A/N: *trips, stumbles in* Oh! Hello, there! Update? Y-yes, yes this is an update. Oh, don't look at me like that. I know it took far too long. Let's just say I've been having problems (not related to writing) and some problems (related to writing). Again, I promise, I will never abandon this story for good. So there.

A few weeks back I decided to publish these chapters under a series of "arcs" (4-5 chapters) I created when originally structuring the storyline. That way you, as readers, can pick up on the underlying themes between chapters more quickly. I have since labeled the previous chapters under "Arc I: Growing Pains".

Gold stars and exclusive Fíli-themed muffins go to the kind reviewers Purestrongpoem, Marigold Faucet, Elvenprincess3019, two guest reviewers, jaymzNshed, Booksnake3, BarbedWire, Ozlex, Death to Elves, She-Elf4, Akeea, IsThatBloodInYourMustache, MistakenMagic, Aranna Undomiel, and wardog85! The Blue Canary appreciates the lovin' and is tweet-twittering away right now. (Shh, birdy. Let them hear the story.)

Arc II: Being Big Brother — Chapter V

"If to do were as easy as to know what [was] good to do,

chapels [would have] been churches,

and poor men's cottages princes' palaces."

– William Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice"

Despite our agreement Kíli and I did not go down to the creek on the morrow. In fact, we did not go the next day, or the day after that. There was no time, after I messed things up so royally.

After the debacle in the forge I had to work long past closing time to rectify my mistakes. Once I realized what the finished product was supposed to look like, it took an extraordinary length of time to create the right shapes and angles. It required a delicate touch but my hands trembled with fatigue, making work difficult, and much to my chagrin Thorin eventually stepped in to help. Still, by the time we finished and went home it was long after dark. I was so exhausted from the ordeal that I slept late the next day rather than take advantage of my morning off with Kíli.

My brother was more than a little dismayed that he'd been pushed aside; despite my honest explanations and placations he was unusually angry with me for backing out of our swimming venture. I tried to tell him that we would go another time, but he would have none of it.

"We were supposed to go today," he groused.

"Kee," I sighed, "I know we were. I didn't mean to sleep as late as I did; I guess I just wasn't up to it after that whole mess yesterday. I should've told you last night how tired I felt."

He had the grace to look at least a mite sympathetic before his face reverted back to an uncharacteristic expression of selfish disappointment. "You went back on your word," was his sullen reply.

Taking a deep breath, I raised my hand to my face and rubbed my right temple, eyes closing momentarily. I felt at a loss of what to say. "Kíli. . . I am sorry. We'll just go a different day, alright?"

He snorted quietly and muttered beneath his breath. "You even look like him, now."

"What do you mean by that? Look like whom?" I raised my head, confused, my own frustration rising.

"Nothing," he snapped. "Just forget it."

And he refused to say another word.

It is not like my brother to hold a grudge. While I am the one more prone to brooding, internalizing my thoughts when I am hurt, Kíli is the one who wears his heart on his sleeve. He will rage openly in hot anger but quickly forgive thereafter, like a spark that flares brightly but then fizzles out when all is said and done. Yet, on this occasion it takes him a full day for him to speak to me again. I am too tired and too busy to wonder at his childish behavior, and instead accept the eventual return of his good humor as a matter of course. He doesn't mention the incident—another strange thing—but fearing another pointless temper tantrum on his part, I don't bring it up, either. There are no apologies said on either side and the issue, though unresolved in my mind, is seemingly forgotten by my brother. Life continues as usual.

At least, that's how it seems at first.

The week drags on and I am vaguely aware of a change in Kíli's behavior. He says and does the same things as one could expect him to, but somehow he seems a touch more subdued than normal. When he becomes too chatty and I teasingly ask him to pipe down, he does so immediately—instead of slowly and irritatingly tapering off until I smack him—and he does not talk again until I initiate a conversation later. At the forge, when Thorin interrupts Kíli's animated story to tell him he'd accomplish more if he focused on his task as his "older brother does", Kíli immediately grows silent, ducks his head and hunches his shoulders, returning to work with renewed effort. After Thorin moves on my brother doesn't sneak a cheeky glance at me, rolling his eyes or smirking in his customary way of letting me know he's not upset by the parental critique. Instead, he just frowns to himself and hammers away as though making up for lost time, pointedly ignoring my puzzled gaze.

I make a comment to Kíli about this incident one afternoon, asking him if there's something on his mind, but after an awkward pause he just looks at me like I'm crazy and scoffs light-heartedly.

"Phooey! There's nothin' wrong with me, you dope. Quit your hen-pecking."

I persist in my questioning and he bristles slightly, levity threatening to be overturned by annoyance. Recognizing his limits I quickly alleviate matters by changing the subject, slapping him on the back amiably and making some nonsensical comment that brightens his eyes. But when he turns away and thinks I do not see, his cheerful expression wilts, gaze slipping downward and smile fading.

I do not know what to do, so I watch him go, feeling oddly helpless.

What must I say? What have I done—or haven't done—that's caused this little wall to grow between us? Kíli can deny until the earth's next age that there is nothing wrong but I'm no fool. The separation is there, like a fissure in mountain rock, and it's slowly growing. I cannot pretend it does not exist but any effort I make to address it seems only to make it worse.

As intimate as Kíli and I may be, I do not truly understand what it's like to be a little brother; how can I? I am the elder, weighed with responsibilities, just as Uncle Thorin was the eldest of three. Ma was the youngest but she's a girl; it's not the same.

I wish I could ask Da. He was a little brother.

He would know what to do.

