp was set up and a stew simmering over the fire, the entire company headed down to the lake to clean up. Bofur observed loudly as he looked at Dwalin, that by bathing together they would probably kill all the fish in the lake. The big Dwarf said nothing in reply, but a few minutes later one not-as-funny-as-he-thought-he-was Dwarf found himself thoroughly dunked. As he stood back up, mustache drooping down to his chest Bofur laughed harder than anyone, partly because he had a good sense of humor and partly because he knew Bombur would slip him an extra dessert for daring to tease Dwalin.

When Fili was waist deep, he turned to Kili, and was surprised to find he was still standing on the shore. "Don't dawdle," he called impatiently.

Shaken out of his trance, Kili quickly stripped and waded into the lake, painfully aware that Fili was looking at him. He couldn't begin to compare to the Dwarf and felt like covering himself, or ducking beneath the water. He was too long and too skinny. He had good enough chest hair, but then it thinned over his abdomen to nothing but a trail that trickled down before flaring out again at his pubes. He felt wanting in the other department as well. He resisted the urge to cover his manhood to shield it from judgmental eyes. What must Fili think of him? His face was flaming by the time he reached the Dwarf and he dove long and deep so that he could stop thinking about how poorly he compared to the Prince.

Fili was surprised when Kili arched up and disappeared. He'd been enjoying the sight of the young Man. His body was so different from the Dwarves, the lines longer and cleaner with less body hair to obscure them. The lad surfaced way out in the lake, too far for Fili to swim. He didn't look as if he was coming back any time soon, so Fili did a little swimming himself, ducking beneath the water to rinse his hair.

One by one the other Dwarves joined them, stripping quickly and then either wading or galloping into the water, and Bombur galloping was awe inspiring.

For his part Kili didn't know where to look…so much…Dwarf…

They were not shy in their nudity and didn't hesitate to jump on one another in rough horseplay, with the exception of Thorin, of course. Even though they were exhausted they washed themselves and their clothes as if it were a celebration rather than a bath. It was a warm day, winter had been hard, they were down in the low country where the weather was softer, and there was a profit to be made, so they engaged in horseplay that would fell an ox.

Kili celebrated too, but for a different reason. He had barely been able to force his eyes away from Fili as he had stripped and walked into the water. His memory of him was eight years old, nearly half a lifetime away and he'd been sure he'd remembered wrong.

He hadn't.

Fili was as beautiful as he had been so many years ago standing in the chill of the early morning, with the sun picking highlights in the gold of his hair. What had changed were the eyes beholding the Prince. No longer did Kili have the vision of a child. He looked upon the Dwarf with the eyes of someone who was a man in body, if not in age. He looked upon Fili as someone who was seeing everything he ever wanted, or ever would want.

The wrench was that it was everything that he could never have.

Rangers rarely married, his father being an exception. They were never home and were always at risk as they lived for battle. They never sought out combat, but their mission was to keep the land free from Orcs and Goblins and so combat found them. It was not a life conducive to establishing a relationship with anyone.

Even at eighteen, Kili instinctively knew this. He never considered that a Dwarven prince might be able to have a relationship with a Man even if he wanted one. Mixing races was frowned upon in a land where there had always been too much danger and too few resources, a combination that formed everyone into a harsh "Us versus Them" mindset.

The young Ranger had none of these prejudices. His first training was among Men, his finishing training would be among Elves and he considered the company he was in to be brothers. It was an acceptance that would serve him well in the years to come, even if it wasn't something that he considered in the present. Right now the only thing he could think about concerning race relations was how to have them with a certain Dwarf who was happily paddling and then swimming out and back in the lake just because he could.

He dove deep and long, coming up underneath Fili and upending him, sending the young prince splashing as he fought to keep his heavy arse from dragging him down.

Fili felt strong hands on his waist as he was stabilized in the water. Once he stopped sputtering and cursing at a grinning Kili, he realized that he could still feel the warmth of those hands long after he'd been released. Ignoring the tingle, he reached out and shoved Kili's head under and then headed for shore, swimming strongly with the young Ranger in pursuit. By the time he'd made it to the shallows and could stand Kili had caught up with him and they amused the Dwarves by having an epic splash fight.

Everyone but Thorin was laughing at the two friends. He'd seen something he remembered from his own youth. Something that could only hurt the two of them if they gave into it.

Supper was as rowdy as the bathing with comments thrown freely about one another's assets and shortcomings. Fortunately most of what was said was in Khuzdul or Kili would have burned up with the blushing. Bofur spotted him sitting with his head down concentrating too hard on his stew and chucked a scone at him. It bounced off his forehead and landed in his lap.

