AN: This story is continually the hardest to edit for two reasons, the stuff I have written (50k) is all slightly off and needs to be reworked. And every time I go to edit I end up writing two more chapters which is making posting difficult.
Thank you so much to the few reviewers, your feedback is so incredibly inspiring!
Chapter 8 - Smiths
It was Kíli's birthday which he hadn't enjoyed celebrating since his brother's disappearance and his father's death.
Mostly, he was gifted wood and things to inlay in his creations. His mother gifted him meticulously stone-carved arrowheads, light and sharp enough to slice through cloth without resistance.
Nori's gift was unexpected.
Kíli had destroyed his and Fíli's childhood fiddles the night after the funeral.
It was an action he regretted instantly and hid the evidence of while his mother was out leading court. She asked about them only once and when he refused to answer, she never asked again.
Kíli was grateful that the fiddle Nori gifted him came with one for Fíli who looked overwhelmed to be given a gift too. He ran his hand over the flower imprints, his expression revealing that the flowers meant more to him than anyone else in the room.
Except for Nori who seemed taken aback that Fíli paid so much attention to the flowers.
"Do you still play?" Kíli asked his brother.
Fíli nodded then placed the Rosewood fiddle to his chin and played a few notes of what Kíli was pretty sure was a pub song.
"You'll have to play for us after supper," Dís said.
Kíli nodded, watching his brother as he gently put the instrument back into its box.
Nori was waving off Gloin's praises of his craftsmanship.
With Gloin, Gloin's wife, little Gimili, and Oin in addition to the Ri brothers to the Durin apartments, they filled up the living room. Little Gimili would likely have to sit on his father's lap to fit them all.
Kíli began to rise only for Fíli to catch his wrist with a gentle hand, "I got you something too."
He shook his head, "You didn't have to–"
Fíli shoved a long cloth wrapped package at him, "This is mine to give."
Sitting back down Kíli set to unwrapping it.
Fíli hadn't brought much with him from Rohan. While the cloth bundle had obviously been swords, Fíli had never taken them out. Originally, it had been a sign of trust and respect, a cloth-wrapped sword could not be easily drawn.
Still, it had been driving them all a bit crazy that they had yet to examine Fíli's weapon of choice.
Kíli gasped at the handle and sheath revealed. The sword pummel was wrapped in deep blue shearling. The steal was designed with diamond Durin knots. But the guard was simple.
Elegant.
The sheath was also blue shearling studded with steal diamonds. The tip of the sheath was of a heavier iron alloy, the pattern smooth, almost as if you could use it for digging.
The sheath had a lock switch that anchored it to the sword, as good a weapon on its own without being drawn. The sort you'd use on a rowdy crowd of humans if you were trapped while they nearly trampled you in the market. It would hurt but wouldn't kill unless you truly bludgeoned someone with it.
But the true beauty of the sword wasn't felt until the blade was unsheathed.
Kíli knew it was a steal, knew that as beautiful as a silver sword could look, unless it was mithril, silver was too soft for a broadsword.
But the metal gleamed in the lamplight. The design was deceptively simple, but its weight and engineering were clear to anyone with a bit of knowledge about the craft that this was a masterwork.
"I know it's not particularly dwarvish, but I was limited by the sketches included in a few library books," Fíli said, fidgeting.
All eyes snapped to him.
No one could say anything.
They had all assumed, especially as he had never spoken about it, that Fíli had been cut off from pursuing a craft. Children of men tended to follow their father's profession and Fíli adoptive father had been a scholar.
"What?" Fíli asked, cheeks flushing.
"You made this?" Kíli asked, equal parts awed and shocked.
Fíli nodded, "Yes, it's my masterwork when I completed the first half of my apprenticeship. My master encouragingly said the second half wouldn't be completed in a single mortal lifetime."
"You shouldn't give me this," Kíli stated.
"It's mine to give. I'll make others in my life. But you are my brother and I want to give you something that has meaning to me. I know you thought I was dead, but I thought you were gone too."
"But you haven't even reached your majority yet!" Frerin exclaimed.
