Disclaimer: The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings and all characters therein are the property of the Tolkien Estate and Wingnut Films. This story is for entertainment only and the author is in no way profiting from it, nor exercising any claims to The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings.

This chapter is being reposted with corrections suggested by Italian Hobbit! Thank you! If I did not receive constructive criticism, I would not grow as a writer!

4. The Last Alliance

Kíli surveyed the small party of elves seeking to join them, only paying partial attention to Legolas' words to his uncle as his eyes lit upon those of the twin sons of Elrond with a smile of genuine welcome. In the years since the marriage of their sister and the departure of their father, the two had become the lords of Rivendell, but the dwarf knew that they were more often to be found abroad. While Bilbo yet dwelt in Erebor, the twin elves had become frequent visitors, and Kíli could not help the small smile that played at his lips upon the thought of the venerable old hobbit who'd passed away peacefully in his sleep almost thirteen years ago now. Their esteemed burglar had lived up to his name once again, though in this instance, it had not been gems or a dragon's secrets he filched, but the ancient animosity between races.

Despite the example given in the friendship of Legolas and Gimli, the relations between the restored Greenwood and Erebor had been fraught with misunderstandings and deliberate slights, going nowhere. That is, until Bilbo Baggins decided to meddle! He had started by seeking permission to have Elrohir and Elladan visit, two elves with whom the dwarrow had never quarreled, knowing that the only thing Durin's Folk were known for beyond their stubbornness was their sense of honor. And given the Company's atrocious behavior when in Rivendell so long ago, he certainly felt that there was a debt to be paid!

Bilbo also knew that the dwarrow would be unable to deny such a simple, albeit uncomfortable, request upon the part of their hobbit; that odd being who had once left his cozy, peaceful home and faced death unprepared upon the slim hope that he could aid the dwarrow in retaking their lost one. So the twin elves had been duly invited and warily welcomed with strained politeness by the inhabitants of the mountain, both sides viewing it as a distasteful situation to be endured for the sake of a white haired, fragile hobbit.

Bilbo, in his turn, had taken shameless advantage of this fact, making the twins accompany him upon his daily wanderings through the markets and artisans' workshops, exposing both sides to the other while his presence also forced them to be upon their best behavior. When Elrohir had tried to object, the cunning hobbit had gotten a familiar twinkle in his eyes, blandly remarking that in his 'feeble condition', surely none would look askance upon friends aiding his steps, even if they happened to be elves!

Soon, everyone involved could not help looking beyond race to find at least acceptance, if not a few outright friendships, before the young lords of Imladris took their leave. This, in turn, had made those negotiating with Thranduil's people a tiny bit more open to the elven viewpoint, as they had learned that not all elves were automatically arrogant fools, inching both sides ever so slightly closer to that hard first step toward true reconciliation, even if it took another hundred years. When an amazed Kíli had cornered the hobbit, asking for the secret to such an astonishing turnabout, Bilbo had smiled perkily.

"Once you realize that someone is just as bewildered by you as you are by them, it is hard to sustain the hate, Kíli. All I did was give both sides faces and names that were not 'dwarf' and 'elf'. Of course, I would not recommend such an approach with any of Sauron's evil get, but… Well, you get the idea."

With their burglar's words ringing in his ears, the younger Prince under the Mountain placed a hand upon his uncle's arm just as Fíli did the same from the other side. Amusement flashed in the deep blue eyes that looked first to him, then to his older brother, and finally settled upon Therin, who had half-raised a hand, being too far from his uncle to touch him as his brothers had.

"I take it the three of you have thoughts upon this matter? Excuse us for a moment."

The last was directed at the elves, several of whom seemed a bit disgruntled with the greeting they had received, but Lord Celeborn simply inclined his head, pulling the large horse he rode back along with Legolas. At a curt gesture from the king, Gimli and Lis joined their kin, the younger warrior sighing in relief at the easy acceptance Thorin showed. No doubt he remembered, as Kíli did, the gruff King-in-exile who would accept advice from very few and criticism from none. Thorin, however, had changed with his resurrection, the experience having shoved his own failings into his face rather dramatically.

Therin, true to his impetuous nature, was the first to speak, making Kíli sigh, holding in his own annoyance. He just did not understand the other, seeing a reckless youth where a prince should stand, and one that was most apt to think of himself first, which baffled Kíli all the more given Bilbo's influence upon his younger brother's formative years. It had long been a source of friction between the two, one which Fíli was aware of, though Kíli had said nothing to anyone else besides Bilbo. The old hobbit had only shrugged with a heavy sigh, saying that Therin took after his uncle in much more than looks, and the young dwarf prince had a very difficult transition, going from the mountain to the Shire and then back again.