Three weeks pass. With all the work I'd been doing in Uncle's forge I'd fallen awfully behind in my studies, and so one hot morning I find myself trying to catch up on my reading assignments. I sit alone in a stifling little room for hours on end with an intimidating collection of Balin's political tomes and scrolls, the heat growing steadily more oppressive as time ticks slowly onward. Despite my great self-discipline, after a while I find myself yawning and struggling enormously to focus on the pages before me. I'm just about ready to bludgeon myself to death with a particular ten-pound tome when deliverance suddenly comes in the form of my impudent little brother.

"Lunchtime! I offer thee sustenance and freedom from thy vile prison," he pipes as he sticks his head into the stuffy space. "Glory, it's hot in here!"

"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," I reply dryly, practically throwing the tome aside with utter disgust.

Kíli grins at me. "Something tells me you could use some... cooling off... after we eat. Somewhere wet. Somewhere splash-worthy. Mmm?"

The way Kíli's face practically glows with merriment and mischief says it all. His eyes, I can read them like a book:

Please, let's go out today, Big Brother. No more excuses.

As I miserably wipe the perspiration from my forehead I know I can't turn him down, and a huge grin creeps its way across my face before I'm even aware of it. Kíli whoops loudly in response, disappears and goes bounding down the hall, leaving me to push away my work with distaste and eagerly leap to my feet.

Giddy with excitement Kíli practically scarfs down his lunch, but I force myself to eat normally and calmly. One of us still ought to remember his manners, anyhow, though I cannot tell if our Mother's distantly-clouded expression is due to my brother's atrocious etiquette or not.

"Kee and I were thinking of going out this afternoon, Mum," I casually announce between chews.

Kíli splutters and chokes with surprise, almost dropping his glass; apparently he'd thought I'd keep our outing a secret, though I cannot imagine why. Mother raises her eyebrows at my brother's unbecoming outburst, and I unhand my sandwich long enough to thump him soundly on the back.

"Milk's too warm," he eventually squawks, voice cracking. Mother stares at him closely for another moment, faintly amused, before turning to me.

"Where were you thinking of going, then?"

I open my mouth to tell her but Kíli kicks me under the table—hard—and I shut my mouth quickly. Feeling massively confused by his reaction but fearing of saying something I am apparently not supposed to, I mentally scrabble for an answer that will satisfy both parties.

"Oh, well, we're not sure yet," I lie smoothly, redirecting my attention to my plate. I am aware that is not a sufficient reply and I can practically feel Kíli screaming at me in his head; after a moment I continue. "We just want to be somewhere— somewhere… um, cool," I finish lamely.

I sneak a discreet glance at Kíli. Well, that was artfully done, his dour expression tells me.

She nods after a pause, standing to gather the dishes. "Well, you'd better be staying here, then. There's nowhere cool out of doors today; it's a scorcher. Thorin wants you out of the heat, with all you've been doing in the forge. You needn't overtax yourselves when there is much work ahead in the days to come. You both need rest."

Kíli and I exchange glances as our mother turns her back. Things are not going in our favor, it would seem. Curious, I venture a question.

"Does he—does Uncle Thorin care if we are nearby?" I ask carefully, ignoring the way Kíli squeezes my wrist in alarm.

"He'd prefer you not out-of-doors, I think," Mother answers slowly, hidden in the kitchen from our view. "Thorin didn't say much, but… You know how he's been. I think you should stay within reach but steer clear; don't go asking him for any favors today." She emerges, shaking her head a little. "He's in a testy mood and it'd be better not to give him any reason to rain his temper down on your heads. Best you two hunker down and stay out of trouble."

Drat, I think glumly. There goes swimming… again.

"I'm going over to Glóin's," she continues, gathering up her sewing basket and a bundle of clothes. "The Missus and I are going to work on our sewing together. I'll be back by dinnertime." She passes us by, pausing long enough to kiss each of us on the temple. "You boys take care of yourselves."

With a swish of her skirts and a gentle slam of the front door she's gone, leaving me and Kíli sitting at the table. Confined to the house like wee bairns, while she does gallivanting about—what rubbish!

"Well, that is that," I sigh, surrendering to my acute disappointment and slumping in my seat. "Guess I'll just go back studying Durin's ancient laws of No-One-Really-Cares."

Kíli frowns, swiping the back of his hand across his temple as though he could wipe away the offending kiss. "Whaddya mean?" he demands incredulously. "We're going out."

I roll my head to the side and eye him sternly. "Didn't you hear anything Mum just said?"

"Aye, and she didn't tell us we couldn't go," Kíli insists with a little bob of his head. "She said we should stay within reach. The creek's not that far."

"It's not that close, either, and Uncle Thorin—"

"—Wants us out of the heat," my brother interrupts emphatically, "And we will be! The whole point of swimming is to cool down and he wants us well-rested for next week's forging, so in essence we're doing exactly what he wants."

I snort at Kíli's childish string of logic. Kíli has the most creative streak of reasoning I have ever known, as horrendously faulty as it usually is. "You know as well as I do that's not so, Little Brother."

"And why can't it be?"

"Because it's not."

"Says who?"

"Mahal, Kíli!—"

"Nobody told us we can't go," he insists in frustration, his voice teetering on the edge of a whine. "Why are you making things difficult?"

"Kíli, be reasonable. We didn't get permission, and if we had asked, the answer clearly would have been No," I explain as patiently as I can. "As it is Mum practically said No already, and we already know Uncle would."

"But we weren't expressly forbidden from going out, and you need this as much as I do—"

"We didn't get permission. Period."

