AN: Beta-ed by kailthia, who has done amazing work with her editing. Many thanks!

Chapter 2

The nagging feeling of having forgotten something came crashing into Fíli as he and Kíli laid spread out on the green grass by the riverbank, exhausted from a day of hunting.

"Kíli?" the blond sat up suddenly, his eyes going wide with alarm. "What day is it today?"

"Hmph?" Kíli mumbled back from beside him. He was splayed out on his stomach half-asleep like a great big lazy cat lying in a patch of sunlight.

"Kíli, this is serious. What day is it?" Fíli leaned over and shook Kíli by the shoulder. When the archer didn't respond, he repeated the motion harder still. "Kíli!"

"It's the third, Fíli," Kíli groaned and rolled on to his back. He cracked open his left eye and stared fuzzily up at his brother, disgruntled. "Why? What is it?"

"Because," Fíli swallowed hard as realization dawned, "I think we are supposed to attend that really important dinner in a couple of hours, the one with all the Iron Hills lords."

A brief moment of silence passed.

"Oh," Kíli said finally, his voice very, very faint. "You mean the one where Uncle pulled us aside and explicitly told us to attend in our formal dress so that we don't look like 'uncouth ruffians who spent the day rolling in a hay stack?'"

Fíli and Kíli looked down simultaneously at their ragged, mud-splattered outfits as if noticing the state of their clothes for the first time. The bits of dried grass and leaves stuck on their persons did not help.

They winced.

"I think we should – " Fíli jerked his head towards the direction where Erebor lay.

"Yes," Kíli said emphatically. His eyes were wide and his expression panicked. "We definitely, definitely should."

Without another word, the two lunged for their discarded supplies and sprinted towards their ponies, as if Smaug himself was returned to rain fiery hell over their heads once again.

"Cutting it close, boys," came Bilbo's unamused greeting three hours later when Fíli and Kíli finally deigned to make an appearance by the dining hall's entrance. The Hobbit tsked further as the two Dwarves all but collapsed against the stone wall beside him, their chests heaving from their mad dash across the palace from the royal wing. "Dare I ask what happened to you two?"

"We were out hunting and we – er – sortaforgotaboutdinner," Kíli mumbled the last part of his sentence without meeting Bilbo's eye. His palm was resting over his pounding heart, wrinkling the fine silk shirt under his hand.

For a Dwarf who cared very little in the way he presented himself, (and Fíli can more than testify about that - he spent his childhood chasing after his brother with a comb), Kíli cleaned up surprisingly well. Gone were the archer's wild, tangled locks and instead, his hair was neatly tied back in a series of intricate braids that proudly showcased his achievements as a warrior, his Durin bloodline, and his status as a young bachelor. Silver beads accented with gold shone brilliantly against the dark canvas of his chestnut hair, each of them etched with the young prince's personal sigil. His royal status was made all the more apparent from the fine silver coronet that rested above his brow and the unmistakable Durin blue of his outfit. His fur-trimmed velvet cloak, his jewel-lined belt, and his rings only added to the air of regality.

Fíli blinked back in surprise. The wild, rowdy youth whom he cherished was nowhere to be seen and in his place stood a prince.

"What?" Kíli asked nervously in the silent, pregnant pause. "Is there something on my face?"

"No, no. It's nothing." Fíli cleared his throat and reached over to smooth out the wrinkle on his brother's shirt. "There," he said, smiling softly. His heart was bursting with so much pride and love for Kíli. "Perfect."

He brushed away the odd fluttering in his heart when Kíli smiled back sweetly.

"You both look wonderful. I'm certain that Thorin will have no complaints," Bilbo said just as he reached over to Fíli and straightened the collar of his red velvet cloak. Fíli patiently bore his attention, and wondered when he became so accustomed to Bilbo's fussing. "Now let's head in, shall we? I'm starving."