"I'd trust Legolas with my life, uncle, but I am wary of aid offered by any other, especially when we did not ask it of them. If someone offers me wine when I am not thirsty and knows of my dislike for it, should I thank them for the courtesy? Or take it as the insult it is meant to be? Send them away!"

"Is that what Bilbo would have said to such a sentiment? We did not ask for aid from the Shire, either, and yet they offered. Was that, too, meant as an insult?"

The brunette could not help needling the other, knowing of the regard Therin held for his foster-uncle and the other hobbits who had opened their land to two young dwarrow in fear for their lives. Sure enough, the youngest heir's face flushed ruby, blue eyes flashing cold anger as they narrowed at his sibling.

"That's not the same, and you know it, Kíli! The hobbits know nothing of politics and the games played among those- the other races."

"Those of the higher races, is that not what you meant to say, brother? You, who lived with hobbits for almost thirty years, and still you underestimate them! If they knew nothing of what was outside their lands, the Thain, Mayor and Master would not have been made councilors to the King!"

Kíli did not bother to hide the disdain, knowing too many among the dwarrow who shared such an attitude. Even he had been somewhat guilty of it when he had first ridden through that little land and realized that the hobbits felt no need to train with weapons or keep more than a haphazard border patrol. He had been scornful, making disparaging remarks to Fíli until the other had grown so exasperated that he had berated his younger sibling outside the round green door of their burglar, causing Kíli to be less than initially polite. It had taken the incident with the trolls and the confrontation with Azog to see that loving peace and isolation did not necessarily make one soft or stupid.

"Those three are different! They-"

"Are as astute as many in the Shire, had you bothered to listen, Therin."

Another voice broke into their discussion as a small figure cloaked in the grey-green of the elves pushed into the tight knot of dwarrow, though he was clearly not of the Firstborn. Fíli, Thorin, and Gimli exchanged glances, while Lis, copied Kíli, he noted, copied him, rolling her his own blue-greenbrown eyes as he moved aside to allow Frodo Baggins to ride his pony up beside the fuming youngest prince.

"Bilbo would be falling over himself to rebuke you if he'd heard such nonsense from your mouth!"

Though smaller and thinner than most dwarrow, there was a presence to the still-young looking hobbit that reminded those of the company strongly of Bilbo, belying his supposed age. Kíli well remembered the horror some had expressed when it was learned that their burglar was only fifty, over twenty years younger than even Ori, who had only just been counted as fully adult in the Blue Mountains. For Frodo, who had gained the Ring at thirty-three and stayed that way, only slowly showing signs of age over the last fourteen years since the Ring's destruction, and more due to the injuries and horrors he had lived through than any natural process, it was the shocking force of personality that was rarely displayed that served notice that all was not as it seemed with this small being. He was most definitely not the child his delicate features made him appear at first glance.

Just now, there was fire in the Ringbearer's blue eyes, hands on his hips, and a familiar hard, chiding look to his face, as one would regard a child caught stealing sweets. Kíli found himself bowing over his mount's neck to conceal a smirk, knowing that it would do nothing to improve relations with his younger brother should the other catch sight of it. As he snuck a look around, however, it became clear that several of the others felt no such need, openly showing their amusement as the hobbit all but tapped his foot, his dwarrow playmate of childhood wilting under his friend's disapproval.

"Frodo, you know I didn't mean-"

"Enough, Therin!"

Thorin's quick rebuke made Kíli flinch momentarily, for it had not been that many years since such a tone was directed at him. Indeed, he had caught such a verbal stinging several times even after returning to life, before illness, the weight of memories, and duty had burned much of the former mischief out of him. The weight of guilt and cares that could never be shared sat especially heavy.

Fíli, at least, had noted the change and did not seem to wholly approve of it, often playing small pranks on his younger sibling, which Kíli had felt honor-bound to retaliate for. Such mischief, however, no longer embodied the fervor and creativity he had once had, feeling more as if he were obliged to go through the motions for Fíli's sake, even when aided and abetted by his wife and young Kifir, who had become his aid. Still, they were not entirely without the ability to distract and amuse, just never for long. Such lighthearted moments, and those he spent with his kin in front of the fire of their rooms on quiet winter evenings, were the closest he had felt to what he had known before the summons to return to Erebor had taken the brothers from their home so long ago.