"Come on, Fíli," Kíli pleads now, grabbing my arm and trying to catch my eye, "It's not a big deal. Uncle won't need us today. He gave us the day off to do whatever we wanted. Ma won't care. She just doesn't want us to get into trouble with him for no reason."

"That makes two of us," I grunt, pointedly evading the painfully appealing look on the youngster's face.

"But we won't get into trouble; it's not like we're going to be doing anything wrong!"

"Then why," I demand briskly, "Were you so adamant about me not telling Mum? Eh? If it's something we should be doing, why wouldn't you let me tell her?"

He takes a sharp breath but stops, staring back at me with wide eyes. He blinks, falters, and looks away.

I sigh, aggravated. "Yeah. That's what I thought." I stand up abruptly and push my chair away. "Kíli, don't fake naiveté; it doesn't become you. Don't play the fool when you know better."

My brother winces at my words and I immediately regret them.

"I-It's not that I was trying to… to get away with something bad," he murmurs, pulling at a loose thread on his sleeve. "I just know that Mum would find a reason to object. That's what elders do; they always find some stupid excuse not to have fun. But I figured that since it's our day off, what we do is our business as long as we behave ourselves. We wouldn't be doing something wrong or unsafe; I mean, we've gone to the creek before." He sighs deeply. "I'd just hoped we'd have some time to ourselves, without her or Uncle breathing down our necks, is all."

I look down at him and his hunched shoulders as he sits forlornly at the table, and all of a sudden I feel I have done something wrong all over again. It's a hateful thing, to always feel like one can never say or do the right thing.

"Kíli… I'm sorry," I tell him honestly. I feel like I've been saying that a lot lately, and now I'm not even sure what I am apologizing for, but my words are deeply heart-felt nonetheless. What else can be said?

He nods, not looking up. "I know." His voice is oddly deep, resigned, the way it is when he is very fatigued… or downhearted. "You care about how your actions affect Mother and Uncle, and you want to respect their authority. I understand."

I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing what my brother is clearly saying between the lines:

You care more about them than you care about me. But that's okay. I get it.

"I'm just trying to be responsible and not get either of us into unnecessary trouble," I offer, dejected. "It's not that I want to be a killjoy."

"Oh, I know," he laughs weakly. He turns and looks over his shoulder at me with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Just… Remember when we used to get into harmless trouble all the time? Nothing serious, just…"

"Kids' stuff?" I supply with a wry smile.

"Aye, that. Sometimes I wonder what changed."

I laugh a little. "Us not being kids anymore, most likely."

He looks at me somberly. "You not being a kid anymore," he points out matter-of-factly.

I swallow hard at that, smote by the undeniable truth in his gentle accusation. Hasn't that been my problem all along? Growing up and leaving Kíli behind? I've been all in knots about how he can't seem to grow up enough to accompany me on this latest life transition. I hadn't considered that maybe, just maybe, he's been wishing I would just slow down and stay with him in his time of life.

And since when have things changed so much that I can't let loose and have a little 'harmless' fun with my brother? Since when have I become so rigid and strict with myself, and with him? We are only young once, after all.

Kíli turns away and I stare at the back of his head, torn between my ever-growing sense of responsibility and my overwhelming need to show my brother that he is important. The internal warning signals of my 'elder brother sensibilities' hum in my ears, warning me that going to the creek is somehow an ill-advised act laced with deceit and maybe even disobedience, though I can't understand how. Granted, strong suggestions in our household almost always stand for cloaked commands, and yet. . .

Oh, nuts.

Sensibilities be confounded.

With a small, mischievous smile, I walk up behind Kíli and circle my arms loosely around him, teasingly butting my head against his.

"Let's both be kids today," I declare lightly. "And seize the afternoon for ourselves."

My brother looks up at me side-ways and smiles hopefully. I grin back at him, an untold warmth blooming inside my chest.

By the time we reach sight of the creek's shoreline Kíli is so feverishly excited that he starts ripping off his shirt even as he is racing towards the water, running so quickly down the hillside it's a wonder he doesn't break his neck. Approaching the water's edge he forcefully throws his clothes and boots aside before he goes crashing into the creek. With an almighty yell he hurls himself forward, and promptly disappears beneath the sparkling surface in a mess of churning waves and foam. In a great show of loud splutters and gasps Kíli soon comes up for air, spurting a stream of water out of his mouth while shaking the wet hair out of his face and laughing out of sheer relief.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" he cries. "Cool, cool, cool water that banishes this accursed heat if only for a short while!"

Smiling at him indulgently I start picking up his scattered discarded clothes and laying them aside, lest he lose them as he is prone to do. "Are you happy now, Little Brother?" I chuckle.

"You bet your hair beads, I am!" he chirps back, swishing his arms through the water. Taking note of my actions he suddenly points at me and orders fiercely—"Oi, you! Mind you don't go hiding my underdrawers again. I don't fancy fetching them from a thistle patch like last time."

"Come, come now, Kíli. I am appalled. That was ages ago and I don't engage in such questionable activities anymore," I sniff indignantly, laying aside my own shirt in the sparse grass.

"Oh no indeed; hasn't been for ages," Kíli drawls, folding his hands dramatically over his heart; "T'was back in the ancient lore of last summer, in your distant youth, did you so commit such a dreadfully fiendish act against your own and beloved kinsman." He barks a laugh at my mildly affronted expression and dunks himself underwater again before I can retort something clever.

I'm left standing and shaking my head, amused. Laughing, joking… This is what I wanted.

