Right, new chapter? I'm really keeping up well at the moment, I'm impressed with myself.
A little information beforehand, because I've been asked if I wanted to continue this story or not. The story was actually planned as three chaptered, maximum. But right now the ideas are coming in nicely and you guys are absolutely great so I don't see any reason to finish it anytime soon. We'll travel to Erebor but of course not in exactly the same manner as it is in the book, because then you could just read the book and that would be boring for me. I will change bits and bops as I go along, so if you have any questions on why I put this there and nowhere else or what that is all about, just inbox me. I will however only use information given by Tolkien, so I won't start making random stuff up. No worries here.
I'm really thrilled that you guys seem to enjoy the story so much so thank you to each and every one who reviews, favours or follows!
Sometime after lunch on the following day, an elf knocked on the door to Kílis room. As expected, the brothers had spent the entire morning together, not being separated even once and nobody really tried to. While Thorin had come by sometime over breakfast, not saying a single word to Fíli but merrily chatting with Kíli, he had spent midday with Balin and Gandalf, offside the garden of the elves since he still refused to stay within the House of Elrond for longer than necessary. The remaining dwarves and the hobbit had either tried their best or worst not to irritate the elves, whereat Bifur and Bofur had not only managed to plunder Lord Elronds wine cellar but also to break a vase from the Second Age. After an estimation of its monetary value by treasurer Glóin, they had sunk the shards in the river, hoping that no one would notice.
As it knocked on the door, the two youngsters sat on the bed, busy playing cards, smoking pipes and betting on other peoples' money. Both of them looked up when the elf entered the room.
"The Lord of Thorin's Halls requests to see his older nephew", he explained, sounding so noble that Kíli wrinkled his nose.
"What, now?", Fíli asked, puzzled. Had Thorin suddenly changed his mind or was he in for the worst dressing down of his life?
"He is out by the pavilion. If you would follow me?"
"If you go now, I'll win!", Kíli bluntly decided but quickly hushed when he noticed the distressed look on his brothers face. "He'll be there in a minute", he stated and more or less shooed the elf out of the room.
"This is going to be the end of me", Fíli stated blankly.
"Oh come on now, don't be such an elf", Kíli grumbled, whereby one needs to know that elf had become their new term for dramaqueen.
"He despises me. I know it. I just know it."
"He doesn't despise you, you're his family."
"He'll be angry."
"Yes, but he's always angry so that doesn't matter. Just go and listen to what he has to say. You've got nothing to lose."
Kíli reached for his brothers' hand and gently squeezed it.
"You will sort that out, right? Families shouldn't fight."
Fíli gave a crooked smile before he got up and left the room, looking over his shoulder at the door to find his widely grinning brother, obviously still high on the elvish medication. Oh how he sometimes wished to be so carefree.
Thorin awaited him at the pavilion looking over the river, seemingly calm and collected, still Fíli hesitated for a moment, before he stepped onto the marble floor. They stood surrounded by beautiful light pillars entwined by bright green ivy that formed the roof of the pavilion. For a moment, Fíli just stood amazed by the sheer beauty of the place, before Thorin spoke up.
"I see you finally washed yourself", his voice sounded just as calm as the look on his face was.
"Well, yes."
"How is your neck?"
"Better."
The youngster awkwardly shuffled from one foot to the next, touching the white bandage around his neck, that peaked from his thick leather vest, not really sure where to look.
"Are you aware of what you did yesterday?"
Fíli closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew it. He knew it all along, Thorin had called him here to tell him off and he would have no other choice but to agree and apologize.
"Not only did you offend me", Thorin began, well aware of the pain he caused his nephew right now. "You also disrespected me before our comrades and ridiculed me before an elf. Not once in my life has anyone ever spoken to me like that."
"I'm so-", Fíli began but Thorin cut him off with a sharp "Shut your mouth when I'm talking to you!"
Fíli flinched, his gaze fixed on his boots.
For a long while Thorin did not say anything, eyeing his nephew and somewhere in the back they heard the calm splashing of the Bruinen.
"I've never been more proud of you."
Immediately Fílis gaze rocketed upwards, staring at his uncle in sheer disbelief.
"What?"
"Remember when I told you that it is the upmost duty of any dwarf and especially of an heir of Durin, to protect their loved ones?"
"Yes", Fíli replied, unsure of what was to come.
"Yesterday your learned the lesson that sometimes, it is even necessary to protect them from their own kin. And you protected your brother bravely."
"But I messed up. I caused all of this in the first place!"
"And you stood up for it. You did what you thought was right and I can ask no more from you than that."
A massive weight fell from Fílis chest. His legs felt wobbly, his heart was racing and for a moment he believed to pass out but firmly stood his ground. Thorin smirked a little, content with the distress he had caused his nephew and thereby probably taught him yet another lesson. To face one's fears.
He stepped towards the youngster and pulled him into a tight embrace, that Fíli returned, relieved and loving. As they parted again, Thorin placed his hands on his nephews shoulders and Fíli finally recognized the stern but caring father figure again, that Thorin had always been for him and his brother.
"I better take over again from here on, shan't I?"
"Yes. Yes, please do. If I have to deal with elves one more time I will go mad."
And his uncle laughed and Fíli laughed with him, like they had always done in the old days in Thorin's Halls, the Kingdom in the Blue Mountains.
In the evening, the dwarves had prepared a bonfire on the wide balcony of Kílis room, letting their injured pet of the family enjoy the feast with them. They were jolly and noisy, feasting on various elvish delicacies and even a wild boar, that Dwalin had brought, declaring he was 'sick of d'em friggin' weeds!'.
