AN: Hey guys, here's another chapter update, and it's a nice long one so I hope you enjoy. I've had a busy week, and have lots of requests left to do, which will hopefully be finished soon. As always I'd love to hear what you think!
Pairing: Fili/Kili
Warnings: Family Feels, Angst, Fluff, Phobias, Romance
Lay Me Down - Part 2
The wagon teetered slightly as it rolled down the rocky pathway towards Ered Luin, and Dís heaved a relieved sigh as she finally caught sight of the villages on the outskirts of the Blue Mountains. She was exhausted from her travels and could not wait to see her children. Her few weeks away had felt like years without them by her side, and she had spent much of her time remembering their smiling faces fondly. By the looks of things she would arrive long before sundown, with more than enough time left in the day to have an extravagant meal. Perhaps she'd even delve into her best stores of ale.
Dís inched over the side of the caravan, peeking around the trees that just impeded her vision. Beyond them lay the scenic beauty of the mountainous landscape, and though not nearly as impressive or beautiful as Erebor, it was her home now, and she smiled blissfully as the ridges began appearing along the skyline. Her expression slipped slightly when she noticed strange thick clouds looming over the village. They seemed dissipated, as though they had been there for several days already, but still dense and dark enough that whatever caused them had been fairly recent and likely grand. Even from her distance she could tell that something terrible had happened, something that put her on edge. The other dwarves in the caravan were mumbling and whispering, clearly just as confused.
"What happened here?" Dís whispered, her eyes narrowing with worry. Her gaze searched the surrounding area and she nearly fell from the wagon as she leaned even further over the side.
"You there! What's that cloud from?" Dís shouted to an old merchant packing up his wares. He looked up in surprise and he squinted at her through near sightless eyes.
"An accident in the mines. Three days past," he stated wearily, and then immediately returned to his work. Dís clenched her fists against the wooden frame beneath them and stood suddenly, jumping from the caravan with ease. Her boots landed firmly on the ground and she patted the side of the wagon as it continued rolling away.
"Lady Dís! Your supplies!" One of her companions called after her, but she waved him off.
"I'll get them later, go on to the store hold without me," Dís voiced, and she moved along one of the dirt paths that led deeper into the village and towards her home. Dís tugged her satchel over her shoulder roughly, and when she spotted a group of dwarves gathered on a corner, she approached in an attempt to find out more.
"Excuse me! I've just returned from out of town. What exactly happened?" Dís asked, lifting her chin in the direction of the mines, and a fine bearded dwarf lifted her head, glancing in Dís's direction.
"No one knows for sure, except something made one of the forges explode," she explained, shaking out a tapestry.
"It was devastating, the interior of the mine is half collapsed. Won't be up and running for a long time yet," another spoke up.
"Was anyone hurt?" Dís questioned worriedly. She knew it was likely that her family was safe. Thorin rarely ventured into the mines, as much of his work was confined to his store, and her home was far enough away from the site that no harm should have come to her sons, even if they were outdoors at the time of the eruption. Still, when the dwarves faces turned solemn Dís felt her heart sink for the families that lost loved ones.
"Aye, too many to name, and even more still missin', buried beneath rubble," a scruffy dwarf said, and he puffed away on his pipe, smoke billowing from his mouth between his words.
"Heard there was even a child down there tha' day," he continued sadly, and Dís straightened her back at the notion.
"Where'd ye hear tha'?" One of the lasses slurred, leaning in close to peer at him incredulously. She held a basket of fruit around one arm, and it tilted to the side and several apples tumbled over the edge. As she cursed and bent to pick them up, the smoking dwarf pulled his pipe from his lips.
"Me wife, she works down there," he muttered, and the others began whispering and muttering in disbelief.
"What was a child doing in the mines?" The first lass gasped, her face strained.
"Don't know, but I heard when they found 'im, e' weren't breathin'," was the whispered response, and several of the dwarves gasped, including Dís. She felt her chest tighten and she looked in the direction of her home with gritted teeth.
"I didn't know tha'," someone hissed, and there were numerous low muttering sounds as the dwarves discussed it further with horrified expressions upon their faces. Children were hard to come by across the dwarven kingdoms in the years of late. It was rare for dwarves to mate, and even rarer to bear a child. Losing a young one truly was devastating, for all of them, as a people.
"It's a real shame, one so young getting hurt like that. It ain't right," a long bearded dwarf in a knitted tunic grieved, and Dís clenched her fingers tightly into her hands, her mind working quickly as she struggled to remain calm. The dwarves continued gossiping but Dís didn't respond, and without so much as a goodbye she turned on her heels, striding quickly down the remainder of the path. Her heart was beating furiously in her chest, and she could feel a similar pounding in her head as she rushed to get home. Surely her children were safe and sound. Thorin was with them, everything would be fine. They were probably getting up to no good in the yard just like any other day. She could picture her boys' silly grins, and their young eyes flashing with excitement.
But the closer to her home she traveled, the more worried she became. She could see the broken buildings in the distance around the mine, and the steam still pouring from the centre of the site, and it filled her thoughts with doubt. She saw several familiar faces, but did not pause to say hello, or even spend a moment to nod. And when she noticed many of them pointing her way, and whispering with scandalized expressions on their faces, Dís quickened her stride into a full on run. She didn't care how worn she felt from her trip, and she didn't pay mind to the ache in her back or the pain in her feet. She panted loudly as she turned the last corner, running up the long path that separated her home from the rest of the village.
Dís slammed her body into the front door, launching herself through the entranceway, and her eyes searched the first room for signs of anything amiss. It was eerily silent, not a dwarf in sight, and the room was just as tidy as she remembered leaving it. And then Thorin moved around the hall corner, his arm propped against the frame and his eyes wide. He was staring at her with his mouth hanging open and it was clear she had given him a terrible fright. Dís wasted no time with pleasantries, and she threw her heavy coat to the ground and stepped towards him frantically.
"Where are they, my boys, where are they?" she insisted and Thorin stared at her without saying a word. She waited impatiently for him to relieve her of her worries, to tell her the two lads were fine, in their room, studying, sleeping, anything. And then she saw Thorin's face wilt. His gaze fell and he let his arm slip down the wood until his hand rest limply at his side, and Dís cried out in horror. She whipped past him and ran down the hall, her hair falling loose at the side of her face. She refused to believe it, and it was not until she saw it that she did.
Dís choked on her breath as her eyes fell upon her youngest son's bed, and atop it, his body lay, completely motionless and bound in so many bandages and splints she couldn't see a single inch of his skin. One of her hands flew to her mouth and she lunged forwards, nearly collapsing at Kíli's bedside. Her palms trembled inches from his arm, and she reached out suddenly, placing her fingers at his neck, searching for some kind of life. And then she sagged, her elbows falling to the mattress as she struggled to calm her nerves.
It was faint, but she could feel a pulse, and her eyes blurred as she felt moisture fill them and begin to drip down her face. Kíli was so still, bruised, broken, and his chest was barely moving up and down. It was clear he was having trouble breathing, even while unconscious. Her hands hovered above his body, unsure where she could possibly touch him without causing more harm, and she settled instead for simply grazing the tips of his tiny, cold fingers. There was no response.
"Mama?" a small voice called out from behind her, and Dís turned around and wiped her eyes, meeting the empty blue gaze of her eldest son. Fíli sat atop his bed, looking towards her anxiously. He was curled into himself, and seemed worn beyond his few years. Suddenly Dís felt the remainder of her energy leave in one fell swoop, and she leant back against Kíli's bed and slid down to the floor with a thump.
Fíli's eyes were locked on her, and she beckoned him over with a subtle movement of her hand. The lad nearly crawled across the floor to her side, and then he was in her arms, his face pressed into her neck, and the little dwarf's shoulders shook as he cried. It was something Fíli had not done in years, not since his father's death, and Dís embraced him tightly, wrapping her strong arms about his back as she slid her fingers into his unbound hair. He was downright ragged, his skin pale, and his eyes bruised from lack of sleep.
"Darling, when did you last eat? Have you slept?" she asked, and he shook his head against her neck. His body was trembling, and Dís rubbed gentle circles into his back.