Once fully undressed I quickly wade into the water and briefly douse my head under, shivering momentarily before adjusting to the blessedly refreshing temperature. I sigh with great contentment, scrubbing my eyes with my fists before squinting up into the sunlight shining down on us. Despite the incredible heat it is such a beautiful day, for here the creek lies on the edge of the forest, sheltered by shady trees spaced evenly all around. Light filters through the boughs and shines in dappled patterns across a leaf-strewn ground and the creek's colorless water surface. This place is such a haven of peace and tranquility that I wonder, not for the first time, why Thorin has never been that adamant about us coming here. I grimace to myself; maybe the concept of a happy sunlit creek is too Elvish for him. Maybe enjoyment of nature is too Elvish, too. He probably thinks of us as barbarous little wildlings next to him.

I immediately shake myself out of that train of thought. Nay! Today is about me and Kíli, me and my brother, and our enjoyment of each other's company and something careless and free. Our grouchy uncle is far away working in his dirty little forge, and I'll be darned if I'm going to let his pessimism spoil our fun from afar.

With that last thought I aggressively dive below and swim wide-eyed through the water, diving just short of the murky creek floor before swimming with powerful strokes further downstream. There is something beautiful about swimming like this, something unearthly about coursing through the water like some kind of fish. I rebelliously fantasize about extremely un-dwarvish things, like creatures of the distant sea and a life so opposite to those of land-dwellers, and I try to imagine myself as part of this different world. Such imaginings are most decidedly impractical, childish, and wholly unacceptable, and for this reason I indulge myself to the fullest, thumbing my nose at rules I have abandoned for the day.

Of course, I am soon reminded that I am not a fish borne from the watery depths but a dwarf carved from stone, when I realize that my lungs are fit to burst. I quickly emerge for air and as I gulp deep, intoxicating breaths, I feel refreshed and at great calm as though I have been cleansed in both mind and spirit. Kíli could not have been more right—I needed this.

Grinning, I churn water and look back at said brother, observing him youthfully splashing about in the shallow end. Our unusual father had taught me how to swim when I was very small, and I imagine he would have taught Kíli had he lived long enough to do so; as it is, in all of his years my stubborn brother has inexplicably refused to learn. Sometimes I enjoy flouting my ability under his nose.

"You ought to let me teach you how to swim, you know," I call teasingly, "So you don't have to flail around by the shore like a beached trout."

His head spins around a few times before he sees where I've gone. He makes a face. "I can manage just fine, thank you."

I laugh gaily. "Floating on your back like a dumb log does not count, Kíli."

He stands straight up at that and mock-glares at me. "You calling me dumb, warg-breath?"

My grin never fades. "What's it you, whelp?"

"I demand satisfaction, pig!"

"And if I refuse, crow bait?"

"Then I'll come out and get you!"

I guffaw. "What a lark! Not until you learn how to swim you can't!"

He growls loudly in a false show of temper and smashes his fists against the water. "Coward!" he hollers, almost laughing. "Come back here; I dare you to come within my reach!"

Chortling, I immediately dive back down and swim quickly upstream, unseen beneath the water as I come closer and closer to where my big-mouthed brother stands on the shallow creek floor. As soon as I can make out his form I plunge head-long into him, grabbing his legs and pulling him down into the water. I don't hold him down, of course, but instead I breach the surface and wait for him to find his footing again, sniggering with great amusement. He coughs roughly and flails about as he struggles to his feet, but his dark eyes gleam dangerously and the evil smirk on his face spells trouble.

We commence, of course, with an impressive water fight that goes on for the better part of an hour. Our yells and awkward battle cries send the birds fleeing dismayed from the trees, and I most decidedly was not the first one to start lodging fistfuls of mud and silt from the creek floor. By the time we are finished and are laughing breathlessly our faces are dark with filth, our hair mussed and tangled and smelly. I can't untangle the slimy leaves Kíli mercilessly ground into my hair, and Kíli hasn't noticed the limp feather dangling by his ear from when I'd thrown that last mud pie at him, but we can't stop laughing and I don't remember the last time I've felt this happy. We both look altogether ridiculous and it's surely the most fun we've had in far too long.

After we've washed ourselves off we stumble out of the creek, panting for breath, and crawl onto the towels we'd brought along. We stretch out in the now-comfortable afternoon sun, drinking in the peaceful silence of nature as interrupted only by the quiet lapping waters of the creek.

I fold my arms behind my head and sigh. "That… That was fun."

Kíli shifts beside me. "Indeed," he murmurs, laying his right arm across his eyes. He takes a breath to speak, then pauses uncertainly before finally admitting his thoughts. "I've missed us just being free."

That little confession says so much. Missing being young, missing not having to work like a grown-up, missing playing around, missing spending time with a brother… missing the glorious, innocent, summer afternoons like that of today. I understand.

"Me too," I quietly agree.

We lay in companionable silence for quite some time. I think of all the years spent gallivanting about Ered Luin with my brother and I try to remember when the simplicity of our existence began to change. That is to say, when it began to change for me. Kíli's existence seems little altered, and he is still a young dwarfling in so many ways. He continues to roll down grassy hills, climb every tree he can find, and go hunting for pixies under large mushrooms. How I envy him. I can't imagine him any other way and yet I wonder what he'll be like when his eyes open someday and he sees the world for what it really is, as I have.

