"If Mahal put you two in the same path, if it is His purpose, then you'll reach the end of said path together. Keep the faith."
Kíli mulled on his brother's words, and the more he whacked them against what he saw and felt, the less sense it all made. Only being sure he was protected by his kin and fellows allowed Kíli to think beyond survival mode.
He was sure Tauriel had been put in his path, but their paths had been parted by death. There was no end of path to be reached together, because she had reached the end of her path in Middle-earth. Did it mean they being together wasn't Mahal's purpose? And if it wasn't, why, by the whole consistory of the Ainur, did she reach him in dreams and even in waking hours when he needed it most? And if it were true that she reached out for him when he needed her most, why was she silent since…
Since when, actually? Not that the time in chains helped to keep trek of days, yet...
Why couldn't he remember, if Tauriel was his One? And if Tauriel was his One, how could he feel how he felt for Tilda? How could he hold on to Fíli's words of keeping the faith if he had been unfaithful to Tauriel?
Tilda was evading him because he hadn't been strong enough to protect her from all that ordeal, it was obvious. And if she didn't want to be close to him, gone was all hope of having her as his wife.
Tauriel was no more.
Tilda was, and yet she was not.
Being a dwarrow, there was not the option of fading from his grief, as elves could. If he could, that would have happened sometime along the last decade, and it didn't.
Kíli heaved a sigh.
From the corner of his eyes, Kíli could see Tilda exchanging some words with Bard, and the bowman leaving her alone, face hidden behind crossed arms on her knees.
In his mind, it was clear that she must be ashamed of allowing him to pretend to be her champion when all he was was a pathetic excuse of a dwarrow that wasn't able to protect her from the dangers they faced.
Resignation. Stoicism. Words that described what was left to him in this life.
When all you hold dear to your heart is gone and you can't follow, when you face your existence with no hope of joy, then the joy that remains is the joy of serving your people.
His shoulders felt as if each stone that built the Blue Mountains as it was had been piled upon them. But he was a son of Durin, and that was what he had been born to carry.
Fíli was right. If what his heart ached for was meant by Mahal, he would be granted it. If it were not, better to let it go before it crumbled his soul.
"Thorin!" Kíli stood up at the sight of his uncle, king and the closer to a father he ever had.
The Longbeard king stopped in his tracks, fast enough to catch his nephew as a wave of dizziness took the youngster.
"Easy, lad. You're still weak."
"I'm fine. Just stood up too fast."
"Of course."
Thorin's eyes let it clear he didn't buy Kíli's excuse, but that he wouldn't confront it. Sometimes one needs to grant his own dignity, and it wouldn't be him to take it from his nephew.
"Uncle, I… I'm ready to take you offer."
"What?" A frown marked his feature. What in the Maker's name was the lad talking about?
"The Wolf Crown. I'll take it."
Thorin could not figure out what did that mean right then.
"Pardon?"
"I'm a son of Durin. I'll take Wolf Crown from the hands of my High King, and with it, full responsibility for Thorin's Halls in the Blue Mountains. I'll pledge fealty to the High King of the Seven Clans."
Each word sounded harder to be spoken, but Kíli went on despite whatever he felt. Thorin was sure something was amiss, this lad was not the same that left his study shouting angry words. But then, that lad had not been bled as an oblation to bring back shadows of Mordor and whatever other ordeals he had been put through in the last weeks.
"Kíli…"
The younger dwarrow closed his eyes and swallowed dry.
"And I'll marry to grant Durin's line in the Blue Mountains an heir." It was all Thorin knew Kíli wanted not. What in the name of… "I have just one request."
"Oh. So. But, Kíli, are you sure…?
"My only request is that the bride is willing to marry me. Whomever she is that you, the Council of Lords and Mahal decide is to share my life, I'll treat her with due respect and courtesy. She may not love me, nor I be able to love her, but I'm ready to fulfill my duty as an heir of Durin's line and do what is better for our people. But I refuse to force marriage on someone who is unwilling. One part of the pair feeling miserable should be enough."
"Kíli. My lad." Thorin had a hard time holding back tears for the death of Kíli's dreams, knowing it had been him to bring upon his nephew that weight. "It mustn't be…"
Kíli cut his words short, bowing his head and looking somewhere unfocusable but in his own mind.
"We both know it must. And I'm ready. I'm not happy, but I haven't been happy for the last ten years. It won't change much for me. I only want to grant it will not be a complete unhappiness to her too, whomever she is."
"Kíli…"
"I don't want to talk more about it, uncle, my king. What you and the Council decided, I'll do as is my duty."
The younger dwarf turned away from Thorin and wobbled to the outskirts of the clearing, nothing one would presume different from someone going to tend some bodily functions.
Most people forget that tears are a bodily function too.
Thranduil watched the uncle-nephew interaction from afar, feigning he had no hearing enough nor concern on the issue. Which was a double lie, but as long as he kept all he heard to himself, it was only dully noted data, not gossip.
But then there was his son, keen on having something to do with the issue. Oblivious to how mortals looked on how elves dealt with that kind of…
"I must acknowledge my function as chaperone might be… overestimated."
The king only lifted one eyebrow, waiting for enlightenment. His dutiful son provided it without questioning.
"While we were trying to escape the orcs, and even when we were held captive, they… interacted. They talked, they stated how they felt, they… Father, why are they so silent now?"
"Oh… That. Who can tell what passes through the thick skull of a dwarf? Or the fleeting mind of Man? Let mortals act as mortals, forgetting there might not be tomorrow."
Legolas pondered for a minute.
"Why would one do such a stupidity?"
Thranduil sighed.
"Despite what Eru promised would come afterward, they fear death. Fear causes suffering. This suffering comes from the knowledge that they will, eventually, die. If they don't remember…"
"...They don't suffer."
It saddened him to think those two that he now accounted as friends could seek for the comfort of forgetfulness instead of facing the possible futures they had in each other. Legolas almost stood up to follow Kíli and talk to him, or to present advice to young Tilda. But then he thought better. Doing so could bring them memory and, with memory, suffering. If they chose to stay apart, he had no right to meddle.
Thranduil seemed to follow Legolas' trail of thought, and intended to use it in his own interest.
"So, is it reasonable for us to head home from here?"
A shadow darker than that of the trees weighed on Legolas' brows. Even if his relationship with his father was in far better terms than when he left the palace, it didn't make him more pliable to manipulation.
"You may go as you wish, my king. I'll fulfill what I committed myself into."
The amused smile that greeted him back was an answer in itself.
"So be it, my son. So be it."