The moment Fíli and Kíli stepped through the entrance followed by Bilbo a few paces behind, an eerie hush immediately descended over the dining hall. One by one, the Dwarves, Men and Elves, each dressed in the finest, bowed to their presence. Fíli fought down the reflexive urge to turn around and bow back in greeting, as he would have done when he and Kíli were still living in the Blue Mountains. Customs were much more lax there, the lines between royalty and common-born more easily blurred in the common struggle against starvation. Life free from stifling court protocols had been simpler, and Fíli missed it dearly.

Fíli supposed that he would eventually find comfort in the routines of the Ereborean royal customs, or at the very least, he would become so numbed that he would cease to find them so jarringly different. For now, he fell back to what he learned in his years of etiquette lessons.

Chin up, eyes to the front, shoulders back and think of nothing but peaceful thoughts, Fíli silently repeated the mantra in his head, drawing comfort from the familiar words. With his gaze locked forward, he walked past the dining hall guests to reach to the high table at the end of the room, his steps slow but confident. No expenses were spared in decorating the long refectory table. Tall candelabras, heavily- jeweled and golden, sat like two glittering pillars at opposite ends. Multiple sets of polished, golden cutleries, plates, and crystal goblets were neatly laid out for each of the guest that will be seated. They sparkled in the warm glow of the flickering candles lighting the halls. Even the table cloth had a metallic sheen from the delicate gold thread woven into the fabric.

Fíli barely noticed all of this in his effort to retain his poise. He sat down in his designated seat to the right of Thorin's empty chair just as Kíli took his seat one chair away to the left of the King's. This was the first time since Erebor's restoration that Thorin held a formal feast as grand as this one and the heirs were given very lengthy, very thorough instructions by a harried Balin on where to sit, when to stand, how to breathe...

A low murmuring began to fill the room as Fíli shook himself out of his thoughts and ignored the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on him. Instead, he focused his attention on Bilbo, who hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking his seat to Thorin's left.

Fíli coughed discreetly in his hand to disguise his laughter. It had taken a long time to convince the Hobbit that he could sit at the high table, let alone so close to the king. The matter was only resolved when Thorin himself pulled Bilbo aside and told him, with a teasing smirk on his face, that by royal decree, Bilbo Baggins shall sit at the king's left or so help him Mahal, Thorin will ban all salad from the dinner tables. Bilbo's answering look of horror was especially satisfying to watch.

"All rise for the King!"

The murmuring rose in a crescendo. Fíli rose from his seat to peer curiously at the entrance as his uncle swept into the hall. A flock of dark-haired, jovial looking Dwarves trailed behind the King in a great procession. Each of them were swathed in richly coloured velvets – deep shades of red, green, blue and, Fíli snorted in amusement, one brave Dwarf sported a particularly garish shade of yellow that reminded Fíli of the daffodils from Bilbo's hobbit-hole. There was no mistaking that these Dwarves were from the Iron Hills, not when their kingdom's emblem was so proudly displayed on their belts, their pins, and their beads.

"Majesty," Fíli greeted with a slight bow to Thorin when he made his way to his seat at the high table.

"Nephew," Thorin replied, the corners of his lips curled into the soft smile reserved for his family. He grasped Fíli's shoulders in both hands and lowered his head to touch his forehead against the blond's, Fíli's gold and silver coronet clinked lightly against Thorin's heavy crown.

"I haven't seen you or your brother anywhere in the palace today. What kept you both so busy?" Thorin asked so quietly that none other could overhear. Despite having the eyes of the entire court on them, Fíli had never felt more comfortable now that he was in his uncle's presence.

"We went out hunting and we caught a few rabbits," Fíli replied. And because he enjoyed riling his uncle up as much as Kíli did, he added, "Uncle, has Bilbo tried your rabbit stew? Maybe you can ask him to join you for lunch and cook some for him." Fíli ignored his uncle's growing unimpressed look and continued with a straight face, "It will be just the two of you. Alone. In your personal quarters. Enjoying some quality time with each other."