I turn my head a little to gaze thoughtfully at my brother as he rests, oblivious to my gentle stare. His dark hair is dusted with light yellow sand, and his fair skin is reddened and freckled on his shoulders from the hot sun. His face and upper body have begun to bronze dark from all the days spent training with the master hunter, though the color is somewhat faded now as he's abandoned hunting to help work almost full-time in the forge. In this manner my eyes trace over his features, which for years have been memorized in my mind, and as I notice all the small discrepancies I slowly realize that even Kíli is changing.

Marveling at my own blindness, I look away from him and shut my eyes to slowly ingest this little discovery. Though there are many moments when I fervently wish Kíli would hurry and grow up—for this walk of inexplicable confusion and maturity is so lonely—I find myself partly clinging to that childlike nature of his. It's the only thing that hasn't changed in my life, the only thing that doesn't seem strange or false or ill-fitting. What an irony that the one thing that's remained constant is also the very thing I constantly gripe about wanting to change.

Right now, none of it matters. For this one, blissful afternoon in time I can believe that nothing is different, that things are as they should be, and that Fíli-and-Kíli is the single mischievous entity it has always been.

I'm not sure how long we lay there, for I think I am almost asleep when Kíli suddenly stirs and perks up.

"You don't think someone will come along?"

His tone is one so worried I open my eyes immediately and turn to look at him. He's raised himself up on his elbows and looks about nervously.

"Why?" I ask, frowning. A few quick glances around assure me that we are still alone.

He turns to me, incredulous. "We're naked!" he says, as if only just realizing it for the first time. "What if someone sees?"

I smirk, amused by his sudden modesty. "What, out here? Then get dressed, if you're so concerned."

He pouts. "But I don't want to, yet."

"Well then," I yawn, stretching and sitting up, "We'll have to get back into the creek and force ourselves to have some more fun." I whisper to him conspiratorially: "Just to be safe, of course."

He turns to me, flashing his trademark sunbeam smile. "I like your way of thinking."

I bark a laugh as I rise stiffly to my feet. "Only when it's synonymous with yours."

"Exactly!"

"Idiot," I scoff lightly.

"Big-shot," he snorts.

Laughing, I grab him by the shoulder and we scamper back into the water like we haven't got a care in the world.

As the saying goes, time flies by when you are having fun. And fun we have—so much so that we don't realize how long we've been gone until the shadows grow long on the ground and the light begins fading fast. Bright orange and red streaks of color pierce sharply against a darkening, near-twilight sky when Kíli and I finally haul ourselves out of the creek, our fingers wrinkled like prunes. Quickly we rub ourselves as dry as we can before shimmying into our clothes, gasping and laughing.

A cooler breeze blows softly over our heads as we cut across the fields, our footsteps falling in whispered thuds through the tall grasses. At one point Kíli sneezes so violently that he trips sharply and almost falls flat on his face, which he would have if it hadn't been for me grabbing hold of his arm. He gives a sort of half-giggle at the near accident and I grab his hand with a guffaw, pulling him hurriedly along. Sunset's dying light roars over the nearby wheat crops like dragon flame, filling the surrounding landscape with a kind of glow, and as we race against the growing darkness for home a soft wave of nostalgia washes over me. We've roamed these fields of bell heather and corn flowers since we were small, running home on countless occasions just like this. We often barely made it to dinner on time, frequently earning ourselves stern words of warning from our mother or uncle, but we were young and forgetful and the outside world was ever host to endless curiosities. They rarely scolded us harshly, far too amused as they were by the twigs and brambles and wild stories we dragged in along with us.

It seems some things never change. By the time we skid to a stop by the back door, we've been gone far longer than is acceptable without permission. Darkness has all but fallen when we slip into the kitchen, still snickering shamelessly and shushing each other lightheartedly. Assuming that dinner was delayed in hopes of our return (before all hope was lost and food was served without us), it is surely now far underway if not altogether finished, and Kíli and I are most likely not in high standing at the moment. We tread on tip-toe through the kitchen, our path only lit by the still-burning stove and the light shining in from under the door to the hallway. Hanging our wet towels by the hot stove, we listen intently to the murmur of conversation wafting in from the dining room. There is the occasional clacking of cutlery, but nothing discernable can be overheard beyond the vague sounds of Thorin's deep voice and Mother's clipped tones.

"Botheration," mumbles Kíli, still smiling too broadly. "She sounds a mite annoyed, doesn't she?

"More than a mite, Little Brother," I sigh, suddenly running my fingers self-consciously through my still-dripping hair. "And oh golly, won't we be a sight."

Kíli's hands also find themselves in his hair, and then his over his damp clothes, and he clearly sobers as he too is surely imagining our mother's reaction. Even in the semi-darkness I can see the slight twist to his mouth that means he is beginning to feel properly concerned.

"Too late now," he says, frowning a little. "There's naught for it, I s'pose."

I pat him on the shoulder with a smirk. "Between your sweet eyes and my glib tongue, I think we shall fair alright."

He grins back and gives me a trusting nod. I brace myself and open the kitchen door, both of us cringing as it squeaks loudly. The conversation in the other room stops.

"So much for the element of surprise, huh?" Kíli whispers.

I cast him a wry look before passing into the hallway and begin heading towards the dining room.

Mother sits with her back towards us but Uncle Thorin, who seems to have finished eating, is sitting with his hands folded before him and his head turned in our direction, obviously waiting for our arrival. His gaze clouds when he lays eyes on us and he clears his throat, evidently to alert our mother; she turns in her chair and frowns at us, jaw tense. I immediately forget my jolly mood and I suspect Kíli does as well; we pause awkwardly under the archway, hovering on the border of the dining room. One look at the displeased expressions on their faces and I know I'd better speak first while I still have the chance.

