A/N: The Blue Canary is pleased at the positive response to this new tale! He has perched himself on the frame of my laptop screen and has puffed up with satisfaction. Thank you for reading, following, favoriting, and sending me the occasional private message. It's been good to hear from some old fans! Special thanks goes to my lovely reviewers Thorny Hedge, wardog85, rodeocat, BM originally, xeia, jaymzNshed, MistakenMagic, GregsMadHatter, deanandhisimpala, Death to elves, and BarbedWire.

Please enjoy this next chapter.

Arc I: Growing Pains — Chapter II

"O God, O God,

how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable

seem to me all the uses of this world!"

–William Shakespeare, "Hamlet"

He stares at me as though he has never seen me before.

"Don't look at me like that, Little Brother," I sigh. "You heard me right; I'm not going."

Kíli sits hunched on the bench by the door, frozen in the act of pulling on his boot. One foot remains lofted high in the air, his hands clutching the edges of the hard boot leather, and I am hard-pressed not to laugh at the sight of it. Only the thought of hurting his feelings at this tense moment prevents me from doing so.

"But why not, Fíli?" he softly exclaims in surprise, finally lowering his foot to the ground. "You've never… It's just… You've always wanted to. We always go."

Guiltily, I shuffle my slippered feet against the rug and continue to hover in the foyer entrance. "Well, Kíli, you see… That's the point." I lean wearily against the archway. "We always go. The same day, almost every week, we do this."

Kíli just blinks at me, a kind of stupefied expression on his face. "That's the point, though, isn't it?" He shakes his head and bends over to tie his laces. "It's our thing," he says simply, "Just you and me."

I shut my eyes against the oncoming sense of frustration and take a deep breath. How to make him understand? It's true that up until recently I've never had any qualms about our weekly excursion to the "wilds", as we call it. Typically every Saturday morning my brother and I head out to explore the woods or mountainous regions that are within the perimeters set by Mother and Uncle years ago—sometimes even sneaking out a bit further—in the name of exploration. We spend hours walking, running, climbing, and merrily chasing one another through rocks and vegetation. As we've grown older, and presumably responsible, these perimeters have gradually been increased. It has finally reached the point that we have explored ever inch and corner of explorable land that lies within a five-mile radius of the settlement. We are allowed to go no further unaccompanied. Still, we have been content with our lot and have freely roamed these lands, playing and investigating to our heart's satisfaction.

In the past year, however, I have gradually grown somewhat discontent with this pastime. I never said a word to my brother because I know how much he enjoys these outings and I did not want to be spoiling his fun. I tried to tell myself that the feeling would pass, that next week I would feel more enthused, but the weeks continued to slip by and it never happened. The feeling of discontentment has only continued to grow until it reached the pinnacle: thorough, utter, undeniable boredom. Maybe it is because of the regularity of our adventuring that the prospect has gone stale, I do not know… but I do know that this particular morning I have absolutely no desire to go trudging through dreary prairie grass or up all-to-familiar mountain paths. I simply can't do it.

"Kíli, I don't know how else to say this, but I really don't want to go today." I bite the inside of my cheek, watching my brother uncertainly.

If I expected him to whine or grouse or otherwise complain, I was wrong. Kíli just finishes tying his boot, sits up and stares at me for a long moment, then finally nods his head. He frowns slightly, perplexed.

"Okay," he answers carefully. "Then what do you want to do?"

I pause, trying to find the words. "I'm not sure, but…"

"We could go to the Men's marketplace instead," Kíli offers quickly. "We haven't been down there in a long while. See what new merchants have rolled through. Maybe we'd stop at Uncle's forge around noontime, and—"

"I had thought to be alone," I interrupt him quietly.

Now Kíli stares with great confusion mingled with an ounce of hurt and I avert my gaze. "Oh." His voice is soft. A few heartbeats later he speaks again. "You don't want to be with me, is that it?"

I sigh, the creeping sense of annoyance growing a bit more. "No, Kíli, no; don't take it that way," I appease; "I just want to be on my own a bit, that's all. Not just from you, but anybody. I feel like getting out on my lonesome today."

The dark-haired dwarfling continues to stare at me from his corner, saying nothing. Something flickers in his brown eyes but I can't discern what it is.

"You've been acting strangely," he eventually says, eyebrows furrowing even further, "Ever since the festival last week. What's going on?"

Inwardly I grumble—all I want is some privacy and Kíli automatically assumes that there is something wrong with me. Typical. I stare back at him blankly. "Nothing," I insist with a small shrug. "I just want some time to myself." At his searching look, I add, the faintest edge on my voice— "Is that too much to ask?"

Apparently it is, for my brother still appears unconvinced and rather concerned. "Anything you want, Big Brother," is all he'll say.

I release the breath I realize I had been holding. I am thankful that, for once, Kíli does not put up an argument or take to interrogating me.