"Neither have I and I completed the first level of my apprenticeship," Kíli pointed out, suddenly smug about his little brother's accomplishment.
"Yes, but I trained you," Frerin said.
Not some human, went unsaid.
Amad slapped the back of Uncle Frerin's thick skull at the first slip in Fíli's expression
"May I see?" Thorin asked.
Sheathing the sword, Kíli passed it over.
Thorin held it with reverence. Because swords were his primary weapon as well, he was able to draw them in the confined space. The sword was beautiful and as strong as it looked, it was also a fairly light weight.
Kíli looked at Amad who had a strange mix of emotions on her face, joy, pride, and love and beneath all that a thread of fear.
He glanced at Fíli who was looking at Amad too with a confused frown.
Kíli caught his hand, "Thank you, brother."
Fíli turned to him with a smile, "We're never going to be parted like that again. I swear it."
Kíli pulled him into a hug, realising to things as he saw Thorin examining the blade with continued awe. One, that Fíli's gift was a symbol of his skill and something to keep Kíli. Two, despite being his heir, Kíli did not travel with Thorin because his skills better matched Frerin's, however, Fíli as a smith would have to be trained by Thorin in their line's craft.
Amad's fear made sense now as Uncle Thorin always walked a more challenging road.
Come spring, there would be more reasons for Kíli and Fíli to follow Thorin East than to the Gulf of Lune with Frerin.
Amad doubtless hated that fact.
oOo
Fíli never reached out to him, the Rangers told him that his family was overjoyed to have him home.
So Bilbo held on to that, his son would be better off without a silly old hobbit weighing him down, better off without away from highborn politics the elves had welcomed them into, and happier with his birther.
Bilbo would never begrudge his son from happiness.
oOo
Fíli was helping his mother sort papers from human traders, commission work that wouldn't be ready before the end of winter, when his brother rose from his seat.
Glancing at the clock on the mantel, he saw it was the same time he left every day. Dwalin was already at the door.
Unable to help himself today, he asked, "Where are you going?"
Kíli looked backa and flashed him a grin, "To train, we figured we wouldn't through you to the wolves–"
"Can I come?" Fíli cut him off, glancing to Amad to make certain she wasn't upset.
Quite the contrary, his mother looked pleased.
"The training arena is public," Kíli said.
Fíli raised a brow, "Afraid your little brother is going to beat you?"
Amad let out a bark of a laugh.
Kíli glared, but there was light in his eyes. "Do you even have a primary weapon?"
"Swords."
His mother clapped him on the shoulder, "We'll all go then. I grab my axe."
Fíli felt giddy.
He didn't know how he would compare to his relatives, but he knew he was good with blades.
He was, after all, a dwarvish smith.
oOo
Dwalin exchanged a look with his brother as the two young princes exchanged good natured barbs as they went through their warm up, Fíli following Kíli's lead.
I told you we should have done this sooner, went unsaid but Balin inclined his head.
Kíli looked positively ecstatic to have his brother back in the training rink with him while Fíli finally looked like the dwarfling he was meant to be at his age.
Dís, Thorin, and Frerin watched them avidly as stretched.
Oddly for a dwarfling so prone to shyness, Fíli didn't seem bothered by all the eyes that watched him. Which was good, considering they were gathering quite a crowd.
If it had been Ori in the sand, then he probably would have been hiding in a corner.
"I bet he's talented," Balin said softly.
"Of course he is, Lady Dís taught him."
Balin shook his head, "The Rangers might be few in number, but they are considered by many to be among Men's best."
Dwalin scoffed, "You think they are our equals?"
"I know Men have made an art of destruction. Besides which, Fíli is a dwarf who has likely always fought opponents bigger than himself," Balin argued.
"We'll see," Dwalin said.
Despite axes being his preference, Dwalin was second in swords only to Thorin.
And Thorin wanted to observe so it was Dwalin who had the honour to fight against the youngest prince first.
Most youths charged ahead.
Fíli was not most dwarflings.