"Good evening Mum, Uncle," I begin quickly and politely, figuring I had better start things on the right foot. "We apologize for our late arrival. We roamed too long and recalled ourselves too late to make it back in time, though we made every effort to return quickly. Even though our tardiness was far from intentional we know it was still mighty disrespectful on our parts. We hope that we haven't caused unnecessary worry and are truly sorry if we have. It will not happen again."

There—apology, explanation, repentance, and promise, all in one easy declaration. I almost surprise myself at how good at this I've become. Granted, my words are admittedly very formal but I am hoping that it will soothe any ruffled feathers and lessen the blow of rebuke. Kíli bobs his head in assent so quickly that water droplets fly from his wet hair, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead I stand gravely, waiting, and can only hope that Kíli is putting those huge eyes of his to work, puppy-dog look turned on to full intensity. I can sense we will need it.

The two elder dwarves share a look and turn back to us. There is a short silence as they both take in our appearance and I am painfully aware of how wet my shirt has become beneath my slowly-drying hair.

Mother's eyebrows furrow even further. "Why didn't you tell me you were going out?" she asks sharply.

"We hadn't decided, then," I reply carefully, but honestly. "And when we had, you were visiting at Glóin's. We didn't think you would mind."

"Didn't I tell you to stay inside?" she persists. "And that your uncle desired it as well?"

"No, Ma'am," I reply slowly, quailing slightly as her eyes flash; "You said that it would perhaps be better if we stayed in because of the heat, but—" I hurry to finish as she opens her mouth; "—Mum, it was so confoundedly hot, even inside, that Kíli and I thought of a better way to cool off. T'was a better solution than the one you suggested, is all; a better means to the same end."

Mother pauses at that, glancing from me to my brother and back. A resigned sigh escapes her. "So I can see," she says dryly. With a weary air she gets up from the table and starts to gather the dirty dishes, once again sharing a glance with Thorin.

Uncle is the one to ask the ultimate question. "And where exactly did you find this 'better means to the same end'?" he queries, though I'm sure he already knows the answer. "Where did you go?"

"To the creek," Kíli supplies with inappropriate enthusiasm. "And it was perfect on a day like this."

I'm about to give my cheeky brother a murderous glare when I suddenly notice that our mother has frozen in place and gone quite pale.

"Dís?" Thorin murmurs, questioningly.

She seems to snap back to herself, then; with a few rapid blinks and a deep breath, Mother looks up at Thorin and then at us. A new wave of anger seems to sweep over her and but she maintains her calm, though obviously with no small effort.

"Both of you sit down," she orders calmly. "I will not have you go without supper, even if you cannot bring yourself to be here on time for when it is served."

We obey her meekly. With an air of restrained temper she fetches two bowls of stew from the kitchen, drops them unceremoniously on the table before us, and strides from the room. With one last frown directed our way, Uncle Thorin stands up and follows her out. My brother and I share another glance, and not knowing what else to do we pick up our spoons and silently eat.

The minutes pass by and the house remains silent, except for the distant murmurs of our elders' voices occasionally drifting in from somewhere nearby. Confused and concerned, Kíli and I eat quickly in expectation of their return; however, as time slowly passes my anxiety grows, even as my brother seems to become more relaxed. A typical silent conversation between us, communicated only through looks and expressions, is enough to tell me that Kíli is rapidly becoming convinced that we will soon be in the clear. Always most fearful of loud voices and altercations, he is certain that the strained quiet in the other room signals a cooling-down of temper. When we hear Thorin raise his voice slightly Kíli smiles a little at me; recognizing a certain tone in Thorin's voice, he figures that Mother is the one who is truly angry and Uncle is trying to intervene for us. I, on the other hand, am always more concerned with unnatural quiet. It is like the proverbial calm before the storm, and alas, the only thing worse than a storm itself is when one is nervously awaiting its arrival. There was something troubling about our mother's reaction that puts me ill at ease. Indeed, by the time we have emptied our bowls I am almost ready to go searching for Mum and Uncle to apologize all over again, while Kíli merely looks bored as he fidgets uncomfortably in his chair.

Just then the two dwarves return. Mother whisks our bowls away, not hearing or otherwise not acknowledging our murmured 'thank-yous' for the meal. Thorin clears his throat to speak.

"Kíli, it seems that whatever shenanigans you and your brother engaged in certainly left you wet enough," he intones, "So I want you to immediately go dry yourself off lest you continue dripping about like a fish. Then you are to prepare for bed."

"What, now? But it's quite early yet, Uncle," my brother says in surprise, having evidently forgotten our situation long enough to be a little indignant.

Thorin gives him a hard, warning look. "That was not a request, boy, that was an order," he replies, voice impossibly deep.

Kíli hiccups nervously and obediently slips out of his chair quickly to comply. He sends me one secret, encouraging wink as he passes but he is gone before I can react. Thorin follows him with stern eyes until the lad disappears from his view, after which he redirects his rather unwelcome attention to me.

I gather my grown-up courage and straighten slightly in my chair. "Am I in trouble, Uncle?" I ask matter-of-factly.

Thorin looks up as Mother walks in from the kitchen and joins us at the table. "That remains to be seen," he says quietly.

My mother cuts to the chase immediately. "You say you went to the creek."

"Yes'm, the wider piece by the forest edge." I pause at the return of her alarmed expression before continuing a little more defensively, albeit with confusion. "Mum? It was safe. The current was low and the water was clear."

"Safe? You call what you did safe?" she gasps, disbelieving.

Puzzled, I stare at her. "Wouldn't you?"