He cocked his brow in the same knowing look that he has seen his mother give Thorin whenever she was right about something. Thorin's answering scowl felt like sweet, sweet victory.

"Impudent brat," the king growled out, "your suggestions are neither appreciated nor warranted." With a final harrumph, Thorin pointedly turned his back to his nephew to greet Bilbo and Kíli. Bilbo flushed a particularly fetching shade of pink after Thorin had whispered something in his ear.

One of these days, his uncle would finally stop dancing around the Hobbit and actually start courting him, at which point Fíli would make it his personal mission to tease the both of them relentlessly. It will be utterly glorious.

Snickering, Fíli turned to greet the Iron Hills guest beside him only to feel his laughter dying in his throat, because – "You!"

"Good day, Crown Prince Fíli! Fancy meeting you here!" the thrice-damned, strange Dwarf greeted him with an equally annoying little wave, and why, sweet merciful Creator, was he even doing at the high table of all places and is that a coronet on his head?

"Fancy meeting me here? Wh-what are you doing here?!"

"Ah," the strange Dwarf stroked his beard and smirked, "and here comes that shining personality that I missed so much. Although I am infinitely pleased to see that you are, for once, not in a state of melancholy. By Durin's beard, you were even smiling. Well done!"

Fíli felt his cheeks flush at the mocking tone. "I smile when there is a reason to smile," he answered crossly. "It just so happens that as of late, I have been cursed by unwanted company." He pursed his lips and stared pointedly at the Dwarf.

To his surprise, the Dwarf only grinned wider. "Ah. There's that famous Durin fire. I was wondering when it would finally make its presence known. You might not be as boring as I have pegged you out to be!"

"And your ability to speak your mind continues to shock and amaze me," Fíli snapped before he could reign in his words. The odd Dwarf's words stung more than he would have liked. "I see that you are especially talented in the art of giving back-handed compliments."

"I do aim to please, my Prince," the other Dwarf drawled out with a lazy grin.

A heavy hand over his shoulder interrupted Fíli's retort. "Nephew," Thorin greeted and the blond looked over his shoulder to see his uncle's puzzled look. Fíli must look quite the unusual sight in his bristled state. "I see that I am a bit late in the introductions but allow me to introduce you to your cousin Thorin Stonehelm, son of Daín, son of Naín of the Iron Hills."

Wait...wait.

What?

Fíli stared at Thorin in confusion, whipped his head back towards the strange Dwarf, gaped at him a little, and turned back to his uncle again.

"What?" Fíli croaked out.

"Thorin Stonehelm, your cousin," Thorin repeated, perplexed. "I understand that it may come as a surprise." He inclined his head towards the strange Dwarf. "You will forgive me, young Master, for not introducing my nephew to you earlier. I trust that the past few days in Erebor have been comfortable?"

The Dwarf lowered his eyes and bowed in a perfect example of humility and grace. "You have been a most gracious host, your Majesty," Young Thorin murmured. "Rest assured, neither the Iron Hills Dwarves nor myself have had anything but a comfortable time in your kingdom."

Fíli gaped at him. Where was the cocky grin that was just there a few seconds ago? Where was the sarcasm? What just happened?

"Good," Thorin nodded, obviously pleased. "If you have any questions, my nephews will be more than happy to play host. Now, if you will excuse me." He nodded again in dismissal, and turned his attention back to Bilbo.

A few seconds of awkward silence descended between Fíli and his neighbour. Young Thorin – and Fíli was still reeling that the stranger was his cousin of all things – quickly wiped away his bashful expression with a growing, smug smirk.

"You're so silent, Prince Fíli! Has my introduction caused that much of a shock?"

"You're my cousin," Fíli muttered. He slowly sank into his seat without registering his actions. Just when he thought that this day could not become any stranger, it proved him wrong. "We are related. We are actually related."