"I can't. I'm afraid if I do, that it will stop again," he whispered, his voice hitching as he sniffled and clutched his mother's shirt tightly. Dís frowned, and turned her jaw so that she could kiss the top of Fíli's head.
"That what will stop?" she asked and Fíli took a deep breath before answering.
"His heart," the blond whimpered, and suddenly he was a mess of tears, his entire frame shaking from the sobs that wracked his body. Dís stared blankly over her son's head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Her eyes were wide and filled with sorrow as she held Fíli, and she let her head fall back against the bed behind her. Exhaustion was creeping up on her, but like her son, she was so very afraid to fall asleep. Her eyes were drooping against her will, and she willed them to remain open and focused. Her gaze slipped to the side as another form just barely entered the room and she blinked a few times to clear her vision. Thorin looked at her for a moment and then his chin lowered and he focused instead on his feet, unable to hold her gaze.
"Dís," his deep tenor rang out, loud and heavy above the sound of Fíli's dissipating sobs. He shook his head a few times, not sure what he could say that might make things even remotely better.
"I'm so sorry, I-," he faltered, lifting his gaze towards the ceiling. Thorin blinked away the tears forming in his eyes and he ran a shaky hand through his wavy hair. All he could think about was his youngest nephew's pained cries, and the sight of his limp hand sticking out from beneath what seemed like an endless number of rocks. Even still Kíli's body was hidden beneath wrappings, completely unrecognizable.
"Brother," Dís pulled him from his thoughts, her voice surprisingly steady, and Thorin met her eyes hesitantly. He knew she had every right to hate him, for being so careless, for ultimately being the one to blame, and he wasn't sure if he could face that head on.
"Come here," she commanded, her features serious, and Thorin stepped towards her with a guilt-ridden expression. His dark eyes continuously lifted to where his nephew lay, and he found himself watching the brunet achingly, as he had ever since the accident. He grunted when Dís reached out and yanked him down to the ground beside her. His knees slammed into the wood below, and he waited despondently for Dís to crush his soul even further. But when he looked her in the eye, she was watching him fondly, and Dís tugged him into her side and leant close to whisper in his ear.
"He is alive, and so are you, and Fíli," Dís asserted, and he could see she was struggling not to cry.
"For that I am grateful," she spoke and Thorin collapsed against her. He bent forward, his head dropping to his hands, and he heaved as his tears finally dragged down across his face. He knew his nephew would have a long and painful recovery, he knew it was likely that he might never fully heal. Óin had warned him, such serious injuries, at such a young age, could ruin the way he grew, the way his muscles and bones formed. There was no way of knowing just how much or how little he would be able to do. In just moments the lad's dreams had been crushed beyond repair. And Thorin could have prevented it.
Dís listened to her brother sadly as her eyes closed against the dim lighting in the room. It felt as though her entire family was broken, not just Kíli. And though her youngest son was the only one physically damaged, Fíli was visibly shattered in ways she didn't understand. She could see it in his eyes, a deep set pain that might never disappear. Thorin was an emotional wreck, clearly blaming himself for things he likely had no way of preventing, and she felt her soul cracking at the sight of it all. She could only hope they might manage to heal together.
His blood was boiling in his veins, his vision black as night. And he was screaming. Screaming so loud his throat felt raw and bloody, and his lungs were empty of air and aching beneath his bones. His chest was throbbing, and he was sure something had pierced right through his heart. Everything hurt. He couldn't move, and his body struggled against the weight that held him down to no avail. It was so very dark, and cold, and he was so frightened, so terrifyingly alone. There were voices, but they were drowned out by the noises that came from his lips, and Kíli's head throbbed as his blood pumped painfully throughout his body. Hands were touching him, fingers wrapped around his limbs, and he tried with all his might the get them off of his sensitive skin.
He was panicking, and he could barely breathe. As fear gripped him and warped his perception he suddenly heard a faint sound. He froze, his attention focusing on the familiar pounding, irregular at first, and then gradually, it slowed, and steadied. The rhythm calmed him, soothed his soul, and for some reason it reminded him of his brother. Kíli's breathing stabilized, and his body relaxed as he fixated on the gentle thrum. He was worn, from struggling for so long, and he slipped back into unconsciousness easily.
The next time he woke it was easier. He was still sore, but the pain in his body was more of a distant ache, and he was so sedated that even opening his mouth was a struggle he did not wish to face. His eyelids were heavy, but somehow he managed to lift them enough to see the room around him. It was dark, but he could still make out the shapes of objects in the room. His head turned first to the right, taking note of a form lying beside him on the bed, and he blinked a few times to clear his vision.
It was Fíli, and he settled so close to Kíli's body that the brunet could feel his faint breaths tickling at his face. Kíli wanted to inch closer and cuddle into the blond's side, press his face to his brother's chest, but when he tried, his body did not respond. He whimpered slightly and straightened his neck, turning as a dark shadow fell across his form. His mother bent over him, her eyes shining, and Kíli opened his mouth in surprise. Behind her stood Thorin, watching him carefully, and the older dwarf's jaw was clenched uncomfortably tight, the muscles working beneath his skin.
Dís carefully ran a thumb across one of Kíli's eyebrows, and then she offered him a strained smile. She was distraught, and had barely left her son's bedside for the days he lay unconscious. The worst of it all was that she couldn't even hold him, she couldn't lift him from the bed and walk him around her home, like she used to when he was a babe. Her boy was too fragile, and his bones would only crumble further at her touch. Instead she was able to do little more than touch the side of his face to comfort him. Dís bent forwards and pressed a kiss to Kíli's brow, and his eyelashes fluttered shut at the touch.
"Everything's going to be okay my sweet one," Dís whispered against his skin, and when she pulled away Kíli's eyes opened again and he looked up at her desperately. She felt her throat contract and had to pull away to keep her emotions in check. The last thing she wanted to do was break down the first time her little boy woke.
Kíli watched her turn to Thorin, and the two whispered amongst each other for a few moments, before Dís left the room with a tiny wave. He watched the door slip closed longingly, wishing he could get up and follow her. His gaze flew towards Thorin apprehensively, and after a minute the older dwarf walked closer to the bed and pulled a chair up beside him. Kíli waited. For what he was not sure, but when his uncle finally spoke, the words were like one of his worst nightmares.
"I am…disappointed," Thorin uttered, his face lowered as he stared into his clasped hands. Kíli swallowed painfully and his chest tightened as liquid burned beneath his eyes.
"You knew the mines were forbidden, how dangerous they could be, and yet, you still ventured inside them," his uncle said, his gaze still hidden beneath the shadow of his brow.
"I'm s-sorry," Kíli stuttered, and he squinted as his throat burned from the effort of speaking. He was unbelievably hoarse, and it still felt as though dust from the mines filled his lungs. Thorin turned towards him quickly as he began coughing and then his uncle was standing, and his forefinger was pressed gently against Kíli's lips as he hushed him.
"Shh. Kíli, shh. I know," Thorin uttered, and he looked into Kíli's eyes and shook his head as tears slid down his nephew's temples.
"Don't cry. It's not you I'm disappointed in, it's me," Thorin explained.
"It's not your fault. It was mine, for making you go on your own," he stated, searching his nephew's brown gaze. Kíli clenched his eyebrows together in confusion and Thorin moved his hand to the side of the brunet's neck. His skin was clammy and warm to the touch, and the older dwarf grabbed a bowl off the bedside table and lifted a cloth from within it. Kíli flinched slightly when the cool material touched his neck, but it felt nice, and somehow managed to relax him. Thorin continued moving the fabric across his skin and finally rubbed it gently over his cheeks, wiping away the trails of tears beneath his eyes.
"You do not need to prove yourself to me. I hate that I've somehow made you think you must. Your safety will always come first Kíli," Thorin said and he gripped Kíli's head in between both his hands, the cloth nestled against his nephew's jaw.
"I am sorry, for whatever I have done to make you think I hate you," Thorin held him in place, making sure his nephew was focused only on his words.