"I most certainly would not. You left without a word or a note, disappearing for hours to flounder around in that water with a brother who can't swim, and you call that safe? Fíli! Where was your head? What if something had happened? We hadn't the faintest clue where the two of you had gone off to!"

Even though I was prepared for this argument I still prickle under her choice of words.

"Mother, you weren't here for me to ask," I tell her in a reasonable tone of voice. "Under the circumstances I used my best judgment. It was hot, we had the day off, and Kíli and I wanted to be alone together. I've already admitted my fault in losing track of the time. If I had paid more attention we would've been back before you would've grown concerned." I take a silent breath and continue more quietly. "As to Kíli, he was in the shallowest part simply splashing about, in no danger whatsoever. I was the one swimming in deeper water but I know how to swim. You know as well as I do that I would never allow anything happen to him. I was looking out for him; I promise."

A myriad of emotions, ranging from sorrow to fury, plays out on my mother's face so quickly I can't quite follow her mood. Eventually her face darkens in solid anger once more, and she folds her arms while huffing crossly. "Well! I am glad that you recognize at least a part of your error, but if that was you acting in your best judgment today, then I have clearly failed in teaching you common sense!"

Uncle lays a hand on her arm at that. "Dís, please," he murmurs quietly.

She wrenches her arm from beneath his touch as though burned. "Don't 'Dís, please' me, Thorin," she snaps. "This is serious! Fíli, a person can drown in a mere two inches of water! It doesn't matter who swam where, or what, or why—"

"Mum," I groan, laying my hands flat on the table as I lean forward. "There's no way Kíli would drown on my watch. You're being… Y-You're making more out of this than there is!"

"Oh, I am, am I?" she responds, sounding more worried now. "What if he had slipped and fallen when your back was turned? W-What if he had hit his head and gone under? He could've succumbed in moments, and by the time you would have noticed, he could've been out of reach. With you two alone way out there, nobody would have been there to help you if something awful had happened."

"Mum, for goodness sake!—"

"I know your good intentions, Fíli, but no matter what way you look at it, going out alone in the secretive manner that you did was downright foolish." She holds her hands out in front of her. "End of story."

"No, Mother, that's not 'in any way' one looks at it; you're just looking at it in one way, the worse possible way." My fingers curl slowly into fists while my breath inadvertently quickens. I remind myself to keep a civil tongue. "With that kind of reasoning, danger lurks around every corner of existence and it is almost better not step out of one's door at all! With your view I could just as easily argue that sitting inside this room is dangerous because the stone and timbers could collapse on us. Look, I recognize that anything can happen at any time, but—"

"Your father drowned!" she suddenly cries out in a strained voice, hands slamming sharply on the table. "Drowned, Fíli! Drowned! And he knew how to swim. Regardless of your abilities, something could have happened to you as well! And I don't care how well you were looking after your brother—Jóli drowned and there were people all around him! It can happen in a heartbeat, regardless of intentions or precautions or whatever else! Can't you see that?"

Her words come like a whiplash and I fall back into my chair, stunned and emotionally reeling by her outburst. Immediately my throat tightens with age-old grief.

How could I have been so daft? Mahal, how could I have forgotten? No wonder she is upset.

Mother stares back at me, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths, her face etched with pain and regret. Even Uncle appears unsettled as he gazes at her from beneath dark brows, evidently surprised by her outburst. No one speaks at first, and the silence lays thick and heavy in the charged air for several long and painful moments while both my mother and I struggle to regain our composure.

Intellectually I know her fears are understandable; the thought of losing her sons to the same fate as her husband is an unimaginable horror. A mother will always worry. Emotionally, however, I feel violated; bludgeoned by black memories of pain and loss, all for a simple mistake.

"That's not fair," I finally whisper. "That was an entirely different situation."

Mother takes a shaky breath. "He drowned in that same creek, Fíli," she says hoarsely, blue eyes glistening now with unshed tears.

A terrified shiver rattles through my bones at that reminder. However, I remain in emotional denial.

"It's not the same!" I cry out, cursing the awful catch in my voice. "Father jumped into a swollen torrent in the middle of an autumn storm and gave his life to rescue stranded children. He wasn't playfully wading in sunlit waters on a summer afternoon." I fight hard to keep my voice steady. "I-It is wrong to compare things so."

You haven't the right. How dare you.

At this point Thorin intervenes. He takes his little sister's hand in a comforting gesture and meets her gaze, but he wordlessly reprimands her with a stern, reproachful look. Mother drops her head and covers her eyes with her free hand.

"You are right, Fíli," Thorin tells me quietly. "That was a different scenario and it has no place in this matter, not like that. Your and your brother's... youthful antics... cannot and will not be judged by your father's sacrifice." He tries to catch my eye, face softening. "Agreed?"

I swallow hard, the back of my eyes beginning to sting. Our gazes meet briefly and I nod softly.

After my acknowledgement, Thorin inhales slowly and plows on, features hardening once more. "However," he says sternly, "Your mother is correct to a point. Your actions were unwise because you did not take the necessary precautions. Accidents can happen at any time, in any place, in any form. Disappearing on your own without word was a poor decision on your part, one made most likely due to your brother's whims and the misplaced desire for privacy. Am I correct?"

Reluctant to push the blame on Kíli, but knowing Uncle speaks the truth, I am forced to acquiesce. After some hesitation I nod, and again he continues to speak.

