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.

39. Scales of Justice Tipped

Vengeance.

Funny how that word no longer left a sour taste in his mouth, despite the pain it had visited upon the Line of Durin. He had spent much of his life hating the idea, railing against any who urged it upon him. Though any dwarrow who heard him say that, even some of his own kin, would think him very odd. Dwarrow were raised to revere the notion, taking it to their breast and nursing it as tenderly as a mother would a newborn babe. They would seek it to the last drop of blood, across unimaginable distances, and long past the point where the original insult was lost to history. It was the way of their race.

And yet, Kíli had always questioned what use it was. Did the death of another bring back the one you had lost? Or the whipping of a thief at the post make a stolen loaf of bread worth eating? Had not vengeance prevented them from working together when the armies of the dark threatened Erebor? Better justice then vengeance!

But what was justice, truly? And would it not just as surely rip his family apart, were he to stay by the ancient laws? He almost sobbed in frustration. Why his mind would not stop, allow him to rest in peace for a time, he did not know. That was all he wanted! Nearby, a low voice began to sing a lament for the destruction caused by Smaug that he had first heard in Laketown. Odd, it was not like his uncle to sing the songs of Men, though perhaps it suited his mood just now. It certainly fit Kili's mind set as he lay, drifting with the words and slow melody of the song.

Fire had rained down, screams echoing through the night as Fíli yelled at him, pulling at his arm. He had been too exhausted to stay upright without help, even with the boost of adrenaline given by the sight of the fell creature in the sky above. Fíli had done what he had to, pulling and cajoling, looking after his brother as he always did, even when he could have more easily fled by himself. That was what brothers were supposed to do. Guard an exposed back, comfort one another, and reach out a hand when others would turn away. That was family.

Funny, when they rejoined the company at the mountain, it had been Balin's eyes that shown with tears at the word that he had almost died of poison. And it had been Dwalin's that lit up with fierce pride at how they navigated through the burning town, aiding and defending where they could. Thorin had barely paused in his search through the heaps of treasure, only listening as he wolfed down a bit of food.

Kili's head thrashed on the pillow, trying to thrust away the sight of Thorin's dead, greedy eyes, coldly turning away from his own kin when they pleaded exhaustion at his urges to aid him in finding the Arkenstone. He had never remembered that part of the quest before. Instead, it had been Balin who fussed over them, wrapping an extra blanket about Kíli so that he would not take a chill and urging the other three returnees to rest and eat as well.

Balin, who had been unwilling to trust Elrond with the map of Thrain, yet was angry when Thorin's insults cut off any chance of a deal with Thranduil. What would his old teacher say about Therin? Just now, Kíli desperately missed that white-bearded dwarf, with his steady temper and kindly twinkle in the eye as a few soft words shamed the worst miscreant! He seemed to always be there when Kíli needed him the most; willingly answering the questions that his mother and uncle could not or would not, sheltering a troubled dwarfling struggling with the conflict of maturity versus childhood, even aiding with sword lessons when Dwalin grew impatient with his clumsiness. With that on his mind, Kíli finally was pulled into sleep, though his dreams remained troubled.

Thorin's Halls, Ered Luin, Kíli age 22

Kíli wrinkled his nose up as he slouched in his seat at the scholar's table, wishing he had a beard to hide a scowl. If his teacher saw such a thing, he was sure to report it to his uncle, and then Kíli would really be in trouble. Thorin had warned him that if he showed Balin disrespect one more time, the punishment would be severe.

It was not that he disliked his older cousin and teacher; it was the lessons that Kíli detested, though they were not quite so intolerable when shared with some of the other dwarflings, especially Fíli. Now, though, when Balin insisted upon it being only the two of them… Well, it was shaping up to be an exceedingly long, boring morning.

If Kíli were lucky, he would at least be able to force himself to stay awake, and not be scolded for that, too! All it would take was one bad word from Balin to his mother or uncle, and he would not be allowed a treat after supper tonight, and they had the little maple sugar shapes his mother had spent yesterday molding! Kíli dearly loved the stuff, allowing it to melt on his tongue in a burst of sweetness, and his mother knew it, using it to force Kili's sullen obedience to these special lessons. Having been refugees, no dwarf of Erebor would ever think to deny a dwarfling his meal, but such treats were another matter entirely.