"I do not hate you, I could never hate you," Thorin insisted, and Kíli sniffled and closed his eyes when his uncle pressed their brows together. Thorin's hair fell over his nephew's shoulders, and Kíli felt secure, and loved, sheltered in the older dwarf's embrace. He wished he could reach out and wrap his arms around his uncle's body, feel his uncle do the same in return.
All too soon the door to the room creaked open, and Thorin pulled away from him, taking the moist cloth away as well. A moment later Dís was at his side, and she held out a cup and lifted his head, helping him sip the soothing liquid inside it. The aroma from the rich herbs filtered through the room and he felt his aches beginning to fade away as his head became lightweight and airy. He was drifting somewhere in his imagination, that same rhythmic sound comforting him and pounding deep inside his ears, in his very soul. He felt a shift in the mattress somewhere beside his body, and then a gentle pressure against the side of his head, before he finally drifted away into dreamland.
The recovery was long, tedious, and immensely frustrating for Kíli. He hated sitting still, and Óin had ordered him not to move from bed indefinitely. Not that it mattered. He couldn't have even if he wanted to; the pain was far too great. His legs were severely damaged, fractured in places that were tricky to realign, and his ribcage had been crushed by the rocks in the mines. His entire torso was bruised, and even sitting up was impossible for the first few months of his recovery. His arms had mercifully been spared, for the most part. One shoulder had been dislocated, but that was fixed early on. His right elbow was cracked, sporting severe bruising, and he had a clean break in his left arm, which was set and wrapped in a splint.
Thorin was a near constant presence in the house. He hovered over Kíli's bed, during waking and sleeping hours. He read to him, tried to teach him, and engage him in whatever he could. He was trying to make up for lost time, to reassure his youngest nephew and make sure he knew how much he was loved. Despite the number of times Thorin encouraged Kíli, the lad still felt as though everything was his fault. He felt like he was disappointing his uncle every time he forgot something from his books, and each day he spent lying in bed was like another mark on a long list of failures.
And It wasn't just Thorin he was letting down. He knew Dwalin dropped by every now and then to check on him, always in the evening, after he assumed Kíli had fallen into sleep. The dwarf never came closer than the doorway, and he stood there often for up to an hour, just watching, with a guilt ridden expression on his face. Kíli didn't like when others pitied him. Not at all.
The first day Dís had propped him up against the wall and allowed him to feed himself, though shakily, Kíli nearly cried in joy. He was beyond excited that he was able to finally see some improvement, and he got a little overeager to speed things up a bit. The first time he tried to walk he was alone, and he slid slowly to the edge of his bed, hiding his groans so that no one would come to check on him. He let his legs inch over the side of the mattress, and they fell down like wet noodles, flopping about oddly. He winced slightly as muscles that had not worked in quite some time struggled to keep his legs in place, even without the weight of his body on them. There were still wrappings around his shins, and the loose ends dragged on the floor as he waited on his bedside. He was sure he was ready, he was sure he could walk. And perhaps if he showed everyone else, they might stop looking at him in that way he despised.
Kíli took a deep breath and inched even further, until he was just holding on, and then he let go, roughly pushing his body to the floor. But when his feet connected with the ground he just kept falling. His knees gave out, and his legs screamed at him as he buckled to the ground on his side. Kíli let out a pained cry and reached his arms down to clutch at his shins. He whimpered when he tried to move, and stayed there, shivering and shaking until his brother stormed into the room and collapsed at his side.
"Kíli! What happened?" Fíli asked as he helped calm him and propped his body against the side of the bed.
"I...I j-just wanted to w-walk again," Kíli stuttered miserably, and his brother sighed in exasperation.
"You can't do that yet Kee, you're not healed," Fíli lectured, and the brunet lowered his head and bit his lip to hold in his sobs. He felt his brother kiss his eyebrow then tuck his hair behind his ears, and the gentle touches were a startling comparison to the pain he felt elsewhere.
"It hurts," Kíli hissed, unsure exactly what part of his body he was describing. Fíli looked down at him sadly, suffering from a different kind of pain entirely. The blond wanted to lift his brother, get him safely back into bed, and mend all of his broken bones. But he couldn't do anything for him. He wasn't even strong enough to pick him up. Fíli clenched his hands into fists against the ground, frustration eating at him, and then he pushed his body off the floor and ran from the room to go get their uncle.
Fíli spent the rest of the evening at his brother's bedside, watching as Thorin rebound Kíli's legs while he reprimanded him for his foolish actions. Kíli seemed to finally understand that his healing process could not be rushed, and he stared at the ceiling lifelessly while his brother held one of his hands. Fíli could feel the pain in the brunet's heart, along with a sense of failure, and a deep, heavy feeling of sorrow. Silently he vowed to do everything in his power to prevent the other dwarf from ever getting hurt again.
The sun was set low in the sky, casting an eerie red glow across the Blue Mountains, and Thorin hurried to chop the rest of the logs outside Dís's tiny cabin. Winter was approaching, and finding dry wood might soon become difficult. The dwarf lifted the heavy axe over his head and let it fall, watching as the log split in two around the blade. Fíli was sitting a safe distance away, atop a wooden plank on the fence, his face turned to look in the direction of home. Thorin studied the way his nephew's eyes seemed steady and focused, on one spot in particular, Kíli's bedroom window. The curtains were pulled across, hiding whatever dwelled inside, but Thorin knew that it was something else that drew his nephew's attention. The boy was likely listening to Kíli's heart, as he seemed to so often in the days of late.
It was terrifying to remember, those moments during which Kíli stopped breathing, and his heart slowed to a halt in his chest. Thorin thought he might have gone, to join Mahal at the gates, and in his shock he had done nothing. Nothing but sit and watch as Fíli suffered a terrifying pain Thorin could only imagine, while Kíli lay motionless on the ground. Mercifully a star haired miner had found them, and revived Kíli, breathing air back into his lungs until he began to breathe on his own. It gave them enough time to get him to Óin, to get him stabilized, and for that Thorin was eternally grateful.
Thorin set the axe down, letting the handle lean against the stump in front of him, and he walked closer to Fíli and settled against the fence beside him. His nephew paid him no mind and Thorin studied his expression intently. The older dwarf was pretty sure he knew what it meant. Fíli had not been close enough to physically hear his brother's heart in the mines, so it must have been another connection. There was only one thing Thorin knew of that linked dwarves in such a way.
"Can you hear it now?" Thorin asked, and finally Fíli looked towards him searchingly.
"His heart," Thorin specified with a gesture towards Kíli's window, and the blond dwarf blinked at him and nodded before looking back towards his brother's room.
"Did you hear it that day, when we were at Balin's?" Thorin pressed, curious to see just how strong his nephews' bond already was. Fíli swallowed and nodded again, and when he turned towards Thorin his eyes were suspiciously moist.
"I want to protect him," Fíli pronounced, and his uncle hummed in acknowledgement and reached up to scruff the blond's hair about. Thorin knew his nephew was still quite young, but he was certainly driven enough to start training in weaponry. If Fíli wanted to learn how to protect his brother, then Thorin would teach him.
"Pick up a sword," Thorin directed, and Fíli's eyes widened. He grinned fully for the first time in days and practically threw himself off of the fence, running over to grab one of the blades hanging from the side of the stable. He fiddled with a large well-polished one, with geometric patterns etched in the hilt, and Thorin snorted and walked up behind him, holding it in place against the wall.
"Not those, not yet, get the wooden ones," he ordered and Fíli pouted dramatically before grabbing the simple training swords instead. Thorin started off by showing the little dwarf the proper form, and then he lunged at him a few times to test his reaction. Fíli winced as their swords clashed together, and he dropped his with a shout and shook out his hand.
"Relax your grip," Thorin voiced, as he watched his nephew pick up the sword again, this time holding it less forcefully. He approached, thrusting once and Fíli moved out of the way then charged in his direction. Thorin caught his foot with his boot, and Fíli staggered to the side, gasping when his uncle's sword pressed up against his chest slowly. Fíli frowned at the trick, and Thorin smirked before pulling away.
"Be patient," the older dwarf spoke, and the blond took a deep breath and lifted his wooden blade again.