Flashing Balin an amused smirk, Dwalin charged.
He was not expecting the dwarlings speed nor his grace.
Grace was not something they trained for, it was more a result of perfection but it was rarely a goal, rarely a product of the strength almost all dwarves shared.
Dwalin's blade barely caught Fíli's blade as he deflected. The angles at which he held his sword were a tad wrong, Balin being right about his experience against taller opponents. But his technique worked well against someone stronger than him –as Dwalin was.
What impressed him the most, however, was the boy's footwork. Every step was light, purposeful, and planted. It was a difficult mix, and Fíli made it look like dancing.
Dwalin pressed further but found himself at a disadvantage, because Fíli's speed took away his ability to bear down with his full strength.
Backing up for the first time, Fíli seamlessly shifted into the offensive.
The flat of the blade smacking Dwalin's hand caused him to drop his weapon.
Dwalin stared in open mouthed shock, he hadn't had anyone manage to slap his knuckles in decades.
oOo
Thorin could only stare.
He knew that Dwalin wasn't hurt and that the only reason he had dropped his blade was surprise not because he had been officially disarmed.
Fíli, who had returned to them quiet, hesitant, and down right timid, smirked, "I'm not unpracticed or untried."
Dwalin shook his head, picking up his blunted sword, "It's not the same thing as a real fight."
Fíli scoffed, "I've travelled the Misties a time or two. I've killed goblins and orcs before."
oOo
Dís felt ice through his veins and he reached out for his sister's hand. Her grip was crushing.
"He's fine," Thorin whispered.
She nodded her head.
"I'm guessing you weren't playing keep away from them, were you?" Dwalin asked.
"Sort of, my friends were always so tall that I often drew attention to myself as the others lobbed off heads. My dah was always clear on being a child and that I was never to be in front or holding an attack from behind."
Dwalin huffed, "Good. Still, you should be trained on being at the front."
Dís made a soft sound of relief and whispered in Khuzdul, "I need to find his human father and induct him into the family."
He smiled. They owed this mysterious man quite a lot even if he hadn't brought Fíli home sooner.
Dwalin waved Kíli in to take his place. He watched them closely to make sure they didn't hurt each other. But the two were gentle with each other even as they got increasingly more competitive.
"It looks like they're dancing," Thorin remarked.
"I can't believe the Roherrim taught him to fight like that," Balin answered.
"Isn't he friends with those Rangers?" Frerin asked. "Elves fight in a similar way to what Fíli is doing now and the Rangers are as close to elves as any non-elvish group could be."
"I don't like the necessity of his fighting any more than I like it for Kíli, but at least he's skilled and as far as I can tell, unharmed."
Frerin threw an arm around her shoulders, "It will be easier to keep them safe."
She smiled briefly before looking to Thorin. "You meant when you said they would stay with me when you both leave in the spring. No matter how much Kíli pleads with you both."
Kíli had been begging to go with Thorin and not Frerin for years but as a carpenter, Kíli was more of an asset to Frerin.
Frerin who travelled away from orc bands hiding along the roads.
Thorin pressed his forehead to hers, "I swear it. They are your sons before they are my heirs."
She let out a long breath. As much authority as she could wield against her brothers, Thorin was the oldest and he was their king. His word, at the end of the day, was law, and more than that he had earned her fealty.
She might be running the political side of things for the majority of the year but it was Thorin who led by example. Thorin who humbled himself, enduring scorn and humiliation both to better provide for their people and show them that he would never ask of them what he would not do himself.
Keeping her sons with her in Ered Luin might not have been the best thing for their people, but she was grateful for the sanity that Thorin was gifting her with.
oOo
Gandalf was devastated that in the thirty-odd years he had been away, Belladonna Took, Bungo Baggins, Drogo Baggins, and Primula Brandybuck had all been lost.
Little Frodo Baggins had fallen asleep in his arms as Bilbo prepared after supper tea for himself.
"You are much changed, my friend."
Bilbo snorted softly as he refilled Gandolf's glass of wine. "I wasn't an adult the last time we met."