He looked up puzzled and then saw Bofur leaning back and smiling innocently. Without hesitating, Kili threw it back. It arched perfectly to land on the spoon the Dwarf was lifting to his mouth, catapulting its contents onto Bofur's nose.

He jerked in surprise and then roared with laughter, tipping too far back, to fall off the bench, vanishing from view with only his huge boots visible.

"Man 1 – Dwarf 0," Dwalin crowed, wiping his face from the ale he'd spilled when he'd burst out laughing.

"I demand a rematch!" was heard from the ground on the other side of the table.

After supper the Dwarf and the Man sat side by side watching the sun set. Fili brought out his bag of pipeweed and his pipe. Kili watched as he packed the bowl and lit it, then blew a neat series of smoke rings into the air.

He offered his pipe to Kili, who took it gingerly. He held it and marveled at the intricate carving on the bowl and stem. It looked more like a sculpture than a pipe. Fili saw him inspecting it, but not smoking and said, "It's okay, you can have some if you want."

"I never smoked," Kili admitted. "It costs money for a pipe, so I never bothered."

Fili nodded. "You do not have to try it. Not everyone likes it." He grinned. "I mostly like it because it is fun to see if I can make rings with the smoke."

Kili cocked his head. "Really?"

"Even a prince has to have some fun," Fili teased.

"Can you teach me?" Kili was suddenly eager to do something that Fili liked.

"I never tried to teach anyone, mostly I just get laughed at for doing it." He had to admit that he liked the idea of teaching Kili something that was fun.

The young Ranger put the pipe in his mouth and sucked hard. He ended up in a coughing fit that made him drop the pipe. He looked up with tears in his eyes from choking, mortified, and started to apologize.

Fili quickly reassured him. "Just pull the smoke into your mouth, not all the way into your lungs. It takes practice. I coughed a lot the first time too, which probably means we should not be doing this. But then, we do a lot of things that we should not do."

Kili nodded and wiped his eyes. "I guess I need to use less suck."

The prince threw back his head and laughed. "That is an excellent way to describe it: less suck and more blow. I think there is a dirty joke in there somewhere."

They both sat laughing as Kili gradually got the hang of it. The pipeweed had a mild flavor and a scent like autumn. By the time it was twilight he could get a bit of a ring going but it always broke and went up his nose and into his eyes making them water. He was not pleased with his progress, but the prince didn't agree.

"It is an excellent start," Fili assured him, standing up and stretching. He patted Kili on the shoulder. "You will get better at it and at some point when you run out of pipeweed you will curse me for having introduced you to it."

They headed back to camp and were met by Bombur, who brought the leftovers to Kili along with a bag that held raisin scones.

The young Ranger smiled at Bombur. "You're too kind."

Bombur shook his head and laid his hand on Kili's shoulder. "You are like family and what good is being a cook if you cannot make treats for your family?"

Fili walked with Kili to the road. "Are you coming tomorrow?" He tried not to look too hopeful.

Kili nodded. "Yes. It will have to be after I'm done with training and work. I'm afraid I won't be much help to you this year."

Fili tried to keep his expression neutral. He looked up at Kili and said, "You do not have to earn your keep with us. We are always glad to see you. Besides, not just anyone can so effectively shut Bofur up the way you did. That took skill."

The brunet laughed. "That took luck, but I'm glad I could amuse."

He started to walk away and then stopped. "If you get up early you could come and watch me train. I'll bet you could teach me some things."

Fili was surprised. "You would want to train with me?"

"Sure. I'd love to see how you fight. You never know, I might face a Dwarf at some point, although I hope I don't. But maybe you could teach me something that would surprise an adversary."

Now that Kili had thought of it, he was so eager to have Fili come and watch that he was nearly bouncing with enthusiasm. He was like a big puppy with a new toy. For a moment he looked ten years old again and Fili smiled, enjoying the lad's exuberance.

"Of course I will come. With your help we got almost everything done today. I can take an hour off in the morning." He had to admit that the idea of sparring with Kili was very appealing.

The lad held out his hand and Fili took it, noting that, although the boy had a longer reach, the Dwarf's hand was still larger and stronger. "See you tomorrow behind the smithy."

The day dawned brightly, with the rising sun painting the sky in golden pastels. It was still chilly, but sparring in the heat was never a good idea. Fili hauled himself out of bed and dressed, letting the bite of the morning breeze bring him to full wakefulness. He'd told Thorin where he was going the night before and his uncle had agreed that it would be good for the boy to learn as much as he could. The Prince saddled Misty, the grey pony, and headed for the smithy.