"Wait for your enemy to show his moves, and then block them," Thorin guided, and the next time he lunged, Fíli was ready, his sword coming up to properly deflect the attack.
"Good," Thorin remarked, and he saw Fíli's eyes light up at the praise. He pulled away from his nephew and widened his stride; glad to see the dwarf was a quick learner in battle as well as in his studies. Thorin smiled fondly at his nephew, but not for long, falling back into his serious demeanour as he faced the blond head on.
"Again!" he shouted and Fíli's eyes flashed as he prepared for the next strike.
Kíli's first few steps were rickety at best, and he needed another dwarf at his side to help keep his balance. He managed only to walk halfway across his room before he was forced to stop and rest. It took a lot of perseverance, but eventually he healed enough to move around the cabin on his own, though he was unable to bend and reach for things like he might normally. It was disheartening, and truthfully only the beginning of many disappointing revelations. Once Kíli's bruising had faded away to nothing, Óin gave him one last thorough look over. The news was not what anyone wanted to hear.
"He won't be able to fight," Óin stated with clarity, his fingers pressing firmly against the brunet's thin forearm. Kíli's eyes widened and he looked towards his family with frightened eyes. Thorin was frowning, his expression dark and imposing and Dís stiffened at the words.
"What do you mean?" Thorin pressed, and Óin began packing away his supplies, unaffected by the darkening mood.
"There's too much impact, his bones can't handle the strain. He shouldn't use a sword, nor can he partake in any sort of activity that might put stress on his frame," Óin explained and the room was engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. Fíli sat beside his brother and grabbed his hand supportively.
Kíli knew what the healer was implying. It meant no brawling, no fighting of any kind. No mining, no crafting, or hammering, no chopping wood or hunting. And though Kíli did not yet know how to do many of those things, it didn't mean he never wanted to. The lad always imagined he might learn to fight and craft at his brother's side, but now he would be behind in his training. It was just another way in which to disappoint his family.
"For how long," Thorin asked, and Kíli listened intently for the answer, hoping that it would be just a few months at most before he could start learning the sword like his brother. But the healer shook his head sadly and crushed Kíli's hopes with his next words.
"Indefinitely," Óin said, and Dís failed to hold in a gasp. Fíli's hand tightened around his brother's wrist, and Kíli stared blankly ahead.
"There's nothing I can do for this. Fragile bones, will always be fragile bones," the healer explained before he turned and left the room. Kíli's heart sank, and he refused to meet the eyes of anyone in the room. There was nothing they could say that would comfort him. Even Kíli knew, a dwarf that couldn't wield a weapon, or even lift a hammer, was hardly a dwarf at all.
Kíli watched his brother learn to fight enviously. He longed more than anything to grab one of the training swords off the stable wall and join in, fighting at his brother's side. He wanted his uncle to look at him with the same reverence as he did his brother, whenever Fíli managed to block or evade a particularly difficult attack. Fíli immersed himself in learning the craft, and all Kíli could do was look on as he perfected his balance and technique.
It was a bittersweet moment when Thorin presented Fíli with a real sword, one he had handcrafted in the blacksmith especially for his nephew. The blond dwarf was clearly overjoyed, and more than ready to begin fighting with the steel blade, but he kept his emotions in check for Kíli's sake. The brunet was clearly upset, and Fíli listened to the sorrowful thrum of his brother's heartbeat, unsure what he could possibly do to make the other dwarf laugh like he used to.
Despite his warring emotions Kíli insisted on watching his brother's first real battle, and he settled against the fence in the yard as Thorin prepped his brother for the fight. Their uncle spoke clearly to the blond dwarf, and Fíli hung on to his every word, visibly nervous, but also incredibly excited at the same time. They started with a few basic steps, until Fíli got used to the new weight within his hand, and then Thorin lunged with real intent, and the fight began.
The first time their swords clashed together Kíli flinched and widened his eyes. It was surprisingly loud, and he jumped with each consecutive hit of metal on metal. It was jarring, and he winced and scrunched up his brow, his heart rate quickening. The clanging of the blades shook through his core, and he covered his ears and closed his eyes in terror. Suddenly he wasn't in his yard anymore. He was back in the cavernous depths of the mines. He could remember the sound of the pistons, the loud crash of something falling from above. He could feel the heat upon his skin as the forge exploded behind him, and the suffocating pain as rocks fell atop his body. He was alone, confined, he couldn't breathe, and Kíli's body crumpled in on itself as he let out a high pitched keen.
Fíli jolted when his brother's heart screamed out for him, and Thorin nearly sliced through his nephew's arm when the little dwarf gasped and turned to Kíli in surprise, forgetting to block the attack. Thorin just barely managed to veer to the left, catching only the fabric of Fíli's tunic, and his nephew paid no mind to the action, instead running to his brother's side, letting his blade fall to the ground with a clatter.
Fíli lifted his brother's head and tried to soothe his crying, and then he pulled the smaller dwarf into his arms and did his best to calm him down.
"It's the sounds," Fíli spoke quickly, and Thorin propped his sword against the fence and knelt low beside his nephews, still recovering from the sudden end of their fight.
"They frighten him," the blond whispered anxiously, looking towards his uncle for support. Thorin sighed and let his body sag completely to the ground. He sat beside his nephews silently, his hands clasped together, feeling more lost than ever before. It seemed that each day Kíli uncovered a new obstacle that held him back, as though he was not already fighting a losing battle.
Kíli recovered from the outburst a few hours later, but he was embarrassed, and the sad look his uncle directed at him was enough to make him burst into tears. He felt absolutely worthless. It wasn't the last time it happened either. Any time he heard the swords clashing together, his mind was assaulted with memories of his accident. Thorin began taking Fíli far away, into the forest for his training, and Kíli was left behind feeling more useless than ever.
And worst of all, it wasn't just the sound of metal on metal. Any sound if sufficiently loud was enough to startle him into an unresponsive state. On one particular day Dís dropped a plate to the floor, the pieces shattering across the wood, and Kíli had panicked and curled his body into a ball beneath the dinner table. Ultimately Fíli had to climb under and pull him out, and Kíli was jittery for the remainder of the day. Quick movements were sometimes all it took to put the youngest Durin on edge, and even going into to town proved immensely stressful for him. He couldn't set foot inside the blacksmith without cowering in fear, he couldn't go into the market without feeling claustrophobic and disoriented, and once the mines reopened, just the sound of the forges kicking to life was enough to have him running into his brother's arms.
He was afraid of everything.
News of his condition spread throughout Ered Luin like dragon fire, and dwarves from all walks of life were telling tales of his impairment. Kíli knew he was bringing shame to his family, and he stayed holed up in his room in an effort to hide from their pitying looks. Fíli tried to lift his spirits, and though Kíli appreciated the effort, there was little that could be done to cheer him up.
Sleep offered no aid, for his dreams were plagued with nightmares. They ranged from simple retellings of the explosion in the mines, to warped, chaotic flashing images of his family members ridiculing him with disgusted expressions on their faces. He was weary and weak, and the spark inside his soul had all but disappeared.
Thorin bent low over his worktable, carefully tying the string on his newest piece. He didn't often craft bows, but when he did, the same care and precision was put into them as any of the weapons in his blacksmith. This particular bow was a special case. It needed to be perfect, and he had tested endless builds to come up with a final product he thought might just work. Thorin lifted the bow in his hands and pulled back on the string slightly. It was far too lightweight for him, but that was intentional, and he smiled in satisfaction and set it back on the table when a dwarf stepped through the door to his shop.
He was a gruff looking sort, with a thick brown beard, and Thorin did not recognize him. Still the two shared a nod, and Thorin stood to show him his wares. The other dwarf perused his shop for a few minutes, taking a look at several different weapons, occasionally commenting on the craftsmanship behind them. Thorin let him browse, and soon the other dwarf came upon the bow set atop the work table.
"This is your newest work?" he asked, and Thorin nodded and gestured for him to pick it up and inspect it closer. It was a piece Thorin was quite proud of. The style was very unique, slim, short, and more flexible than most. Thorin had taken great care with the designs etched along it as well. The limbs were fully decorated, depicting birds taking flight and flocking together, flying between swirling clouds.