Gandalf hummed in answer, knowing that the changes in Bilbo were far more dramatic than the mere passage of childhood. There was a grief to Bilbo that came from too many burdens and too many sorrows. One could only hope that Frodo would bring some joy into his life.
"Did you ask the elves for help after the Fell Winter?"
"The elves have been around more often, they are assisting the Rangers. But I fear it won't be enough in the times to come, there's rumours in Bree…"
"What rumours?" Gandalf asked.
Bilbo shook his head, "I'm sure you will learn more than I could, but there's trouble encroaching on the Roherrim border."
"How do you mean?"
"Trade is being affected, or so the Rangers say."
Gandalf sighed, "I suppose I'll be gone for quite some time again.
Bilbo sat down beside him. You'll be well missed." He paused, "Or at least, your fireworks will be.
Gandalf chuckled, glad to see that Bilbo had not lost his spark.
"What kept you away this time?" the Shireling asked him.
"Gondor, Mirkwood, and the Iron Hills. This isolationism of this age will be the doom of us all."
"I don't doubt it," Bilbo agreed with a heavy sigh.
"I see you've brought your herb garden inside," Gandalf remarked, gesturing to the pots sitting on the windowsills that had been spared the winter.
"Hmm? Oh yes, I think, despite my responsibilities to Frodo, I'd like a bit of a challenge. Something to research and work toward. Lord Elrond has already sent me some reading material.
Herbs have a certain sort of magic, Gandalf mused."
And though Gandalf had meant to stay longer in the Shire, he found himself setting off the next morning, first to Bree and then Rohan.
He was not pleased by the darkness he encountered growing in the hearts of men far earlier than any had predicted.
oOo
Dís watched her sons, her heart full to bursting at seeing them together again.
Fíli had been so very young when he was taken from them, and yes, he had been calmer, or more grounded, than his older brother. But they had both been boisterous and mischievous dwarflings. It was strange to have both her boys so quiet. But outside the training rink, it seemed they had a hard time talking to each other.
But if they were going to be quiet, so be it.
Dís knelt in one of her cabinets to pull out an old puzzle game.
It was the dwarvish version of chess that was designed specifically to annoy elves in times when the two races had active trade relations.
"If you two are so determined to spend time without speech, you might as well take the opportunity to learn something diplomatic."
Fíli quirked a brow at her, "Because that's what dwarrow are known for?"
She tutted at him. "Neither of you are common blacksmiths, and while Thorin detests the lot of them, it is best to understand the twisty-turner logic that elves use while looking down on the rest of us."
Fíli glared at the board and looked so much like Thorin in that moment she had to swallow a laugh.
Kíli wasn't so successful.
"What?" Fíli snapped.
"You and Uncle are really going to get on well," Kíli answered diplomatically.
Fíli cocked his head to the side, his blonde braids shifting over his ears. "Is Thorin going somewhere?"
Dís cleared her throat. "Towards the end spring he leaves. He stays home in the winter when tensions are high and everyone's cooped in."
"When everyone's hungry," Kíli added softly.
Fíli immediately looked shamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"
Dís shushed him and leaned against the back of his chair so she could give him a half hug and a kiss on the head. This winter has been less dark because of you."
"But I'm just another mouth to feed and you make it sound like he would have left earlier if not for me."
She tsked tugging lightly at one of his braids, "You are a gift. And you will not despair for your own needs when Thorin and I would do just about anything to keep you boys safe and happy. Thorin has not rested since the fall of Erebor. A season's delay is nothing compared to rest he ought to have taken a century ago."
Fíli muttered another apology.
She pulled over a chair to sit beside him and gave him another kiss on the cheek as Kíli set up the game board.
She thought she would have to help her youngest through the gameplay, but once he understood the rules, her youngest son proved just as ruthless and savvy as her eldest.
Even when they were but dwarflings, Dís knew her sons, much like Frenin, were troublemakers who could no more sit still than have the patience to sit through anything.
But whereas Kíli had taken to his duties as Thorin had to his, Fíli still seemed to despise reading and writing. However, he did sit through his lessons on their language without complaint.
