A Homely House

The journey to the last Homely House is far more enjoyable than Kíli predicted it would be. The Elven twins keep up a steady stream of chatter for the entire ride, something which seems to ease the strange tension that arose in his uncle at the mention of Rivendell. In fact, the closer they get to the strange elven settlement, the lighter Thorin seems to be.

Kíli knows his uncle is struggling without Billa - the grump he descended into just hours after passing the borders of The Shire was unwelcome but not unexpected. Kíli also knows he'd never admit to missing his Hobbit, which makes the next several months of travel stretch out even further before him. Thorin is prone to long silences and isolation, but Kíli thinks that if he has to spend the entire journey to Erebor with only Dwalin to talk to he might go crazy.

He has tried to talk to his brother, but Fíli has been distracted from the moment they left Hobbiton and keeps peering over his shoulder as if he thinks someone is dogging their every step. They aren't, both him and Dwalin have checked. Multiple times.

It worries him, the absenteeism of Fíli and the darkness looming over Thorin. So it is with hope that he steps into Rivendell, praying that their brief stop will allow his brother and uncle to work through whatever it is that is plaguing them - or at least find some peace with it.

The Elven settlement is just as grand as he pictured it would be. An unexpected peace washes over him as he witness the stunning view; the thriving plant life, crystal waterfalls, the arching white-pillared buildings that weave together in an endless braid of seamless architecture, the fresh taste of the air he pulls into his lungs, the honeyed scent of the blooming flowers. It is almost…familiar.

He doesn't linger on that thought, Fíli pulling him forward before he's left behind. He stares openly in wonder as they approach the first buildings, one ear on the twins' boastful rambling and another on the hum of natural life around him. His soul will always long for the stone halls that made up his home in the Blue Mountains, but recently he's found that there's a small part of him that equally calls out to lush green woodlands and sprawling plants.

Almost as if there's something else out there calling to him.

And as they step into the courtyard, half-stumbling behind the elves, the rush of familiarity is so strong he almost stumbles to his knees. He knows this place, he does. How, he's not sure.

-a flash of auburn, the scent of green trees mingled with a damp musk that settles heavily on him, slow steps echoing against stone in a dim light, it's dark here and quiet, and then starlight, "I always thought it a cold light, remote and far away-

"Kíli?"

He blinks, Thorin is staring at him from under a furrowed brow. His brother and Dawlin linger a few steps ahead, each with concern on their faces.

He slaps a cheeky smile across his face, "Sorry, I got bored of listening to you elves talk."

Fíli snorts as his uncle growls, "Kíli."

"What?" He shrugs, "They've been going on and on about the history and the architecture and not one word about these plants, Billa would be so disappointed." He bends at the knees, pointing at a nearby bush of tiny green leaves and white flowers, "You see this. This here's Kingsfoil, and I've never seen it grow like this anywhere else. You know how rare that is?"

The twin he thinks is Elladan cocks an eyebrow, "You know of Kingsfoil?"

"I'm not just the good looking brother you know."

The twins laugh even as Fíli scowls at him. He shoots his brother a cheeky smile, all the while wondering when he began to feel like the mature out of the two of them. Was it when the dreams started? Or when Billa first acknowledged him for his skill as an archer and not just the spare prince?

"I see the shield-maiden has been teaching you of her ways," Elrohir says as his laughter slows.

"Perhaps a bit."

"You shall have to speak with some of our foragers then, young prince," Elladan says. "Perhaps they could teach you more than a bit."

"It may be useful knowledge for the journey that lies ahead of you," Elrohir intones with a far off look on his face. It passes a moment later, but the sombre tone is enough to remind the group why they are even here in Rivendell and suddenly the twins are all serious ushering them into Rivendell and towards the ale they were promised.

An elf, who he assumes must be Lord Elrond, is standing at the head of a long table when they enter. He sweeps into a low bow at the sight of them with a warm smile.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

His uncle's lips twitch as he bows back, "I do not believe we have met."

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Lord Elrond says. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed," a smile crosses Thorin's face then. "Perhaps you will have a good tale or two to share with me then."

The elf lord must find that funny because the small polite smile on his face grows, "Indeed."

He turns to the rest of them and sweeps his arm towards the table, "Please sit. We were forewarned of your arrival so hopefully you find the food to your liking. It must have been a long journey from The Shire."

Kíli was expecting leafy greens and fresh vegetables and polite, stiff upper lip company; instead there is a small selection of freshly cooked meat, a barrel of ale propped up in the corner of the room, and warm welcoming smiles from the elves. He's not sure why but as the night progresses, seeing his uncle sharing a smile and laugh with Elrond as they discuss Thror and what memories they both have left of Erebor as well as the Hobbit who brought them together, something within him eases. Almost as if it's important for him to see Thorin getting on well with elves.

The weariness on his uncle's face eases too, and a quick shared look with Dwalin shows he has seen it too and is also grateful.

Now, if only he could figure out what is happening with his brother.

Fíli pushes his food around his plate, half an ear on whatever outlandish tale Elladan (Elrohir?) is spinning while Elrohir (Elladan?) sighs and corrects his outlandish claims. Dwalin quickly gets drawn into the game, questioning every second remark, leaving the two brothers to sit quietly at the end of the table.

"Fíli?"

He looks up, "Yes?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure-?"

His brother stands abruptly, forcing the conversations around them to stop abruptly. Fíli keeps his gaze glued on their uncle and their host, "Thank you for the meal, Lord Elrond, but I find myself weary after our long travels."

"Of course," Lord Elrond waves over a nearby elf, "Lindir shall show you to your rooms."

His brother bows neatly at the waist, "Thank you for your hospitality."

Then he departs, leaving Kíli wondering what on Middle Earth it was that he said wrong.