"We need to know when either or both of you are leaving the village grounds for any reason, at any time. You cannot run off without our knowledge. You know this well; it is nothing new. It is a principle rule of this household; a basic safety precaution that you lads have always adhered to. It may seem purely like an old man's pessimism, Fíli, but danger does lurk around every corner, where you least expect it." He stops there, glances away and sighs wearily. "In any case, you boys are old enough know better. I am surprised at you both."

"Fíli, I… I apologize," Mother murmurs at last, sounding ashamed. "I was very worried when I found the house empty and nobody knew your whereabouts. A-And when you two just pranced in here at such a late hour and said y-you'd been at that creek this whole time, I just… The thought of what could have happened… I-It just made me afraid." She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "I am sorry for the way I reacted. But—all I ask is that you please don't do that again. I need to know where you boys are when you are planning to be gone for so long."

My heart still beats at an irregular pace and my throat remains constricted. I sympathize with my mother—Eru knows how much I love and understand her—but she cannot take back the pain caused over what has transpired. I cannot so quickly forgive her in my heart for sharply prodding my deepest wound for the sake of rebuking my temporary lapse of judgment.

I want to pull my hand away but I do not wish to behave unkindly when she has humbled herself and repented. With great self-discipline I swallow my feelings and make myself raise my head to look at her. I offer a nod of acceptance.

"I understand, Mother," I tell her, voice calm and normal. "I am sorry for not acting with greater care and for causing you such distress. I deeply apologize." With a small squeeze to her hand I conclude: "It will not happen again."

She returns a watery smile. "Thank you… And apology accepted." She releases my hand, and I carefully withdraw it and fold my hands in my lap.

"On both our parts," Thorin puts in with a firm nod of his own. "From here on out the matter is closed as far as the three of us are concerned. I will, however, want to speak to your brother as well. Go now to prepare for bed, Fíli, and send him in, alright?"

"Yes, Uncle," I reply in a tight voice. All I want in that moment is to be alone, to get away from this dreadful confrontation, and be left to deal with my thoughts in private. I rise eagerly to my feet and am turning to go when Thorin calls me by name. I stop reluctantly.

"Fíli, look at me," he quietly orders.

A deep sigh escapes me involuntarily as I obey. Mother looks exhausted and a little pale; Thorin still holds her hand, and he looks at me with a knowing expression, his weary eyes full of compassion. He knows I am still troubled.

"We all make foolish mistakes, lad," he tells me seriously. "Do not let this eat at you. It is over and done with."

I find it a weak comfort in this moment but the grown-up part of my mind tells me he is right. It is only that my heart refuses to listen.

"Aye, Uncle," I sigh after a moment. "So it would seem."

A slow walk through the dark hallways leading to the bedroom proves to be therapeutic, giving me enough time to briefly gather my emotions and put them in order long enough to speak with my brother. There is no way I am going to tell him what transpired; it is unnecessary for both of us to suffer so pointlessly. When I open the bedroom door I find Kíli in his nightclothes and sitting on his bed, frowning in annoyance and steadily beating his heel against the frame. He looks up when I arrive and smirks at me mirthlessly.

"How'd it go?" he asks dryly. "Sounded quiet enough so I figured it wasn't too bad."

I shake my head and shrug a little, looking away. "Well enough, I suppose. A stern reprimand, early bedtime… s'alright."

"Sent to bed, indeed," Kíli fumes. "How old does he think we are?"

"None of that, now. Be thankful we didn't get restricted to the house or something," I say in a rather severe tone. "Now wipe that scowl off your face and get up. Uncle wants to talk to you, and it'll go smoother for you if you look penitent instead of petulant."

He huffs and drags himself off the bed. "Pugh! It's not like we really did anything that wrong, anyway. Leave it to grown-ups to get all worked up."

"Enough, Kíli," I reprimand him quietly, while I begin roughly pulling off my clothes. "We caused Mum a lot of worry."

Kíli trudges to the door, grumbling. "She's always worrying," he mumbles as he slips out the door and half-slams it behind him.

In the silence that follows I release the shuddering breath I'd been holding, and the thoughts swirl wildly in my head. Mahal, I knew better! How could I have given into Kíli's pestering? But I know why I did it. All I'd wanted was for Kíli to know that still I care about him and our relationship just as much as I care about what Mum and Uncle think of me. I was tired of denying him that special outing meant just for us. I wanted him to feel needed and desired.

But was this carelessness worth it? Was an attempt to regain closeness with my brother and experience old freedoms worth bending the rules and letting go just a little bit?

"Remember when we used to get into harmless trouble all the time?"

Oh, Kíli was right. It's not a big deal, surely. We had our fun and maybe it was not carried out in the smartest of fashions, but nothing happened, and that's all that matters in the end, right? Then a cruel memory flashes sharply in my mind's eye.

Da is dead and his face is white. His eyes are hidden beneath closed lids and he does not smile. His golden hair is a dull blond. His hands are folded neatly over his chest, fingers closed around the hilt of his sword. . .

Distraught, I sink onto my bed and bury my face in my hands.

"I'm no longer a child," I whisper to myself in self-rebuke. "There's no such thing as 'harmless' anymore."

We all make foolish mistakes.

To be continued…

A/N: Jeepers creepers, this chapter just refused to call it quits and be finished. It would've never been completed if I hadn't had the willing reading assistance of MistakenMagic! Her simple feedback gave me the kick-start I needed to put the final touches in place and enhance this chapter's unique voice. Thanks, you sweetheart. :D

Oh, by the way, you may recognize that last italicized excerpt describing Jóli's funeral from my short series "Grab My Hand". Just thought I'd mention that.

Send my feathered muse a scrumptious crumpet of a review, pwease?