But a game? A game was different. He turned out to be competitive and cunning as he thwarted all of Kíli plans as the sound of stone pieces clicked together.
The idea of the game was to get the pieces to settle at the bottom of the board. Whichever colour dominated, in this case, white quartz, Kíli, or pink quartz, Fíli, dominated the settled board won.
The two began to curse at each other and Dís rose to make dinner with a smile on her face as her boys grew progressively louder.
Dwalin and Balin were drawn from their rooms by the sound though both smiled at what they saw the cause.
Previously, only Balin had lived with them, his title and legacy enough to keep anyone who looked at her son wrong the sense to run away.
But she had two sons again and as good as Balin was, he was getting older and he couldn't be in two places at once.
Dwalin, thankfully, didn't seem to mind being Royal Protector again.
Both seemed as pleased as she was by this visible change.
There was absolutely nothing aggressive behind the glares and barbs they threw at one another, in fact, Kíli was taking it as an opportunity to teach his brother about dwarvish swears.
No, even arguing and trying to best one another, neither seemed able to set aside how important the other was to them.
But the animation, the boastiness was something none of them had seen from Kíli since Fíli was taken and not something they'd seen from Fíli since his return.
Dwalin let out a soundless scoff when he saw the source of the commotion and Balin laughed outright.
"I told you it wasn't a boring game."
Dwalin gave his brother a dry look, "Just because they made it competitive doesn't change the nature of that elvish monstrosity."
"It was designed to infuriate elves," Balin said, smiling at the old disagreement.
"It's infuriating alright," Dwalin muttered, not all giving away in the sulky set to his shoulders that he had never won a game against Balin.
An assumption Balin's smug expression confirmed.
Dís did not pretend to hide her own smile.
"Ha!" Kíli crowed.
"Not fair you know where all the sections are."
"Nope," Kíli grinned. "It's never the same and even when it is that doesn't help you because you won't know till the end if that is true or not. You're thinking too much like an elf."
The glare that Fíli sent him was one of Thorin's which just made Kíli laugh again.
"I won't lose a second time," Fíli muttered as he looked at the board unsure of how to reset the box.
The played two more rounds, by which point, Fíli couldn't be described as angry, but committed.
Before they could reset the board for the third time, Dís scooped the game off the table. After dinner go wash up.
Kíli pulled his still put-out brother out of his chair. The two jostled each other as they went to the washroom.
Dís couldn't have wiped the smile of her face if she had wanted to.
Balin placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "They'll come back to you, Dís. They're brothers, and no amount of years or distance could change that."
She blinked back tears as she turned back to setting the table. Dís just wanted her family to be happy, no matter how small that slice of happiness was, she wanted it to remain whole and no more shattered than it already was.
oOo
Fíli was excited to leave the mountain, not least of which was because he had again this morning made Balin and Amad jump out of their skin because he was walking too lightly. It had been sort of funny at first, but now it was just another thing that made him different from his family.
So it was with some relief they departed the mountains, even if just for a day.
It was one thing to be reunited with his family. It was quite another to be a prince of a race he had been separated from.
Kíli bumped his shoulder, "You look too excited for someone carrying nearly twice your weight in horseshoes."
Fíli stuck his tongue out at him, "I like horses."
Thorin, who had been marching ahead in the purposeful way of his, slowed to join them, "I would never be able to tell you spent years among the Roherrim."
"At least you won't have to work with a human blacksmith this time," Fíli said.
"He's right, Uncle," Kíli said. "Not splitting the costs with Scarson this year is a huge victory."
Thorin gifted them with a small smile, "Of which I am grateful."
"Now you can bargain with the peasants with me," Kíli said.
Thorin instantly scowled.
Kíli laughed before explaining to Fíli, "I'm jesting. I bargain, Thorin menaces from the background so nothing escalates."
"Dwarven blacksmiths are rare enough that we should overcharge them," Fíli said, knowing that they would have to undercharge because most men would sooner plough with a stick than openly admit the superiority of another race's craft.
