Kili didn't like to think about the letter.
Even now, in the midst of post battle high and aching limbs (even days after the said battle) he couldn't bare to think about the letter that Millie, his betrothed, had left him. He had told her that Ori had given it to him, of course. It was with shaking and bruised hands that Ori, with wet cheeks and a tight jaw, had given the letter to Kili as he had pressed himself against the wall of the tent that Millie and Fili had been dying inside.
He still remember the blood on his hands and the rough, thick material that was wrapped about his palm. he hadn't cared about the pain, he had only cared about the letter and the words that Ori spoke.
'She told me to give it you,' Ori had told Kili, pulling out a piece of parchment from the bag around his waist. 'I kept it on me, just in case...' Glassy eyes had looked to Kili, and Kili had grimaced deeply, taking the letter. 'I know she's not dead, but I think you should read it'. And Ori had left, probably to find his brothers and to seek comfort in his own blood, his kin. Kili couldn't do that. His brother was bleeding from a broken eye and his one day Princess was so close to death that Ori had given Kili the letter.
And his Uncle...his Uncle was dead.
He hadn't known how important the letter was at that moment, as bodies had been dragged past him, wails had broken through the trudging of footsteps and Millie had whined from the behind the walls of that tent, made to hide the horrors of the dead and the just living. Kili hadn't known what the letter would tell him, or why Millie had even written such a thing. He had forgiven her, but not really.
She was leaving him. She had written him a letter because she knew there might be a chance that she would never come back, and in that moment Kili had considered that he might never see her push back her dark hair again.
I suppose I shall tell you that I am yours in every way, and I died being yours and I died loving you more than anything.
But how could she die loving him, when she was screaming and crying at the poison from the arrow? How could she remember him when Healers were pressing flannels to her bleeding stomach and trying to muffle her sobs? His Millie had been buried beneath that weak, dying mess of hurt and pain. That Millie couldn't possibly remember to love him.
I wanted to have children with you, Kili. I wanted to see Erebor in all its glory, I wanted to taste new foods and hold your hand through it all. You are the love of my life, and I am sorry that I have left you.
Kili wanted to have children with Millie.
As he has pressed a hand against his mouth and bitten hard to drop form crying, he had plopped onto his behind on the muddy ground and tried to imagine Millie, his Millie, with a round stomach and a palm pressed against it.
He'd never really seen another pregnant Dwarven Lady. Maybe once, when he and Fili were very young. He'd liked to think of Millie having a girl first - she'd like to have a girl first. An excited, brave little Dwarfling who would rule her little brothers life.
Any child of Millie Fournier could never be anything but brave.
I hope I died for something worthwhile
It should have ended with the dragon. With the death of Smaug and the cleansing of Erebor. His Uncle should not have died, his brother should not be hurt and his Millie should not be dying. There was nothing worthwhile about a battle for gold and glory, and so many had died for something so stupid. But Fili would be King now, and Fili would end the dispute.
Your Millie.
His Millie. How could she be anything but?
He had read the letter days ago, on the other side of the battle where his hand had bled onto the paper and his eyes had watered with frustration and exhaustion. Now, days later, he knew that his betrothed and his brother were alive. They had been moved into separate rooms once Millie began to show signs of life, but Kili could see the grief on their faces. Every Dwarf in the Kingdom had such a look.
Durin, every Dwarf in Middle Earth was mourning the deaths of so many.
Fili was bitter. Bitter about the loss of his sight and the death of their Thorin, as well as the fact that this was his Erebor now, when it should have been Thorin's. He was the Heir, the next in line - but he didn't want it, not yet. It was too soon. With a bandage seeping red around his head, Fili had said, 'I have to rule Erebor from this stone room, Kee. I can't go out there, not yet. I need your help'.
And Kili had helped him. He'd sent away the Dwarves that wanted to return to the Iron Hills, he had made space in the Mountain for the injured and the dying. Ravens were sent to the Blue Mountains to tell of their victory on both days, with the dragon and with the battle. Songs of Thorin's death were hummed, and of the new one-eyed King.
There was talk of Fili's coronation, but the lighter haired of the two brothers insisted in harsh tones that he would not be King until Erebor was at its glory once again. They would rule together to make it what it once had been. Kili had nodded and pressed his forehead to his brothers, understanding that Fili could not do this alone.
Fili didn't sleep much, so when Kili sat in his room with him they would talk and Fili would stare, with his one eye, at Kili's face. 'You're the handsome one now,' he joked. Kili hadn't laughed, the comment just made him sadder.
He sometimes wished that Millie could be like Fili, and that she would stay awake and talk with Kili, no matter how bitter the words. That way, Kili would not have to see her twitch and grimace and mutter about her mother whilst she slept. She'd jolt awake sometimes, hands flying out to stop the phantom arrow that shot into non-existence. Kili would pretend to be asleep in the chair next to her bed, knowing that she wouldn't want him to see these things.
She still couldn't walk, couldn't sit up properly, couldn't even eat without someone (Kili, always Kili) holding the small of her back and making sure that she did not spill the bowl of broth. She didn't want anyone to see her either - not like this. Not anyone who didn't have to see her.
Kili supposed that she would fit into his family quite well, for she was far too full of pride.