Some part of him had noted the growing maturity with sadness, knowing that he could not return to the child he had once been, with his only cares being winning the praise of uncle and tutors, or aiding his brother as they traveled to trade and hunt in the areas nearest their home. Thorin had been right, by that fire long before, to rebuke him as knowing nothing of the world, and there were days he wished he could return to that innocence, even as he railed at just that in Therin, and Fíli watched him with ever more worried eyes. He longed to lift that concern from his golden sibling, but he dared not, knowing that there were some secrets best left buried, even from his beloved brother.

"Kíli!"

This time the cutting call was aimed at him, and he flushed before regaining his composure and raising an eyebrow at his king, silently reminding the other that it was not a young foolish dwarfling now seated before him. That one of the ruling duo of Erebor was due equal respect, not the harsh, unthinking censure of Thorin Oakenshield to his often cloudy-headed nephew who had insisted upon coming with on an adventure though he was barely of age. That, in itself, had been a struggle, for both to find an acceptable balance, and one that they occasionally still had trouble with.

"I apologize, my king, I was preoccupied. What may I do for you?"

His uncle pursed his lips at the formal tone, then rolled his own eyes at Kili's innocent, overly helpful smile, a short nod conceding his nephew's point.

"I asked what your opinion on this matter might be. Fíli and Gimli both state that we should accept their aid as a token of the tentative alliance between our peoples, while Dwalin and Therin are both against, citing the trouble it might raise within the army. I would have your thoughts upon the matter before deciding, especially as they seem so deep as to pull you from awareness of your surroundings."

That last was a backhanded rebuke, but for once, Kíli felt no need to justify himself or flush in shame. He would never have allowed his guard to drop were they not among a ring of trusted warriors, where no enemy could hope to approach, even from hiding, and Thorin knew it, having overseen that part of his nephews' training himself. Brown eyes flicked to the elves, some of whom now bore scowls for being made to wait in the hot sun, but when his gaze met that of Legolas, the elven prince gave his counterpart a slow, solemn nod, the red-head beside him tilting up her chin, as if daring him to make a comment about her presence. Finally, he returned his attention to those before him, deliberately not looking to either of his brothers, though he doubted his words would catch Fíli by surprise.

"We should accept what aid may come, Uncle. How many times did it take the diverse skills of both Legolas and Gimli to keep they and their companions' whole? And how would it have changed the course of history had they not been willing to set aside their prejudices so? Yes, there will be tensions upon both sides, but once the dwarrow of Khazad-dûm called elves friend, and I believe it is time to renew that relationship. Are we truly so bound by the more recent past that we would doom ourselves to repeat it?"

"It was that one's father who bound us in the dungeons for weeks! My cell was close enough to hear the taunts his sister spat at you daily, Kíli! And what about the insult that Celeborn pays us? Does that, too, go unanswered?"

Dwalin's fists had clenched, undoubtedly imagining the too slender neck of a certain elven princess between them, and Kíli smiled sadly. The memories of those dark days alone in a cell no longer had the power to distress him, though he would never be comfortable around elves he did not know. Nor would the larger dwarf's disapproval wither his confidence, his expression holding steady in the face of the other's glare until Dwalin just waved a hand at him in disgust. Truthfully, Kíli had found that the elves were like all the other free peoples of Middle Earth, with those who were arrogant, angry, or just plain mean.

"And for that, we are to condemn them all? If you look, Legolas has brought only those from his colony who were with him when they last visited Erebor, and we had no fights erupting in the halls then. We remember the past bitterly because they refused aid, and now we seek to turn it away when they actually offer? Do not give Thranduil and Celeborn further cause to sneer at us, Dwalin."

He had addressed his remarks to the large warrior, but out of the corner of his eye, the prince took note of the thoughtful look upon Bofur's face, and the slight smile upon Thorin's. Maybe, just maybe, he had actually gotten his points across in such a way that his king would find merit in them. Finally, his uncle caught his eye, and there was nothing of the disdainful dismissal he had long seen there, only respect.

"You make a careful assessment, Kíli. We will accept their aid, with the proviso that any who cannot handle our presence will be dismissed at our discretion. Now, for the other problem; I will speak with Legolas, but we will need some dwarrow willing to work with them besides Gimli. I leave that task to the two of you, as you can be trusted not to start a fight at the first misunderstanding."

The king gave a nod to the red head, who rolled his eyes and Kíli pursed his lips, eyes already sliding over the closest ranks, searching for particular faces. He had won the argument, but had a feeling he'd set himself up for an impossible task in return.