The dwarfling sighed heavily, trying to guess what his other, much more exciting, special lesson might be about this afternoon. Thorin had offered hospitality to a healing Ranger that he knew in exchange for lessons for his younger nephew. So far, Steel had taught him many things about tracking and survival in the wilderness, staying close to the halls because his leg had not yet healed enough for longer trips. Today, though, he had promised his eager young student his first lesson in archery!

"Kíli!"

Balin spat out the name with the force of a drover's lash, making the dwarfling squeak in fright as he was broken from the enticement of fresh air and arrows whistling in flight. Kíli turned guilty eyes on the grey bearded dwarf, bracing himself for an expected cuff to the back of the head. Balin's face, however, was warring between sternness and amused tolerance, his good nature winning out with a wink at his student.

"I know, lad. This is a miserable way to spend a beautiful spring morning, but Arathorn will be waiting for you when we finish, never you fear. That one knows of the responsibilities of bloodline and station."

Kíli blinked, confused by the name, though he was fairly certain Balin was talking about the Ranger.

"Who?"

Balin laughed, ruffling his hair.

"Steel. The Ranger your uncle bribed to stay here. If you had paid attention when Thorin introduced him, you would know that his proper name is Arathorn; and if you listened to my lessons on the history of Middle Earth, you would know the significance of that name and why it is so seldom given to outsiders. It is a high honor the Rangers give your house, agreeing to stay here awhile and teach you."

"Oh."

Kíli thought about that for a long moment, trying to remember ever hearing the name mentioned in a lesson. As far as he knew, the Ranger was just someone who had helped the Erebor dwarrow when they traveled through Arnor to settle here, a rare enough courtesy for one of the race of Men.

"If his second name is secret, why would he give it to us? Do men not keep such things close to their hearts as we do?"

His confusion was at least partially feigned, as he knew very well that Men did not have inner names given from Mahal as dwarrow did. If he could divert Balin onto another topic long enough-

"Oh, no, you don't, my lad! There will not be any stories and wasted hours today!" Balin laughed at his disappointment. "No, you are the second prince, with special duties all your own, and it is time you began to prepare for them."

Wait a minute! That was what Balin, Thorin, and his mother were wasting his morning for? He already knew all this! A thrill of hope ran through him as the brunette pursed his lips, trying to bring to mind exactly what he knew so that he could recite them. Once Balin found that he already knew his duties, he would be free! Maybe helping a sickly Ori learn his lessons out of those stuffy old history books of Dori's would have benefits after all!

Standing, Kíli cleared his throat, launching into recitation before a startled Balin could stop him.

"A second son born to the royal family is a sign of Mahal's blessing, second only to a daughter. He is to be the rock and shield upon which his brother stands or is sheltered by, as needed. For he should be trained to the arms from a young age, taking no other occupation, protecting the crown prince in situations where a low-born guard would be improper. Confidant, protector, judge when necessary. This is the path of a second prince, to walk so long as he may live."

"Aye, and did the text you just so glibly quoted speak more upon the role of judge?"

Kíli frowned, trying to bring the words to mind, but he had become hopelessly lost in the archaic language soon after that, and then Ori fell asleep. The last thing that the dwarfling wanted to do was wake the ailing young scholar for something so trivial, especially with Dori skulking about in the other room of the small home. Ori needed his rest to recover that is what Óin had told them.

"No, not that I understood."

Might as well bring it out in the open. Balin was one of the few dwarrow who never found shortcomings in Kili's ignorance, just an opportunity to teach. Of course, that also meant any chance of escaping with a shortened lesson was gone…

"When there is a younger prince, it is traditionally his job to not only oversee the defenses of the kingdom, but also to hold court for grievances not severe enough to warrant the personal attention of the king. Your mother, Dis, and I have shared this role for some years now. Unlike other courts, where it takes the approval of three of the five elders seated in judgment, in the Prince's Court, his word is final. That is why you must not only know the laws well, young Kíli, but also be very careful to think through any judgment you make. Most of the cases brought to you will be interracial disputes and the serious crimes short of treason. Only the King may overrule you, and that is almost never done. Now, what are the crimes in dwarrow society punishable by death? And is there any alternative to that punishment?"