Kili was already there talking with a big Man who looked to be the Ranger version of Dwalin. He was tall and broad with long hair caught back in a horsetail, his bare arms decorated equally with tattoos and scars. He spotted Fili and his brows drew down in a frown. He said something too quickly and softly for the Prince to hear, but it was obvious by the lad's reaction that it wasn't a compliment.

Ignoring his tutor Kili's face split into a huge grin and he ran over to greet Fili.

I'm glad you could make it. I was telling Baen about you."

Nodding toward the Ranger, Fili replied, "I saw that and he does not look impressed."

"Aw, that's just because he doesn't know anything about Dwarves. Anyway, you're here to watch me." Kili's enthusiasm was not to be brooked and he could barely stand to wait while the Dwarf tied the pony in the shade.

Fili followed him over to Baen and waited as he was introduced. The Ranger nodded curtly to him and motioned for him to move out of the way. On another day Fili would have felt insulted. Today he was just amused. Sure, he'd been ignored and dismissed, but it was by a Ranger and one who had obviously seen a lot of action. He didn't doubt that Dwalin would act the same if presented with a Man at the sparring area. He seated himself comfortably on the grass and waited for the match to begin.

He didn't have long to wait. They picked up the long wooden training swords and squared off. The old Ranger tried to sweep Kili's feet from beneath him with a sideways kick. The brunet jumped the attack and landed with his sword out ready for action. It came quickly with a series of blows and parries. First one and then the other was driven back. Fili was impressed. Kili might be young but he had a good eye, a calculating mind and was fast. He seemed to know when and where the Ranger's sword would strike and be there to block it.

Only the Ranger's superior skill and knowledge turned the fight. Kili was hit on the left side, first his ribs and then his shoulder as he didn't protect himself fast enough from the first blow. He stood trying to catch his breath, one hand rubbing his stinging ribs. If the Ranger had less skill it would have been a serious wound rather than a slap that stung. His bicep has a slow trickle of blood trailing from it, but it was only a nick and not even worth acknowledging.

Baen was upbraiding Kili loudly. "You leave yourself open too often. You are fast, but if you have your ribs hacked apart nothing else will matter. Don't plant your feet like you are a bloody tree! MOVE!

With that he swung a mighty blow that, even with the wooden sword, would have hurt or cracked a rib. Kili whirled out of the way, the tip just missing him as it sailed past. With his opponent now unbalanced, he completed the turn by catching him on the chest hard enough to knock the Ranger back a step.

Rubbing his chest, Baen grinned at Kili. "That's more like it."

As the sparring went on the sun rose, as did the heat. During a break, Kili stripped off his shirt and reached up to adjust the silver clip that held his hair back. Fili tried to concentrate on the hair clip. He was pleased the lad was wearing it. It was great that it held his hair back so that it wouldn't…cascade down to his shoulders in a waterfall of black shading to russet when the sun hit it just right…and slide silkily over the rolling muscles just under tanned olive skin…

Oh, Mahal…

Fili missed seeing the next two parries and looked up to see Kili looking at him expectantly.

He blinked.

Kili nodded, one eyebrow raised in a question.

He blinked again.

"Well," the lad prompted. "What did you think?"

Of what? The breadth of your shoulders…or maybe the carved muscle of your chest with the dusky pink nipples circled by dark crisp hair that is sparkling with your sweat and trails down over rippled abs to cup your navel and then descend into the waistband of your breeches.

Mahal help me…

"You weren't watching." Kili looked irritated at Fili's inattention.

How to tell him that he had the Dwarf's full attention…but that it wasn't on what it should have been. And must he stand there looking like some mythical being sent to torment poor mortals? Did he have to move like a dream come to life, all grace and beauty; dancing through the match with a grace no Dwarf could hope to achieve?

"I was…uh…distracted," he bluffed. He coughed and tried to recover his wits. He quickly added, "Baen is right, you tend to plant your feet and that leaves you open to hits from at least three directions. In a fight you have to keep moving. You have to make them work to hit you. The more moves they have to make, the more opportunities you have to hit them.

"Thorin said he once had a teacher from the Far East who told him to 'move like water.' He said it didn't make sense until later when he found himself doing it in battle. It means to let yourself move easily in any direction that you can to stay away from the opponent."

Kili fixed him with a rueful half-smile. "So I should move like water?"

The Ranger smacked him on the shoulder with enough force to fell a lesser man. "As long as the water isn't frozen I don't care what you move like as long as you MOVE!

Kili made a face and danced backward, sword twirling to slice down and to the side, seeking opportunity. He was blocked, but it was at the last moment. Fili nodded. Better, but he'd have to improve more to stay alive. After the sun was fully up he took his leave and returned to camp to find customers already milling around eager to get the first pick of new merchandise.