Bilbo, who had still not gotten used to dwarvish festivity, sat amongst them, a pint of mead in both hands, listening to the stories and jokes, smiling gleefully. Their song and laughter occasionally caused an elf to glare up to the balcony but none of them dared to cut in on the unvented party, for they were quite glad that the dwarves stayed among themselves and did not wander around the city.
Thorin and Fíli had both settled down on Kílis bed, one to each side of the youngest and chatted amongst each other, occasionally cheering Bombur on, who had a bet going with Nori and Bofur as to how many grilled onions he could eat without having to fart.
The pain and anger of the previous days seemed long forgotten and at the back of the balcony, Gandalf and Balin sat together, both smiling contently at the reunited family.
When nightfall came and the bonfire had burned down to a smoulder, they grabbed their flutes and fiddles, fireflies dancing to the tunes and the deep voices of the dwarves echoed across the valley.
The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone,
When Durin woke and walked alone.
Kíli sat listening, his eyes closed, leaning against his brothers' shoulder. His leg itched and his ribs hurt but none of that mattered. They had made it, they were here and as soon as his wounds had healed a little better, they would set off again on the most exciting journey of his life.
He named the nameless hills and dells,
He drank from yet untasted wells,
He stooped and looked at Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.
Just as Kíli was about to fall asleep, comfortable and warm between his brother and his uncle, did they hear fast steps approaching from below.
"Thorin Oakenshield!", Lord Elronds voice thundered through the corridor and the tall elf entered the room without a knock or any hesitation, followed by a flock of his own kin. The music ebbed away, the dwarves staring at the Lord of Rivendell. Thorin quickly looked from one dwarf to the other, wondering if they had caused any trouble again but none of them seemed aware of such.
"Lord Elrond?", the dwarf replied calmly, getting up from his seat.
"I must ask you and your kin to leave Rivendell immediately."
Thorin stared at Lord Elrond in disbelief. He thus didn't notice Bofur leaning over to Bifur, whispering a quiet "Bollocks, they found that pot!" Little did they know.
"Leave? Tonight?", Thorin required.
"Yes", the elven lord seemed unusually stiff. "It seems that word has gone round of your slaying of the Great Goblin down in the Misty Mountains."
"So?"
"The allies of the goblins are gathering on the other side of the mountain. We do not yet know to what purpose but it cannot be anything good."
Kílis hand searched for Fílis on the blankets and Fíli clasped his brothers fingers reassuringly, even though insecurity was written all over his face.
"But you can not send us away now. What about my brother?", he demanded.
Though Kíli had grown to his old cheerful self again, due to the elvish medicine he was given against the pain, his wounds healed slowly. The broken bones still caused him pain, the young dwarf wore his arm in a sling, his ribs forcing him to be careful when he moved, laughed and breathed. The wound on his leg would heal off soon but walking was painful, running impossible.
"I can not risk troops of orcs raiding Rivendell, looking for you. Not only will you not be safe here, your presence is putting the life of my kin at risk."
With every word that Lord Elrond spoke, Thorins face grew darker. The anger at his nephew for insisting on returning to Rivendell had faded but a new anger awoke in the King. The anger at himself for believing that they would actually, for once, receive earnest help from the elves.
"So that's how it is", he growled, alerting Dwalin and Bifur, who already grabbed their weapons but Thorin raised his hand, signalling them to stay back. "I might have known."
Lord Elrond did not reply, looking at Thorin with his chin held high.
"Comrades, pack your belongings", Thorin ordered. "We're leaving. There is no need to stay in a place where we are not welcome."
"No, Thorin! What about Kíli?", Fíli demanded, his worried glance scurrying from his uncle to Lord Elrond and back again.
"We will provide you with supplies and enough medication for the next few days", Elrond offered. "You shall also have two mules, one for the provisions, one for your brother to ride on. I can not offer you anymore."
Thorin was close to turning the proposal down in the most offensive way possible, when he glanced at Kíli and remembered that walking, especially walking at a fast pace, was impossible for his nephew.
"Agreed", he therefore replied but no sign of gratitude showed on his features, as he merely regarded the offer as a matter of course.
A few moments later, their belongings were packed. They were back in full armour, their weapons in place and Kíli hobbled down the stairs of the pavilion, leaning on his brother and Dori, to find a rather small but chuffy, grey mule standing by the bridge. He immediately missed the ponies.
"Don't worry, young heir of Durin, those mules are sturdy and sure-footed on mountain paths", Elrond explained.
"They better be", Thorin snarled as he passed the elf Lord to join his kin.
The sun had already begun to rise over the mountains when they left Rivendell, Fíli leading Kílis mule while Glóin led a black one carrying their supplies. Gandalf and Thorin walked at the tip of the company and for a while, Gandalf was unsure whether speaking to the King of Thorin's Halls would be a wise idea until Thorin himself spoke up again.
"So what path do we take from here, Master Wizard?"
"Hm, I wonder", the wizard muttered, glancing back at Kíli who did not seem to enjoy the rocky ride on the back of his mule, flinching every now and then, holding his ribs. "We could travel across the High Pass again, hoping that this time we will stay unnoticed or-", Gandalf trailed off.
"Or what?", Thorin asked.
"Or we take the long way round the mountain and pass through the Gap of Rohan."
Thorin didn't look too pleased. Travelling through the Gap of Rohan surely sounded like the safest way, but it would delay them by weeks. Time they did not have, since Thorin was still afraid that the men of the Wilderland would plunder his treasure in Erebor before their arrival.
"So", Gandalf asked. "What do you propose?"
"We'll let Kíli decide", Thorin declared, looking back at his nephew who nearly slipped off his mule.
"What, me?"
The whole company turned around and curiously looked at their youngest.
* the song lyrics have of course not been written by me but by Tolkien. It is the "Song of Durins Awakening".