"Murder, rape, intentional serious injury to a child, including holding them captive, and treason, which includes the raising of a hand to the royal family."

Kíli tried to imagine why anyone would not invoke death for anything upon that horrifying list. After all, it was only that last law that had prevented any number of deliberate injuries on the part of dwarflings who hated him. Instead, they used their tongues to good effect, as well as whatever they could get away with on the practice field, which thankfully wasn't much under Dwalin's keen gaze.

It was when the huge armsmaster was away with Thorin that Kíli truly ran into trouble. It hurt deeper than anyone knew, those taunts about his stature, weapon choice, even his smooth face. Sometimes, it was too much, and he had to get away, to hunt, run through the trees, play a joke, anything to release the anger and hurt, even if others chided his actions as reckless. Far better that than to be caught weeping in a dark corner somewhere and confirm all their derisive words! He dreamed, sometimes, of making them hurt as much as he did, but he knew that it would solve nothing.

"The punished who do not see the justice in their punishment only grow angrier, seeking further revenge."

Blinking, Kíli surfaced abruptly from his thoughts, gaping at his teacher.

"What?"

Balin smiled sadly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that you wish revenge, Kíli, but you must always think ahead first. You are not a regular dwarf. Any actions that you take will always reflect upon your family and heritage. That is not to say that you must always show mercy. There are times that it is not only dangerous, but teaches nothing. Finding that fine line is what we will be spending quite a few lessons doing, mostly by reading through old cases. In all of this, you must first ask why someone took the action they did. Perhaps then you will best know how to deal with them."

As his old teacher's face faded and the injured prince settled at last into restful slumber, that one word beat through his mind over and over.

Why?

*****888******

Thorin and Fíli came often over the next several days, talking quietly, as unemotionally as they could, about what had happened. About those who had lost their lives searching for him, and of a cult leader who had once been his uncle. When he slept, the nightmares would not abate, leaving him tired and irritable with those trying to heal him.

The healers would work quickly, whispering to one another of 'Warrior's Heart, trauma, and the different infusions of herbs they wished to try after they were certain his system was cleared of the foul mix he had been given by his captors. Kíli was never certain, afterward, if they realized he had heard every word, despite the stupor that lack of rest and the drugs had forced him into once again. It was not aided by the tension that descended when Vili and Dis were in the room together. His fever rose and fell, but never to the level that had forced the healers to submerge him in the tub for long periods of time, which was about the only relief he had.

He was so very, very tired of war and pain, physical or emotional. Yet it felt as if lightning was charging the air, waiting for an opening to strike once more, tearing apart his life anew. And it was all because of family.

Fíli wanted vengeance, in all its pain and tears, that much was clear. The anger he tried so hard to suppress in him words came across clearly to one who had spent his entire life with the elder, mostly in tone as Kíli still had not been allowed to take the bandages from his eyes. Yet he did not need sight to see the tightening of a muscle, a facial tick, or the white knuckles that Fíli surely sported when the topic of their younger brother was brought up. In his own trauma, Kíli feared that the blonde would actually be arguing for execution should he believe the brunette would listen.

Vili asked for absolute absolution in the same fervent tones, though Kíli did not know this strange, somewhat bitter uncle in the way he did Thorin. After the accident that claimed his brother's life, and almost his own, Vili had spent a time hiding from even his family, living alone in a remote part of the Blue Mountains. When he had returned, he was a stranger to the growing young dwarrow he called nephews, and their separation after the reclaiming of Erebor had only heightened that distance.

In the middle were Dis and Thorin, the royal siblings seeming to take extra care not to influence Kíli in either direction. It was frustrating, listening as the two danced so carefully around their own opinions, even when he bluntly asked for them. Both had said that as both ruling prince and the wronged, it must be him alone who decided upon the outcome of this, for he was the only one who had lived it. He knew the law, and what was permissible, it was up to his own conscience to decide what was right.

It was only when he woke late one night, his soul at peace and body limp with exhaustion, that he finally found his answer and allow rest to fully claim him.