"Beautiful crafting, but the tension seems off," the dwarf commented, and Thorin nodded in understanding.
"It's for my nephew," Thorin stated, and his guest raised an eyebrow for a moment, and then his eyes flickered with recognition.
"Oh, the damaged lad," he muttered distastefully, and Thorin's jaw tightened as he struggled not to do something he might regret. He hated when the villagers referred to his nephew with such words, as though he was nothing more than a broken toy. It was not the first time he'd heard something said, and it certainly would not be the last. It seemed every dwarf in Ered Luin knew of his nephew's struggles and wanted nothing more than to spread the rumours of his failures.
"I doubt he'll ever have the courage to use it," the dwarf muttered, and Thorin's eyes flashed with anger. He reached for the bow, pulling it forcefully from the customer's hands.
"Get out of my shop," he hissed, and the other dwarf eyed him in surprise, his hands still held out in front of his body.
"Get out!" Thorin shouted impatiently, and finally the dwarf hurried away, his eyes wide and fearful. Thorin put the bow down surprisingly carefully and then slammed his fists into the table. It groaned beneath the force of the attack, and did little to calm him down. Thorin heaved in and out as he tried to control his anger, but all he could picture was his nephew's shattered body, his tiny little hand, and his tear streaked face. His hand inched into his pocket, searching frantically until it slid across the familiar shape of Kíli's drawing. Thorin pulled it from his tunic and looked at the scribble intently. The anger left almost immediately and he ran a finger along the edge of the parchment fondly.
He refused to give up, for his nephew's sake. His eyes flitted to the left, falling to rest on the tiny bow, and he pushed himself from the table determinedly. It took him a few minutes to properly wrap the weapon, and then he packed up the rest of his things, and made his way towards his sister's home. His heavy boots trudged across freshly fallen snow, and he tugged his coat tighter about his body. The air was cool, and the temperature would continue to drop for many days to come. Thorin stepped inside his sister's home gratefully, enjoying the feeling of the hearth warming his skin. He stopped briefly to greet Dís and Fíli, and the blond dwarf eyed the parcel beneath his arm curiously, before following after him around the home. Thorin found his littlest nephew lying beneath the covers on his bed, doing his best impression of a slug, and Thorin sat down beside him. The mattress dipped slightly with his added weight, but Kíli did not move or acknowledge his presence in any way.
"Kíli, I've brought you something," Thorin started, and he smirked slightly when he saw his nephew perk up at the prospect of a gift. Kíli still didn't turn his way however, and Thorin tugged on the covers slightly, pulling them away from his nephew's shoulders.
"You can only have it if you stop this sulking," he bribed in an attempt to pull the brunet out of his state of depression. Kíli nibbled on a fingernail nervously and Thorin knew the boy was trying to make a very important decision, but he never was good at being patient.
"Look at me," Thorin demanded, and his nephew finally turned towards him and looked up at him from beneath dark lashes. Kíli eyed the cloth covered item under his uncle's arm and sat up gingerly. It was clear he was still sore, and the colder weather didn't help his aching bones.
"I know that you are struggling, that you are angry and upset. You have every right to be. But Durins do not give up. There is always a way," Thorin encouraged, and then he pulled the parcel from under his arm and set it on the bed before his nephew. Kíli's eyes were glued to the mystery item, and his body inched forwards but he did not dare reach out.
"Go on, take a look," Thorin urged, and Kíli finally let his fingers touch the parcel, and he untied the tweed knots keeping its covering in place. He unwrapped it hesitantly, occasionally looking towards his uncle for further permission. When the cloth fell away, fully revealing the ornate bow, Kíli's eyes opened wide and he could not look away. His fingers hovered over the weapon, and they trembled as he finally made contact with the images engraved in the wood.
"Do you want to learn how to fight?" Thorin asked, drawing his nephew's attention again. The little dwarf seemed confused by the suggestion, but he still nodded eagerly, even as he eyed his uncle in disbelief.
"Lift it, check the tension for me," Thorin voiced, and Kíli reached out quickly and pulled the bow away from the bedding. He was in complete awe as he held it roughly in position, looking towards his uncle and brother for support. He pulled back on the string slowly, frowning slightly as it proved difficult and caused his arm to tremble under the pressure. Thorin was watching him attentively, and his eyes narrowed when he noticed his nephew's shaking arm.
"Is it painful?" Thorin asked, and he reached out and held the brunet's elbow steady, his large fingers searching for signs of strain against the lad's bones.
"N-no, just…hard," Kíli said earnestly, and Thorin studied his expression, looking for any hint that his nephew was in pain. After a moment he smiled in satisfaction and pulled his hand away, allowing the brunet to lower his arm.
"Good, you can build those muscles in time," Thorin assured him, and Kíli's entire expression lit up. His eyes flashed with hope, and the lad turned towards his brother excitedly. The two dwarves shared an enthusiastic embrace, and Thorin was overjoyed to see a hint of that special spark return to Kíli's eyes.
It was an agonizingly slow process, trying to teach his nephew how to shoot a bow. Thorin was impatient, most Durins were, but it was nothing compared to Kíli when faced with the prospect of any kind of failure. The brunet became easily frustrated when he was unable to pick it up instantly, and it took hundreds of dropped or misfired arrows for him to even begin to grasp how to use the weapon. Thank goodness Fíli insisted on helping as well. The blond was an enigma, perhaps the only Durin to ever show restraint to such a degree, and he spent nearly every moment at his brother's side offering support.
Over time, with Fíli's constant insistence, Kíli was able to develop the muscles in his arms enough to hold the bow fairly steady. That didn't mean there weren't other setbacks. For Kíli's fears still ruled his mind, and he lost focus easily, became frightened at sudden movements or sounds from deep within the forest.
It was a particularly cold day, and the snow was piled so high that Kíli was nearly waist deep in it. Still he insisted on venturing out to the forest and practising. He didn't want to give up now that he could actually manage to shoot the arrows. He wanted more than anything to hit a target for once, so that Thorin might pat his head like he did when Fíli parried an attack. His arm lifted and he held the bow as steady as he could. Kíli frowned when his elbow quaked slightly under the strain. His muscles were definitely getting stronger, but the cold winter air pierced through his skin like a hundred needles. His bones hated the cold, and he winced slightly when his shoulder began to ache the longer he held his pose. He let the arrow fly, and it soared into the distance, missing his target by several feet. Kíli lowered his arms despondently and rubbed at his elbow as he tried to keep his lip from trembling. Fíli wasn't there that day to lift his spirits; instead spending some time studying with Balin, and Kíli missed his comforting presence at his side. Thorin trudged closer, his heavy boots crunching the snow down beneath his feet, and he placed a hand atop his nephew's shoulder.
"It's alright, try again. Take a deep breath first this time," Thorin guided, and Kíli sighed, and nocked another arrow. He breathed in deep and raised the bow, feeling a little more confident in his grip, but then a sudden rumble in the distance began, and Kíli flinched when he realised the mines were kicking to life. Several birds screeched and took off from their hiding places in the trees, and Kíli shuddered as his mind was inundated with painful memories. He tensed and felt tears coming to his eyes, blurring his vision to the point that he was forced to give up on shooting the arrow at all. His arms fell in front of his body, the bow and arrow held limply between his fingers, and he lowered his head in an effort to hide the tears that fell shamefully from his eyes. Unfortunately he couldn't hide the shaking of his shoulders.
Thorin felt his heart ache for the lad, and he reached out and placed a single hand on his back. He could feel the trembling beneath it, the tiny little gasps his nephew took each time he was forced to breathe. Thorin groaned and pulled his nephew to his chest then held his other hand across Kíli's eyes, feeling the tears against the palm of his hand.
"I'm s-sorry," Kíli whimpered mournfully, and he flinched once more when the forges roared again in the distance.
"I'll…t-try harder," the brunet stuttered, and Thorin closed his eyes and took a single heavy breath.
"You're trying more than hard enough," the older dwarf whispered, and he knelt on the ground beside his nephew, ignoring the snow that seeped through his pants.