Thorin and Kíli's eyebrows shot up.
"What?" Fíli asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"You sound bitter for someone raised by humans," Kíli said.
Fíli rolled his eyes, even as his heart twisted at the secrets he continued to keep from them. Looking down the road, he was able to see that the village was still a ways ahead.
"I've met truly goodhearted men and women, but in general, I preferred the horses."
That got a wide grin from Thorin and another laugh from his brother, which may have been his favourite sound on the planet.
Kíli often looked too stressed, too serious, and Fíli knew that it was his own absence in his brother's life that was the cause.
"I prefer ponies myself," Kíli said.
Fíli wrinkled his nose at that, "The horses who are a few hands short, sure, but actual ponies can be some of the most onerous creatures on the planet."
"Well, we'll leave the equines to you, Thorin can fix people's boring axes, and I'll sell the trinkets," Kíli said. "Thus are the adventures of Market Day."
"Why didn't we set out early with everyone else?" Fíli asking. He hadn't wanted to question why they had woken so early and helped everyone else out of the mountain but then gone back to their apartments for a hardy breakfast.
"The villagers know who Thorin is," Kíli explained. "Even if they don't show any respect, or worse, they sneer at us for royalty acting as merchants, our stall is always busy. While it's important for the royal family to hold some measure of wealth, especially as we don't take involuntary taxes, it doesn't help us to take business away from our people. By the time we get there, a number of commissions will already be arranged and as the mornings are the busiest, many smaller purchases will already have been made."
"But if it's Market Day, why wouldn't they plan for Thorin to be there later?" Fíli asked.
"I'm not normally in the Blue Mountains this time of year," Thorin said. "Typically, I travel to one of the bigger settlements as soon as the frost stops."
"Oh," Fíli said, wishing his cheeks didn't show his feelings so easily.
Kíli leaned into him, "We're all happy Thorin is home. This is the longest we've been together for years. Amad is happy to take a break from being the regent for a time."
"She deserves the break," Thorin said.
For a time there was only the sound of their footsteps on the rocky ground.
Fíli broke the quiet by asking, "What do you mean by not taking involuntary taxes?"
"Income isn't consistent enough," Kíli explained. "The purpose of taxes is to ensure we are able to put safeguards in place for families who can't provide for themselves or fall under misfortune. It also goes into advance payments for travel. As well as paying for those who are a part of the guard or training seasons for our military."
"At this point," Thorin said. "It is less taxes than donations. After leaving Erebor we had nothing but our crafts and our will to go on."
There was a dark-far-away look in his eyes that killed Fíli. He felt spoiled for having grown up with hobbits and elves who lived without concern if they would have the resources they needed for their next meal.
"Our wealth isn't growing, is it?" Fíli asked, wanting to understand the weight his family carried.
Thorin sighed, "No, it isn't."
"Why is it important that the royal family hold wealth?" Fíli asked, hoping it wouldn't sound like a stupid question.
But his brother treated it seriously. "A lot of reasons. Foremost, because when all else fails, we are responsible for everyone else's wellbeing. Wealth is a safety net for that. The other reasons might sound less pretty, but it matters to our people politically. Wealth is a sign of strength. A successful king is a wealthy king."
Fíli disliked that but he understood it in a way he doubted his father would have. Or maybe Bilbo would have understood just fine; fat hobbits, after all, were prosperous hobbits.
"This is less true of our cousins in the Iron Hills and our brethren who have lived in Ered Luin for hundreds of years. It matters a lot for those who descended from Erebor and Moria. It's in our nature to respect that which we craft from the earth as our maker intended."
"I haven't seen anyone show you any disrespect," Fíli said.
Kíli made a harsh sound, "That's because we earned our place here. We might be far from our true homes, but we aren't as scattered as humans. If we share anything in common with the elves it is that you respect your king. It's an earned position, but it is a matter of honour of race to respect the order that keeps us from turning on one another."
As had happened to them once before.
"Does my return hurt your positions?" Fíli asked, because he needed to know.