It was a busy day for both of them, each of them having to please a discerning master so that they didn't have time to dwell on the morning lesson. Fili had a little more trouble than Kili, but then he had a better reason to dwell.

The lad showed up at camp in time for a swim. It was still hot, the sun a good way up and Fili intercepted him.

"About your training this morning," he started to say.

Kili interrupted him. "It's okay that you aren't interested. I don't know why I thought a Dwarf would want to watch a couple of Men training." He looked tired and disappointed, but was still trying to smile.

Fili shook his head. "But I was interested. I just got to thinking about what you could do to improve and wasn't paying as much attention as I should have to where you currently are."

He pointed to a shaded area under the trees. "Would you like to train with me a little? It will be different and may help your footwork."

"Yeah," Kili's face split in an eager grin. "I'd really like that. I don't have my practice sword though."

"That's alright, I have several that have no edge yet. You've been doing too much whacking because you are using a wooden sword. Hopefully using real steel will teach you a little more control. Sometimes you don't want to hit hard and sometimes you should thrust. Chopping like it's an axe and your enemy is a tree isn't the only way to fight."

"I don't think you should let Baen hear you say that," Kili said with a grin as he followed Fili to the forge.

He was shown several unfinished swords. He picked each one up, trying and then setting them down carefully to test the next. He settled on one that was light and well balanced. Fili chose one himself and also picked up two short swords that Dwalin had been crafting. Kili looked askance, but the Dwarf ignored him and went back to the shade of the trees.

He picked up the sword and did several swings and whirls with it before watching Kili do that same. Once they had adjusted to the feel of their swords, they stepped in toward each other. The Dwarf was surprisingly light on his feet. He stepped in, took a swing, was blocked, and stepped back, to whirl and jab. It was unexpected but it was easily blocked.

Fili picked up the pace, driving Kili backward and, in turn, being driving back. Fili fought differently than Baen; he was more feral than the Ranger, and his movements were quicker and sharper. A number of times Kili just missed being on the receiving end of the point of one of Fili's sword, either his own skill or Fili's sparing him a jab.

Fili dropped the long sword and picked up the two short swords. He twirled them expertly and grinned. "These are what I use. I'll wager you haven't trained against two swords."

Kili shook his head. He had never faced anything like it and he was driven back by the fury of Fili's attack. The young Ranger gained a quick and life-long respect for what he had previously considered a worthless weapon. Fili was lightning fast with his short swords. The powerful muscles in his shoulders and arms made thrusts and cuts hard and his skill made them fast. It was like facing two opponents at once. The young Ranger suddenly found that he had no idea how to fight this dervish, nor did he know how to adequately block a left-handed blow.

The lad was gasping for breath when Fili relented and stepped back. They both walked over for a drink from the bucket Dwalin brought over. The big Dwarf looked at him kindly. "Laddie, if ye'll let me work with you a bit, you will'na be dying by an axe or a mace. You still got some trainin' t'do before you go play with those Elves."

Still out of breath Kili smiled and stuck out his hand. Dwalin shook it, his paw engulfing the lad's hand. "We'll send ya off as prepared as we can."

The swim this time was more than welcome and Kili was too exhausted to do more than sneak a quick glance at Fili as he waded out into the water. He was too busy thinking about the Dwarves' other weapons. Those short swords were fast and deadly. It was a skill he was determined to learn.

In the morning Kili would train with Baen, then in the evening with the Dwarves. Fili gave him very little time to think about thick Dwarven muscles, he was too busy fending off a flurry of blows. Dwalin stripped to the waist was impressive. The tattoos wove down his arms, over his pecs on onto his back, each one telling a story in runes of picture. He was a rough opponent, who had no qualms about slapping the young Ranger sharply if he thought he deserved it.

The rainbow of bruises that Kili developed pained Fili to look at. Such a beautiful body should never be marred. Still, he knew the importance of a lesson well taught and he didn't hesitate to raise a welt here and there himself. To his amusement, after a few lessons the lad was able to strike fast enough to raise a bruise or two on Fili, warning him to step-up his game. Kili was a fast learner and very dedicated, a combination that just might keep him alive.

The swim and after that the meal were always welcome. Kili's muscles developed further, his biceps rippling as he swung and twisted the great axe Dwalin was teaching him to fight with. Fili allowed himself to watch and enjoy, confining his need to those quiet hours after everyone had turned in, and his tiny moans of joy and completion would not be noticed. He would have been more than a little embarrassed had he known that Kili was doing the same in the wee hours of the night as his mother and sister slept.