"And I am just as equally excited by that prospect as you are," Young Thorin took his own seat and replied in false cheer. Then, his expression brightened and he poked his head over the table. "Good day,cousin Kíli," he exclaimed loudly with a little gleeful wave.

Kíli's eyes widened in recognition and he spluttered in shock.

"Stop antagonizing him," Fíli growled in defense of his little brother. "What I want to know is why you've never introduced yourself when it was clear that neither Kíli nor I knew who you were."

Thorin blinked owlishly at the blond. "You never asked for my name."

Oh for the love of – really? "That is not an excuse and you know it!"

Unfortunately, Fíli's conversation was cut short by the loud, enthusiastic cheer rising from the crowd as the heavy fragrant smell of cooked meat filled the air. Dwarves carrying platters of roasted chicken, venison, beef and pork marched down the hall, each new dish that they brought out growing more and more extravagant. The diners lost themselves to the great feast with gusto, but Fíli found himself chewing woodenly through his lavish dinner. Once in a while, he would throw suspicious side glances at Young Thorin.

By the fifth time he has done this, Thorin Stonehelm sighed and put down his fork. "If I apologize for not making my introduction to you sooner, would you stop staring at me and let me eat in peace?"

"Your offer is much appreciated, Lord Thorin," Fíli muttered tersely. He deliberately kept his eyes on his meal and continued his aggressive attempt to cut his venison into smaller portions. "However, that certainly does not begin to explain why you have been directing your attention to me or why you've taken such pleasure in it."

"Why, Cousin Fíli, I was simply trying to get to know you better," came the glib reply. "You can't blame a Dwarf for approaching another with caution, not when that Dwarf looked so unbelievably wretched. Speaking of which," Thorin peered curiously at Fíli. "I am downright curious as to why you continue to be in such a state. I thought your mood would improve from last night."

Fíli scoffed. "If you think that last night would improve my mood, you are grossly mistaken. Your concern about my state of happiness is noted, but I shall leave my thoughts to myself, thank you." He has taken some of Bilbo's lessons in passive-aggressiveness to heart when dealing in diplomacy. The Hobbit would be proud. "Also, you delight in seeing me suffer, don't try to deny it."

Thorin rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. "Oh, alright, but only a little. It's only because you look so unspeakably adorable when flustered. I could not resist the temptation."

Fíli stabbed his cubed venison with his fork in a particularly vicious motion that had Thorin flinch away in surprise. "Don't," he hissed out, low and dangerous. Fíli knew that he did not possess his uncle's striking dark appearance or Kíli's exotic good looks. If he was completely honest with himself, everything about his appearance was unusual from the gold in his hair to the slightness of his frame. The last thing he wanted was for his homeliness to be thrown back into his face by some mouthy, sarcastic, bastard pain in the ass of a Dwarf, cousin or not.

"I did not mean to offend you, my prince, and my comment was not made out of malicious intent," Thorin said in all seriousness, the playfulness gone from his voice. He must have seen something on Fíli's face to change his tone so suddenly. "I only meant to get to know you better from our previous encounters. Frankly speaking, you provide the much needed breath of fresh air from Lord Thrim's inane chattering or the obsession with dresses of Lady Rindr and Lady Groa."

Fíli whipped his head towards Thorin with a sharp retort at the tip of his tongue to call out on his lie, but he paused at the Dwarf's sombre, contrite expression. The brunet seemed to be genuinely sorry and although he was aggravating, really, really aggravating even, he reminded Fíli a bit of Kíli. The archer had been downright insufferable in his boredom when he was younger and had made a few beardlings cry on more than one occasion. Kíli usually meant no harm.

And Fíli could more than sympathize with wanting to get away from Lord Thrim's long winded ode to his love of locks.