Eventually my disheartened brother wanders off by himself, though not to explore—for we are forbidden to wander far through the woodlands alone; he most likely has gone in search of a friend. I feel a mite guilty knowing that I have disappointed and possibly offended him, but I shake myself out of that feeling. I figure that Kíli's got to learn we cannot do everything together all the time.

A little while after he leaves I head out on my own, a specific destination in mind. I hike up high into the rocks and through some rough scrub and trees, finally to arrive at a little outcrop that boasts a clear view of the valley below. Here I plop down in the cool shade of a large tree and dangle my feet precariously over the edge of the rock, mindful of the refreshing silence that surrounds me. The only sounds are the occasional twittering bird, scampering chipmunk or squirrel, and the tired wind brushing the treetops. In the absence of Kíli's nonsensical chatter I am left to think things over in peace.

Oh, Kíli— bothersome, omnipresent… irreplaceable. For better or for worse he is an incredibly observant and empathetic individual, especially when it comes to me. Nothing escapes him as far as my well-being is concerned. We are too close to hide things from one another, because we can emotionally sense the other's state with uncanny precision. Still, it doesn't mean that we don't miss things. Kíli's observation was correct—I haven't been the same since the festival—but that's not where it all began. Actually, I've been changing for quite some time now… and I don't know when or how it started. I think it happened so slowly, quietly, and gradually, that I only noticed when it had already sprung upon me:

I'm growing up.

I mean, that's nothing new. We all begin to grow the moment that we are conceived in the womb and it doesn't stop. By growing I mean that I'm entering a new stage of life, like when a small child abandons helpless cries for attention in favor of actual words. I am changing from the inside-out on a significant level.

At first I thought that it was everyone else around me who was acting differently; I was sure of it. Everything and everyone felt so strange and foreign to me, their behavior so predictable and often faulty, foolish. It took time for me to come to the conclusion that the one who was different was me. I am now in a sort of semi-state, a world between worlds; I am in an in-between stage where I have begun to acquire greater, more adult self-awareness of myself and the world around me. No longer am I the innocent child who sees the world through rose colored glasses; nor am I the hypercritical, younger adolescent who finds fault with everything. It is as though the fog has been lifted from my eyes and for the first time I am seeing the universe as it truly is, good and bad.

As I said, I am not a child anymore—and I find myself increasingly unable to relate to dwarves significantly younger than myself—but I am hopelessly far from being an actual adult, either. One world has shrunk to claustrophobic proportions, unable to service my needs, yet the other world is far too large and I am ill prepared to meet it. It is like needing a new pair of shoes: the original set is exceedingly small, far too tight and painfully cramped; but the new pair is so swimmingly oversized that one's feet cannot even begin to fill it. What is one to do? I am neither here nor there.

Granted, I have always felt a tad awkward even among my peers. I was always rather mature for my age. Of course, I am not past being as mischievous a terror as my brother, but when it comes down to business I'm always more forward-thinking, more practical. Mother believes I was robbed of a portion of my youthful innocence when my father had been taken from this world so suddenly; she said that I had grown up prematurely. While I didn't lose my childhood—for I was so young when Da passed on—it certainly left its mark on me. I have been described as an old soul with a young heart; I do not believe it to be an entirely inaccurate description. Even Kíli has called me old, and on multiple occasions, too.

Kíli has been spared that loss. He doesn't even remember Da; he feels his absence at times but not as I do. My little brother is a free spirit, a chatterbox little sparrow with scarcely a care in the world, it seems. When we are together we share in his innocence.

Increasingly, however, I find myself leaving him and his childish charms behind. I cannot continue living in our shared bubble of naiveté. The years are marching on and so am I. As my age increases, so do my responsibilities. As the eldest I must become more competent in assisting in the family's welfare. As Thorin's heir I am expected to accomplish a great deal more than Kíli will ever need worry about. With me, there can be no mistakes. There is no room for error. I am the First and Primary Heir. It was never kept a secret from me that I was to carry a heavy load someday, but the idea of being a crown prince to a throne as distant as the ghosts in our fairy tales was just too unreal to be wholly understood or accepted. Day by day, however, the fairy tale gains frightening clarity. For the first time in my life do I understand the gravity of my position… and it weighs on me heavily.

My world feels smaller, people seem older, and everything suddenly seems so much more difficult and complicated than it was in times past. Mahal, help me, but I don't like it at all.

I open my eyes, realizing that I have fallen into a light doze in the warm sun. Two hours has past and the sun has risen high in the sky, shifting the shade and leaving me in a shimmering path of light. I wriggle away from the outcrop edge and lean against a fallen tree trunk, shutting my eyes as I allow my brooding mind to continue in its wanderings. A distant memory comes to light…

"What's wrong, Papa?"