Oin would see to her. He was the best of the small handful of Healers they had at hand, and considering Millie was close to royalty, she got the best of the treatment. That, and the fact that she was severely injured and unable to walk by herself. Still, though, she would grumble and insist that she was fine. She was Millie, after all.
Kili noticed that the ring was back on her finger, but didn't ask where she had hidden it whilst in battle. She had told him that it was the women who wore the ring, on their left finger on their left hand. The 'ring' finger. Kili didn't understand the customs of her home, but he was willing to go along with them. It was nice to see what her culture consisted of.
She didn't mention Thorin much, but on the odd occasion that she did, she would watch him with guarded, careful eyes and wait for Kili to, as she would say, lose it. But she didn't know that he already had, in that moment outside of the tent whilst Millie and Fili were dying, mere feet away from him. When he read the letter, he had felt true grief.
Kili knew that Millie cried though - he would come into her room after a day of sorting through Fili's hesitant, unsure orders as the uncrowned King Under the Mountain and see the drying tears beneath her closed eyes, and he would tighten his jaw and wonder whether any of them would ever be the same after this.
The only time that she did cry in front of him was when he had to tell her that she couldn't attend Thorin's burial. His Uncle - their leader, their King, their friend - was to be laid to rest with his eyes closed and his armour clean beneath the Mountain, in the depths of the darkness where the past Kings lay. His mother would arrive in three months, perhaps more, and they could not wait any longer to lay his Uncle's body (finally) to rest.
When Millie had cried, Kili had clung to her hand and shot a look at Oin. The Dwarf had been there to assure Millie that she was not well enough to venture further down the Mountain, and with a sincere bow, he had left.
'I know,' Millie said, nodding and sniffling and glaring at the bandage that poked out from beneath her loose shirt. 'I know I can't say goodbye to him. Can you do it for me, Kili?'
Kili couldn't speak, so he had just nodded. After that he had made an excuse as to why he had to leave and he had then wandered the halls and considered the fact that Millie was right - he was not just burying his Uncle, he was saying goodbye to him.
And that was what Kili was doing now, thinking about what he would think or say to his Uncle as he disappeared beneath stone and dirt and finally was put to peace with his ancestors. He would say thank you, Kili supposed. Thank you for being his and Fili's father when their own had died so long ago, thank you for comforting their mother and making them the Dwarves they were today. Thank you for raising them right and giving them the chance to prove themselves.
It was then that he had stumbled (but not literally) upon Gandalf. The Wizard seemed to know what Kili was thinking, because he said, 'Thorin would be proud to see you at this moment, Prince Kili'. There was jest in the title given to him, and as Kili looked upon the grey wizard, he smiled. 'Is Millie fairing well? I have been told by Oin that she does not wish to have visitors, but myself and Mister Baggins will be leaving quite soon, I believe. I had wanted to say goodbye to her, and Bilbo too'.
Kili knew that he shouldn't be surprised. Gandalf and Bilbo (Bilbo especially) were not of Erebor, they were not of the Dwarven race. Gandalf was the Wandering Wizard, and although Kili could see that Bilbo was forever changed (the Hobbit would thirst for more adventure, he knew) he still yearned for home and that odd little Hobbit Hole.
And his books and his fire and his all of his odd Hobbit food.
'I'll tell her that,' Kili promised, and his voice always sounded so much more empty in the last week. 'We didn't think you'd leave so soon, Mister Gandalf'. He was the Wandering Wizard, how could he stay in one place for so long?
Gandalf bowed his head. 'We will stay for the Thorin's burial, of course. A friend he was, and a friend he shall always be. How is your brother? I have spoken to him but once. He is changed by his injury, I can see that'. Kili would always appreciate how the Wizard would say what he was thinking - it was one of the things that he knew his Uncle despised about Gandalf.
Kili just nodded and replied with, 'He is struggling under the weight of...of it all'.
'He will be a good King, a better King. I know that he tries to hide behind his walls for he fears his new weakness, but Fili is strong in heart and soul'. Gandalf peered down at Kili, his lined face flickering in the candlelight. 'Dayamu Khuzan ai-menu'.
Kili understood this as a farewell and a comment of kindness, so he held his hand to his heart and given the Wizard a bow. He knew that without Gandalf they would have died many a time, and for that he knew the Wizard was honourable and brave hearted, and that was something a Dwarf could appreciate. So he bowed, not caring that he was royalty and royalty hardly bowed.
Honour and bravery. Bravery and honour.
It was all they had left.
I am so sorry it took me so long to update. I was on holiday then I was on holiday again then I was doing stuff with my friends and then my family and then I had Reading Festival. But now, here I am. I do have another chapter half written, but I just couldn't get into because there was stuff I couldn't fit in, so here's a small chapter from Kili's POV to explain some things! I know it's short, but I had to do it. Plus, you all wanted a letter reaction and some more Kili thoughts.
I hope you enjoy, thank you for being such dedicated readers. And no, I will not abandon this story. I love it far too much. Also, I changed my Tumblr to chekowv . tumblr . com. Take out the dots and all that. Cheers!
Dayamu Khuzan ai-menu - Blessings of the ancestors upon you.