For the umpteenth time that evening, Fíli sighed. "Alright, I understand. It's fine. It's all fine. Can we just forget about this?" the blond lowered his fork to pinch the bridge of his nose, already wishing for this conversation to be over. He always hated verbal altercations and would leave the name calling to Kíli. The archer was surprisingly creative when it came to that. "How about we start afresh? Fíli, son of Víli, Crown Prince of Erebor." He lowered his hand and inclined his head forward in greeting. Might as well forgive and forget. It wasn't in Fíli's nature to hold grudges anyway.

"Thorin Stonehelm, son of Lord Daín of the Iron Hills, at your service," the other Dwarf returned his greeting graciously, and Fíli watched, half-afraid, as the young Dwarf's mischievous smile start to bloom across his face again. "I have a feeling, Prince Fíli, that you and I will become great friends."

"Why do I feel like I will regret this?" Fíli groaned.

It wasn't until well after the feast that Fíli managed to see Kíli again. It was hard not to considering how Kíli had bodily pulled him behind a pillar as he was walking down the hall to his private chamber.

"Ow! Kíli! What are you doing?" Fíli rubbed at his aching arm with a grimace.

"Is it true?" Kíli interjected quickly, "Is that strange Dwarf really our cousin?"

"Yes, it's true, and Uncle has made it quite clear that we are to show him around Erebor for the next couple of weeks." Fíli glanced at his brother, who bit his lip and looked away suspiciously. "But clearly, that is not what you wanted to ask. What is it, Kíli? Come now, out with it." He pressed forward obnoxiously close and said in a sing-song voice, "Kíli, tell me. Tell me."

Kíli leaned away and scowled ferociously at Fíli's wheedling tone. "I just wanted to know what he said during dinner that's gotten you so angry. Stop that! You know I hate it when you use that voice."

Oh. "You saw that?" He continued at Kíli's answering shrug, "It was a misunderstanding. Our cousin has an odd sense of humour that I still haven't fully grasped yet. He is surprisingly less aggravating than I first thought he was." Fíli grinned and nudged his brother's shoulder. "Were you worried about me? You were, weren't you?"

"Well, excuse me for caring," Kíli grouched. He swatted his brother away from him. "I've never seen anyone managed to get you so unsettled before! It was strange!"

"It was stupid," the blond agreed. He took a step back from the archer and started to loosen his cloak, which had done nothing but weigh him down. He was more than sick of it. "I asked him why he felt the need to pester me, and he that said he enjoyed seeing me, and I quote, 'adorably flustered'. His words, not mine."

A strange, strangled sound had Fíli look up from the shoulder clasp that he was trying to work loose. "What? What is it?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something in my throat," Kíli coughed lightly into his fist. "That's a strange thing to say. You don't suppose he meant that?" Kíli automatically reached over and brushed Fíli's hair away from the clasp.

"Doubt it. Cousin Thorin seems to like saying things that will get a rise out of people." Fíli cowed in triumph when the clasp snapped open, and the cloak fell to the ground in a soft thump. Groaning in relief, Fíli rolled his aching shoulders. "Your turn now. Let's take this heavy cloak off of you."

To his surprise, Kíli recoiled back and clutched on the end of his cloak protectively against his chest. "Wait, no! I need to keep this on until after I showed Miss Tauriel around the markets! I need to look nice!"

And just like that, Fíli's good humour fizzled away. "I forgot that you promised to show Miss Tauriel the night market," he said with what he hoped to be a convincing smile on his face. Honestly, why was he even upset? He had just spent a perfectly normal day with his brother, like the ones they shared so often back in the Blue Mountains. He should be happy that the day was ending on a high note and that Kíli was back to being his cheerful self. "I hope you enjoy yourself," the blond added more brightly. "Please refrain from making any jokes about your pants."

"Very funny, Fíli. Miss Tauriel and I will have a great time, just you wait and see." The archer clapped a hand over his brother's shoulder before heading down the hall. "I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast!"

Fíli waved at Kíli's retreating figure, growing more and more relieved. It seemed like whatever it was that was going on between himself and Kíli was just temporary. His brother clearly needed the time and personal space to work through his problems and now that he had done so, everything was starting to go back to normal. Still, it would have been nice to know what was wrong with his brother in the first place for him to be acting so strangely.