"Kíli," Thorin began, but at the sight of the brunet's tear stained face he stopped in his tracks. It felt as though someone had twisted a knife in his gut. He didn't understand, why his nephew had been cursed to suffer so. Thorin wrapped his arms around Kíli even tighter and held his shaking body, waiting achingly for the little dwarf's tears to ebb.
"Another day, perhaps," he voiced, and carefully Thorin lifted the brunet into his arms, and began the trek back to his sister's home.
As the years passed by Kíli's problems persisted, in some cases even worsening. His fear of the mines festered, and it haunted him in both waking and dreaming life. He could not venture near them without freezing in horror. And if he so much as heard the deep sounds anywhere throughout the Blue Mountains, Kíli seized up and lost his will.
He didn't fill out the way other dwarves did at his age, because he wasn't able to do what other dwarves did. The only muscles he developed were in his arms, and even still they remained fairly thin and lanky compared to the children that grew up learning to weld and hammer in the workshops of town. He matured slower, since his bones didn't grow quite the way they were meant to. And on a few occasions he suffered further fractures, whenever he happened to lose his footing and fall in a way that jarred a particular weak spot in his body. He had other skills, like incredibly keen eyesight, and feet so light he could sneak up on nearly anyone if he wanted to, but he was unable to apply them to any kind of work and so they went unnoticed by the other dwarves.
Kíli stood out like a sore thumb in town, and nearly every dwarf knew of his ailment. The adults gossiped endlessly about the pathetic little dwarf child that couldn't muster the strength to even hold up a bow, and in turn their children whispered and created wild rumours to go along with the stories they overheard. He received looks of varying degrees, sometimes pity, sometimes spite, sometimes disgust. There were many too, that saw fit to laugh at him with wicked grins upon their faces.
Kíli rarely ventured out alone, for when he did, the other children found him, and mocked him like watching his reaction was their favourite form of entertainment. And though Fíli did his best to stand by his brother's side, there were days he was unable to, or moments during which he was absent. Still, Kíli was determined to be independent, and he often slipped away into the forests or rolling hills away from the busy village. He was usually safer there.
On one particular day Kíli trudged through the snow, walking all the way to where the small river winded between the trees. He had his bow slung across his back, but truthfully, his body ached far too much for him to even attempt to find any sort of focus. So he wandered, curiously exploring the wooded area. It was so cold the river was frozen over and Kíli hesitantly tapped one boot atop the surface. The ice cracked under the pressure and he stepped back in fright. It was definitely not worth the risk, no matter how light-footed he usually was. There were tales of folk walking across the waters in the winter, and falling into a painful and terrifying end.
Kíli shuddered and tugged his fur lined coat up around his neck, then continued moving along the edge of the stream. It was eerie in the forest when everything was covered and hidden beneath the snow. It made him wary, and even more on edge than usual, and he whipped around quickly when something crunched loudly nearby. His heart skipped a beat and his breathing raced, and then he frowned when a few children from town edged out from behind some trees. Kíli didn't know any of them that well, since he spent so little time amongst the other villagers.
"Look who it is," a stocky lad, with short wiry auburn hair slurred, his grin widening as he looked upon Kíli with a menacing gleam in his eyes.
"Nice bow," the boy teased, and one of the girls let out a giggle, while Kíli swallowed uneasily.
"Don't know why he bothers with it. Everyone knows he can't hit anything," she jeered, and the rest of the dwarves laughed and inched closer to him. Kíli scrunched up his face in annoyance and turned away. He knew they were just trying to get a rise out of him. But he had learned early on that fighting back only hurt him more in the end. He didn't feel like suffering another fracture. It meant more time stuck in bed, and less time learning how to shoot. As he began to kick the snow from his path one of the other dwarves gasped loudly and Kíli whipped around to look at him.
"Do you hear that?" the lad hissed, his green eyes wide and filled with fear, and Kíli looked around worriedly as his heart pounded in his chest.
"What?" Kíli whispered, his ears perking as the wind whistled through the trees. There were strange noises all throughout the forest, and he felt his chest tighten in panic.
"It's the mines! I think…I think they might explode!" the dwarf shouted, lunging towards him manically. Kíli cried out in surprise, and fell backwards into the snow, cringing when he felt several ice cold flakes sliding down the back of his neck. The dwarves were snickering around him, and Kíli blinked up at the sky fearfully as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment.
"Oh that's right, how could I forget," the dwarf's burly form loomed over him, and Kíli tried to slide away.
"This one's afraid," he hissed. Kíli's ears burned and he glared at the group surrounding him as he tried to scoop the snow from inside his jacket and boots.
"He's afraid of everything," a red headed boy teased, and they smirked at his shivering form intimidatingly.
"You're nothing but a coward," one of them mocked him, and Kíli flinched at the word. His throat tightened and he clenched his fingers into fists.
"I'm not!" Kíli shouted in defense as he got on his knees. His fingers dug into the snow and he frowned as the cold began to eat away at his body.
"Oh yeah? Then I dare you, come to the mines with us," the brunet egged him on, and Kíli's eyes flittered about nervously.
"It's….it's not allowed," Kíli stuttered as he tried to get back on his feet, but his boots continued to get stuck and he managed only in moving snow about on the ground.
"See, he's scared," one of them pointed at him and Kíli's eyes blurred as they all laughed and shouted various insults at him. His hands trembled in the snow, and Kíli shut his eyes tight and tried to drown out their voices.
"Shut up!" he shouted, but they seemed only to get louder with each passing moment.
"Bang your swords together!" someone yelled, and Kíli flinched when the sound of metal hitting metal echoed around him. He whimpered and brought his hands up to his ears, then fell forwards in the snow and curled up into a ball.
"S-stop it!" Kíli whimpered beneath his breath. He remembered people shouting, the smell of burning flesh, the feeling of crushed bones. His ear drums pounded and he gasped as it became increasingly difficult to breathe. He heard screaming, but it wasn't his own, and Kíli's eyes opened as he felt his heart beating faster and faster. He saw a flash of blond hair, and then the swords suddenly stopped clanging together as the dwarves around him scattered. Several of the children were running scared and shouting for help, and Fíli was throwing punches at whoever he could hit. Kíli's brother grabbed one of the other lads by his jacket and threw him down on the ice, slamming his head into the frozen river with more strength than a dwarf his size should have. The ice cracked beneath the pressure and Kíli stared at the scene with wide eyes. Fíli attacked the other dwarf in some kind of frenzy and Kíli gasped when he saw red staining the white snow around them. His brother was shouting, but it was drowned out by the screams of others and the heart beat that pounded loudly inside Kíli's head.
A dwarf tried to pull Fíli away in vain, getting knocked back by one of the blond's elbows, and Kíli gasped at the hatred that gleamed in his brother's blue eyes. He'd never seen anything like it. Fíli's hair hung around his face in wet tangled strands as he wrapped his hands around neck of the dwarf beneath his body with intent to kill. Kíli wanted to reach out and calm him, tell him everything was okay, that he didn't need to hurt anyone, but he was frozen in place, and could do nothing but watch.
"Fíli! Stop!" Someone shouted, and Kíli saw Dwalin lunging through the trees towards his brother. The burly dwarf jerked Fíli from the lad beneath him and threw them both back into the snow just as the ice began to break into a thousand tiny pieces. Another dwarf held the blond down as he fought to get up and fight some more, and Kíli felt his chest tighten when he saw the absolute rage in his brother's eyes. His heart was thumping furiously, and yet for some reason, Kíli was not troubled by the sight. Even as one of the dwarves from the village lifted a limp body into his arms, one covered in blood and nearly unrecognizable, he felt no sorrow, and no shame.
Kíli sat on his bed with a blanket draped over his shoulders, and Fíli was slumped in a chair nearby with his arms crossed over his torso. The blond bore a hole into the wall across from him as Thorin stood beside him angrily, Dís silent and pensive by the door.
"You could've killed him!" Thorin shouted towards his eldest nephew, and Kíli shuddered at the tone of his uncle's voice. Fíli scoffed and refused to look anyone in the eye.
"I don't care," the blond uttered, his face a mask of indifference, and he rocked back in his chair rudely.