He's bent over the old mahogany desk, quill pen in hand, but at the sound of my voice he immediately raises his head. "Wrong?" he echoes, a small smile turning his lips, "Nothing's wrong, little one. Your old father is just working, is all." He straightens up and sighs, leaning back wearily in his chair. He takes a moment to stretch, and he tips his seat onto its back legs as he runs his hands through his impressive golden mane. I take the opportunity to run to his eagerly to his side, to which he responds by swooping me up into his lap with an exaggerated groan.

I say nothing for a while. Instead, I study the older dwarf's face, his every feature; though he smiles down at me his piercing brown eyes seem clouded with worry, his handsome face careworn and tired. I trace one of my small fingers over his mustache before gently tugging one of its braids.

"Da," I ask again, fiddling with the metal clasp. "What's wrong?"

He blinks with surprise at the question and chuckles softly. "You are persistent, aren't you?" Da tightens his arm around me. "Now, why do you think there is something wrong with me?"

I gaze at him solemnly. "Your face, Da—" I brush my fingers over his cheeks and around his eyes, tracing every wrinkle. "—I can see it."

He chuckles again, reaching his hand up to ruffle my hair fiercely before wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close. "Ah, Fíli. Nothing's wrong, really. It's just these confounded books, is all." He sighs deeply, before looking down at me and offering me a sneaky grin. "I hate these books," he whispers conspiratorially. "Such nasty, bothersome things."

"But you look so worried," I persist.

"Not worrying, my boy," Da retorts, tweaking my nose, "I'm just thinking, is all."

My fingers entwine in his beard and I frown at him slightly. "Then," I conclude gravely, "You think too much, Father."

That seems to give him pause. He gazes at me softly, almost wonderingly, his eyes eventually crinkling with merriment. "Perhaps you are right, little lion." His small side-smile is rather rueful. "But that is the scourge of adulthood. There is so much to think about."

At that statement I release his beard and lean my head against his chest. "I do not want to grow up to be an adult," I pout. "Adults are always frowning and busy and tired, and they spend so much time thinking and being cross about everything."

Da laughs heartily at that, but I know he is not laughing at me; he is laughing at the truth of what I say. "Fear not, my boy," he eventually replies, "You are all of six summers old… you've got plenty of time yet to linger in the sun." He kisses me on the top of my head. "By the time you are of age you shall be much wiser and more experienced, more able to deal with the problems of the world. For now, that is not your concern. It's time for you to enjoy life's little pleasures and nothing more." As I look up at him, I smile at the amused and adoring expression on his face. "And I think," he continues, "That when the time comes for you to grow up, you will turn out just fine."

A sigh shudders through me; now that time has come. I grab a fistful of dry grass beside me and tug it out of the cracked, dusty earth. I wish fervently—and not for the first time—that I could talk to my father about this whole growing up business.

The sun is low in the sky when I eventually return home. I had spent the day in quiet solitude, picnicking at lunchtime on some of my mother's rolls and some dried meat. Now my small family is gathered around dinner, Mum bustling about and placing various plates on the table as my brother chatters on about something that he and his companions were up to that afternoon. Uncle inserts some quiet comment that makes my brother laugh, but I am only half-listening to the conversation and I miss the joke. There is some back-and-forth dialog between Mum and Kíli over the "hateful" vegetables, and finally the meat platter passes my way and I fork some food onto my plate. When I try to take the bread basket from Uncle Thorin's outstretched hand he doesn't release it, and I look up in surprise. He is looking at me with a raised eyebrow, lips quirked into an amused smirk. I pause, and discover that the others are staring at me as well.

"Did I miss something?" I ask, confused.

Thorin laughs quietly. "Your mother asked how your day was." He relinquishes his hold on the bread basket and I accept it with a sheepish smile.

"Oh. Sorry, Mum; I didn't hear you."

"So I noticed," she chuckles. "I was surprised to hear that you and your brother parted ways this morning."

I smile, shrugging. "Felt like a change. I had a pleasant day," is all I say. My mother looks content, but Kíli is far from satisfied with that answer.

"But what did you do?" he queries curiously.

I shrug again. "Nothing much." Distracted, I push my fork into my mashed potatoes. "Spent a quiet day to myself."

"Doing what?" Kíli urges, unable to take a hint. He seems aggravated that I am not more forthcoming.

Eventually spooning some peas, I glance across the table at him. "Thinking," I reply quietly. "Just thinking."

To be continued…

A/N: If this felt a bit slow, pray give it a chance. The chapter was rather wordy and introspective, but it was necessary... I promise that there will be more action in the future. Feed the little bird with some reviews, won't you? :)

P.S. To my followers: if you received multiple emails alerting you for this new chapter, I apologize. The site gave me some trouble posting it, and due to an ongoing glitch on my account I had to delete/reupload it several times. Thanks for your patience!