It would also be nice to go one day without being reminded of the Elves, but if that was the price that Fíli had to pay to see his brother smiling again, then so be it.

Humming to himself, Fíli bent over to pick up his discarded cloak, dusted off the heavy fabric, and draped it over his forearm. Perhaps he could see if Kíli was interested in visiting some of the other Company members tomorrow after lunch. He hasn't spoken to Ori in a while.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Fíli turned in time to see Young Thorin strolling towards him. Funny, had he always had that strut?

"Crown Prince Fíli!" the Iron Hills Dwarf cried enthusiastically, "I'm so pleased to have found you! I see that you are smiling again. Most excellent!"

"Lord Thorin," Fíli returned, bemused and sounding only half-exasperated this time. "We just saw each other a few scant hours ago. Not much has changed since then." He cocked his head in curiosity. "Is there something that I could help you with?"

"Yes! There is! But we must discuss this somewhere less public than in the hallway. Where can we go?" Without waiting for an answer, Thorin grabbed Fíli's arm and led him down the hallway. "Come now, no time to dally! I just remembered that I had wanted to speak with you since this morning about an important matter, but the thought had completely slipped my mind until now! Silly me! And since we are the greatest of friends now – "

"We just became acquainted!" Fíli laughed, but he allowed himself to be dragged along by the other Dwarf now that his curiosity was piqued. This was probably a terrible idea - goodness knows what sorts of insanity Young Thorin has up his sleeves.

" – it certainly will make this, ah – conversation much easier to deliver!" Thorin carried on obliviously. He ushered Fíli into an empty room, pausing only to check his surroundings for other people before reaching for the heavy set of wooden doors. The moment they closed behind him, he dropped his playful façade.

"Listen, Prince Fíli," he whispered, low and serious. Fíli felt his grin slip off his face and he swallowed heavily in response. "Last night's dinner was just a taste of what's to come. Things will definitely become more hectic when the next batch of Iron Hills nobles arrive."

"I – I don't think I understand," Fíli shook his head. "More Dwarves are coming?"

"Yes. The word about King Thorin and his affection towards Master Baggins has already been spread so the Dwarves know better than to try their chances with the King."

"Try their chances? But what has this got anything to do with last night and – "Fíli's eyes widened. An icy chill began to spread up his spine as realization, and the beginning of what felt like mild horror, slowly dawned on him. He turned his panicked-filled eyes to Thorin. "No."

"Yes." Thorin replied, his voice full of pity. "The word is out, cousin. You have now become the single most eligible bachelor among the Dwarves. Simply put, you are officially being hunted. If I were you, I would come up with a plan, fast, before the vultures descend on Erebor."

AN: And I'm bacckkkk! Man, I miss writing these although I promise that this one will not be as lengthy as the ones I've written for my other fics. HA! First off, many thanks to all of you who've read, reviewed, favourited, bookmarked, kudosed and etc. I know that there is a good number of you who is taking a leap of faith with this fic even when this pairing is not your OTP. Your support is astounding and I cannot wish for better readers. Massive, massive hugs and kisses to you all and to all those who are willing to put up with my slow ass writing. Love you!

[1] Many, many thanks to all those who are incredibly enthusiastic about the previously unnamed strange Dwarf being Thorin Stonehelm. You have asked and you shall receive.

[2] Thorin Stonehelm is younger than Kíli by a few years according to canon. For this fic, I'm making him older than Kíli, younger than Fíli, and twice as cocky and aggravating as the both of them put together. Because of reasons.

(The reason is I like writing dickish characters. :P)

[3] As you have already guessed, this fic is mostly Fíli-centric, which will be a first for me. I am eager to play around with this character and I hope that the shenanigans I put him through will be to your liking. Mark my words, there will be shenanigans!