"Fíli?" Dís asked in surprise. She had never seen her eldest son act in such a violent way. He was always so reserved and patient, never one to behave so recklessly. In the years of late Fíli seemed obsessed with mastering his studies, but never had he exhibited such vicious tendencies. It was true he sometimes acted possessed when he fought with his swords, lunging at his opponent with calculated precision. But to truly strike to kill? That she had never seen from him before.
"He deserved it," Fíli hissed, his upper lip curling in distaste. Dís gasped at the comment, and Thorin raised his jaw in surprise. He was shocked by the vehemence laced in his nephew's deepening voice.
"I'd do it again," Fíli claimed, his gaze lowering to his arms, and he let the chair slam down against the ground.
"Fíli…you don't mean that," Dís whispered as she raised a hand to her mouth in disbelief. Fíli frowned further and whipped his chin up, turning his hateful gaze towards her. She jolted at the intensity in his eyes.
"They tried to hurt Kíli! They were shouting at him, they were frightening him!" Fíli cried, and he unlaced his arms and gestured towards his brother desperately, one hand grasping at his chest painfully.
"They were laughing at him," he stumbled over the words, his voice hitching ever so slightly as he spoke. Fíli's arm hung loosely in the air as his family looked towards him, and he let it fall to his side as his anger began to fade.
"I'll kill anyone that tries to hurt my brother, anyone that ridicules him like that," Fíli voiced, and he turned to look towards Kíli with a determined expression. The brunet blinked at him openly and he clenched his fingers in the blanket around his body as he held the other dwarf's penetrating gaze. The room was suddenly silent, and all Kíli could hear was a gentle comforting thrum, the same one he always heard when his brother was near. Thorin shifted in his place, and stepped closer to his eldest nephew.
"Okay," he declared, and the other three dwarves glanced towards him in surprise. Thorin reached out and placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder.
"I cannot reprimand you for defending your kin," he stated, and Dís gaped at him.
"Thorin!" she barked, clearly upset that her brother was encouraging Fíli's actions. He raised a single eyebrow and turned towards her slowly.
"Any Durin would do the same," Thorin claimed, and the two shared a long look. Thorin offered her a pointed nod and she let out a frustrated noise, finally conceding the fact that her brother was right. Thorin stood straight and let out a long sigh, moving his hand to the blond's cheek. He gripped his jaw and nudged him deliberately.
"But for your own sake, and for Kíli's too, try not to kill anyone," Thorin implored his nephew, and Fíli scrunched his brow together at the words.
"He needs you by his side, not in a prison cell," the older dwarf explained, and then he backed away as the blond nodded in understanding. Thorin and Dís left together, discussing how to extinguish the spreading tales of Fíli's rage and their mother sent a final worried glance towards both her sons before shutting the door behind them. Kíli listened as their voices faded away, and then he startled slightly as the bed dipped at his side. Fíli looked at him thoroughly, his gaze travelling from his brother's eyes down to his chest and back again. He smiled slightly and reached out a hand, combing his fingers through the brunet's hair gently.
"I'm sorry if I scared you today," Fíli whispered, and Kíli opened his mouth in surprise.
"You didn't!" the younger of the two swore, and he leaned forwards so quickly that the blanket fell from his shoulders.
"You could never frighten me Fíli," Kíli insisted, his eyes gleaming with honesty, and the blond ducked his head and laughed lightly before reaching to wrap the blanket around his brother's shoulders again.
"I'm glad," Fíli stated, and he tugged his brother close to his side and pressed an innocent kiss to the side of his head. Kíli felt heat fill his cheeks and he turned his nose to his brother's neck, his eyelashes grazing against the blond's skin. Fíli's arm was warm where it was positioned across his waist, and Kíli took comfort in it, snuggling closer to the other dwarf's body. In that moment the brunet didn't care what anyone else thought of him, he didn't care that his bones were weak or that he might never amount to anything. He was just happy he had Fíli at his side.
Throughout the years Fíli and Kíli only grew closer. Their bond was unbreakable, and they spent nearly every moment together. The blond developed a reputation for aggression, especially when it came to his brother, and the two dwarves were rarely disturbed while at each other's sides. It became a tradition for Fíli to take his brother away from the villages and deep into the forests on the days the great pistons in the mines were working. They would escape the noises, and not stop until the thundering beneath their feet was no longer noticeable. It put Kíli's mind at ease, and he was better able to focus and relax.
It got them away from the whispers as well. Though no one ever physically attacked the brothers, things were often said as they passed other villagers, words that made Fíli's shoulders tighten as his frame became overcome with anger. Several times Kíli was forced to restrain him or calm him down, and though Fíli would ease back at his brother's insistence, he still wished nothing more than to slice the heads off any who spoke ill of his brother.
On an evening late in spring, Kíli led them through the low branches, his feet barely making a sound as he stepped into the underbrush. Fíli watched him fondly, noticing the way his brother's ears picked up every sound in the forest, how his eyes latched on to every movement no matter how small. Kíli drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming up into the branches at something Fíli could not see. The blond waited patiently as his brother stared unblinkingly into the trees above. Fíli listened to his heart beating, and latched on to the sound of the second one thrumming in tandem along with it. A grin formed on his face as some stray hairs stirred atop Kíli's brow, and then suddenly his brother released the arrow. Moments later a bird fell to the ground, and the brunet lowered his bow with a wide smile and moved to claim his kill.
The two ate dinner side by side, a fire flickering and crackling a few feet away. It provided a pleasant warmth against the evening chill, and cast a feint orange glow across their skin. When Kíli sat back with a sigh and wiped his sleeve across his mouth in satisfaction Fíli reached out and grabbed one of his hands.
"Do you hear that Kíli?" Fíli muttered, drawing his brother's full attention. Kíli's eyes narrowed and he listened frantically for a moment, fearing that perhaps the mines were rumbling in the distance. But as he listened, his ears did not pick up the familiar deep sounds the mines projected through the earth. Instead there was another sound, equally familiar, perhaps even more so. It was the steady beating of his heart, and then two. He had noticed it before, many times, but never paid it much attention. He liked the comfort it gave him, the way it soothed his soul.
"Why are there two?" Kíli asked, his eyes meeting his brother's clear blue gaze. Fíli grinned, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides, and his well-trimmed braids lifted at the edges of his lips.
"Is it…is it yours?" Kíli pressed, though he was certain he already knew the answer. Perhaps he had always known it somewhere deep inside. Fíli's grip tightened around his fingers and the blond lifted his hand and held it close to his chest.
"Just know…that I hear two as well, when you are at my side," Fíli spoke softly, and then he brought his brother's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles in reverence. The two were caught by one another's eyes, and Kíli knew his brother's heart was racing alongside his own. The brunet let his head fall to Fíli's shoulder, and his attention did not waver from the sound of his brother's heart for the rest of the night.
Whenever Kíli became frightened, instead of allowing his fear to cripple him, he turned into his soul, searching for the sound of his brother's heart beating. It masked the sounds that scared him, and with his brother's help, he was able to steady his shaking limbs, and control the destination of his arrows. There were moments of course, that Kíli became shaky. The sounds of the mines still often managed to break his focus and inundate his mind with flashbacks. But he was able to venture into the blacksmiths and to the fighting grounds without succumbing to the sounds of metal clashing against metal.
He revelled in his success and wanted to join his family on their journeys to the other dwarven kingdoms. He wanted to help them hunt and push back the orcs that sometimes ventured into their lands. But always, Thorin refused. He was deemed unpredictable, and beyond that, he was far too fragile. Even though he had not suffered a break in his bones for many years, there was always that chance. But when word began to spread, that Thorin meant to venture far to the east, across the misty mountains and to the Lonely Mountain, Kíli refused to be cast aside. He fought with Thorin at every chance, desperate to show his worth not only to his family, but also to himself.
"Kíli, even if you can mask your shaking, it is far too risky. One strike to your body and you could fall," Thorin tried to explain, and he reached out towards his youngest nephew, but the brunet flinched from his touch.
"If I don't get hit, I won't get hurt," Kíli asserted.
"I'm fast, and my eyesight is better than any in the Blue Mountains. I can avoid enemies, and help from the shadows," the brunet spoke so quickly that his words began slurring together.
"Please uncle," Kíli pleaded, his eyes growing wet as he stared at the older dwarf.
"I know I'm a disappointment to you, no matter what you say. I'll never be a warrior, or a blacksmith, or a miner," he continued and Thorin's eyes widened and he shook his head slightly from side to side. Kíli did not let him speak, holding up his hand to stop him.
"This is all I have," Kíli begged, and he withdrew slightly when he noticed his brother's form lurking from the side. Thorin seemed frozen in place, and he could not think of anything to say that might soothe his nephew, and resorted to simply shaking his head again. The brunet looked stricken, and he fell back towards Fíli's comforting embrace. Tears dripped from Kíli's dark eyes, and then the lad turned, and Thorin's gaze lowered as his nephews disappeared from sight. The older dwarf thrust his sword into the soil beneath his feet and leant heavily on the holster, warring between his mixed emotions. All he had ever wanted for his family was happiness and good health, a safe haven from the destruction the world had brought upon him. But when he looked at his youngest nephew, all he saw was a caged bird. One who's wings had been clipped at far too young an age. Kíli desperately wanted to fly away, but he couldn't, no matter how hard he struggled. And now Thorin was the one holding him back.
No matter what, nothing stopped the nightmares. They were unpredictable and attacked Kíli in the moment he was weakest, while fast asleep. He couldn't escape them, couldn't run away from the tortures that assaulted him in them, and even Fíli's heart beat was unable to break him free of his dreams. He had to suffer through them, listen as his uncle reminded him of all of his failures, until the pain was enough to startle him awake gasping desperately for air. His only mercy was that Fíli was always there when he woke.
Kíli's eyes opened to meet deep blue, and the fingers that touched his face were gentle and warm. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings, and he scrunched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to ward off the images still vivid in his head. Fíli's heart drummed in his mind, and the brunet's breathing slowed as he relaxed beneath his brother's body.
"You've had a nightmare again, my nadadith," Fíli whispered against his face, and then the blond pressed his lips beneath Kíli's eyebrow. The younger of the two let out a pained noise and took a shaky breath as he felt the gentle pressure upon his skin.
"He won't take me along, I know it," Kíli gasped, and his brother massaged the sides of his neck rhythmically as he listened.
"He thinks me useless," the brunet spat, recalling the way his uncle's eyes often fixated on him in dark and sad way. Thorin watched him just like the rest of the dwarves did, with pity, and disgust.
"That's not true," Fíli assured him as he always had. Some things never changed, and even on the cusp of adulthood the blond was still whisking away his brother's woes with simple but sure words. Kíli gazed at him lovingly, and he wished more than anything that he could join Fíli on the quest to reclaim Erebor. The blond seemed to understand the path his thoughts were heading and he tangled his thick fingers in his brother's long hair.
"You're coming with me, or I'm not going," Fíli swore, and his lips dragged across his brother's brow before he peppered Kíli's nose with tiny little kisses. The brunet sighed peacefully at the tender touches against his skin, and felt his face heating up from the attention. It was incredible how much Fíli's personality changed depending on his surroundings. In battle he was vicious and wild. His hands were strong enough to crush bones or tear an enemy limb from limb. But with Kíli, he was the opposite. Gentle, and cautious, like his brother was an exquisite sculpture that needed to be handled with the utmost care.
Kíli latched on to his form when Fíli lifted him from the bed then rolled him on top of his body. It allowed the brunet to set his ear right next to his brother's heart, and though he was able to hear it regardless, the vibration beneath his face provided additional security, and the rise and fall lured him back to sleep.
Thorin was lifting the remainder of his supplies into a wagon the morning he meant to travel north. There was a meeting with the dwarf lords from across the lands, to further discuss who might travel with his chosen group to the East. He was weary and sore, not an ideal state before a long journey, and he stretched out his back when the last bag was loaded into the cart. He was not ready to leave, not mentally. That morning Thorin had managed to say goodbye to his sister, but he had not seen his nephews in several days, as they spent so much of their time away from the villages. He hoped the two might at the very least show up to see him off, but to be honest; he could not blame them for staying hidden. It troubled him, for it was likely he would make his way straight to the Shire after the meeting took place, and that he might not see the lads for quite some time, or ever again.
Thorin shuddered at the thought. He knew the journey could prove perilous, and truthfully he wanted nothing more than to take his family with him, but he also did not want to put any of them in danger. And though he had asked his eldest nephew to join him as a member of his company, he was not naïve enough to think he might come alone. Thorin knew that when he arrived in the Shire, neither of his nephews would be there to greet him, and the thought saddened him greatly. There was so much he wanted to say to them, so much he wanted to fix, but he had no time. He was already running late. It was his own fault for not acting, for waiting for the boys to come to him instead of searching them out.
Thorin ran his fingers through his hair, now beginning to gray from a combination of stress and age. He pushed away from the wagon and prepared to board, taking one last look down the path that led to his sister's home, hoping that perhaps his nephews might appear at the last moment, but he could not see them anywhere in sight. Thorin sighed heavily and he turned, stepping up into the wagon and double checking he had everything he needed. His hand slid like clockwork into his tunic pocket, and he felt the aged parchment stored there slide between his fingers. It was enough to will him on, and Thorin yanked on the reigns, guiding the ponies to begin walking.
The cart wobbled back and forth down the path and soon the gaps between homes widened, and Thorin reached the end of their small village. He sat up straight, and tried to keep his attention on the road ahead, even as his heart sank the further he travelled. He was so focused that he nearly missed the yells directed at him, but it was impossible not to see the wildly flailing arms.
"Uncle! Uncle wait!" Kíli was shouting at him from the tree line and he ran fast across the terrain towards the tiny pathway. Fíli jogged behind him, but at a much easier pace, and Thorin sighed in relief and slowed the ponies to a halt. He dismounted, landing heavily atop the ground, just in time to catch his youngest nephew in an embrace. He held Kíli gently between his arms, and cushioned his impact the best he could, then pulled back to look at his nephew fondly.
"I'm glad you've come," Thorin murmured, as Fíli strolled up beside them and caught his breath. Kíli seemed to find his wits, and he pulled away suddenly, clearing his throat with purpose.
"That's r-right, I-, I've come to say something," Kíli stuttered, and Thorin tilted his head to the side in curiosity. His nephew crossed his arms defensively and looked towards his brother briefly for support, before focusing his attention on his uncle.
"I won't be left behind," Kíli stated, his form standing tall and sure, and his expression determined. His face was oddly serious, and his rigid expression seemed out of place. Thorin very nearly laughed at the sight, but he held back and considered his nephew thoughtfully. For days Thorin had been thinking about the matter, and he knew Dís would not fight him about his decision, whatever it was. The lads were nearly grown, and though still young in many ways, they were old enough to make their own decisions. Thorin stepped closer to his youngest nephew and brought a hand up to his head, resting his palm against the other dwarf's ear. He could see Kíli's gaze faltering slightly, his resolve crumbling, the longer Thorin went without responding and he felt it was time to spare the lad of his fretting.
"Of course you're coming," Thorin finally said, looking at the brunet directly. Kíli's eyes opened wide in disbelief, and a grin formed on his face as his uncle looked between the two brothers proudly.
"Both of you are, my sister sons," Thorin claimed with surety, and Kíli was very near tears as his uncle pulled him and Fíli close for a hug. He knew the two would stay together, no matter what. Where one went the other would follow, and Thorin would never deign to split them up.
"Travel safe, stay on the paths," he cautioned, after pulling away from the two and holding the back of their heads in a gentle grip.
"I expect to see both of you in the Shire in six weeks' time," Thorin proclaimed, and Kíli nodded enthusiastically. Thorin studied the two lads, and touched his brow to each of theirs. When he turned back towards the wagon it was with a much lighter heart. Kíli waved at him happily as Thorin urged the ponies on once again, and the older dwarf sent Fíli a final pointed look. The blond nodded as he wrapped an arm around his brother's waist, immediately understanding the explicit meaning behind it.
Don't let him get hurt.