"No!" Thorin and Kíli said together.
"No," Thorin said, glaring at Fíli as if daring him to challenge him. "When our people see you, they see hope, a second chance to regain, one day, all that we have lost."
"We just have to overcome the wee scaly problem or infestation of goblins," Kíli said.
Dwarves had dark humour. It sometimes, like now, caught Fíli off guard.
Thorin caught his gaze, "There are those who would use our history against us. It is important to desensitise yourself to it."
Fíli's jaw ticked, he couldn't imagine the elves doing that to one another. He supposed it was one of the reasons elves kept their stories to themselves lest it be used against them.
Seeing his expression, Thorin added, "It does not hurt to be reminded, Fíli, for I never forget those who we have lost. Anyone who would use that to hurt us, does not understand the depths of our loss. I would not wish upon them our fate so that they might understand."
"But Dale burned too," Fíli muttered.
"I'd be shocked if any of the survivors or their relatives lived this far west. Besides, human memory is short," Kíli said. "They'll go to war over very little because they don't remember their own histories as they should."
Fíli let out a breath, "I resent them, but I cannot say I envy them. To live without knowing the worth of the bonds that make you."
Hobbits were overly fond of their family trees and elves would talk forever of memory, humans, as a species, were more self-centred in their cultures.
Dwalin and Balin joined them then, walking up from the village they neared.
"Why so glum?" Balin asked.
"You should be proud of us," Kíli said. "We were talking about politics."
"Well, as much as I know Thorin would rather be sucking on lemons," Dwalin said. "There's work to do. There's a few sailors who ventured inland, a delegation from the south, and a group of Rangers from the north."
"Why?" Thorin asked suspiciously.
"It's a halfway point between all parties," Balin explained. "Something is happening in the south that is spilling toward Gondor. Rumour has it that access to the mouth of the Angren river is no longer passable. Ships have remained under the gaze of Gondor or are trying to set up trade agreements in the north."
Fíli didn't like the sound of that, "What are the Roharrim doing?"
Balin shrugged, "The only thing I've heard is that they are shrinking their patrolines."
Fíli sighed, that was unfortunate and short sighted.
Why did everyone in Middle Earth, no matter their race, believe isolationism would save them?
It was the equivalent of pulling a quilt over your head in a thunderstorm and pretending the rain wasn't falling and widening the hole in your roof.
Dwalin grunted, "Never mind that, there's more work to be done than there are hands to finish it. The traders from the seas bring coin with them, this year is turning out to be quite prosperous."
Balin made an appreciative sound, "And we didn't even have to venture all the way down our own foothills. My old bones are grateful."
"Aren't you younger than Thorin?" Fíli asked, knowing he was being a bit rude.
But Balin's beard was snow white while Thorin had only a few silver strands.
Balin waved away the remark, "Aye, but you're sons of Durin, your line has a few centuries on the rest of us."
"What?" Fíli asked, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"That's a conversation for another day," Thorin said. "Dwalin's right, there's work to be done."
They trooped down together to a forge area that Dwalin and Balin had secured for them. The dwarves who had been working since before the crack of dawn, bowed to them with their packed away goods and heavy purses. They followed the road back up the mountainside. The trio looked as aged as Balin and would likely sleep soundly after a meal till the next day.
If the dwarves of the Blue Mountains were doing better, dwarrow of their age would likely have been retired, only doing the craft for the love of it, not the necessity for coin.
They certainly wouldn't have tracked down to a village as small as this.
Fíli had never been much of a reader or writer, but he vowed to himself that he would do whatever it took to help his family and people rise up from this.
Maybe the current generations wouldn't see it, but perhaps their children might.
oOo
Thorin watched his nephews closely, most of the dwarves did.
He did not like that both dwarflings were so serious about the world.
They were both incredibly talented but they shouldn't have had to work for coin at this point in their lives.
Though he supposed that Kíli would be more diplomatic than Thorin had ever been raised to be despite the lack of palaces and crowds.
Fíli was even more wary of humans than any dwarf Thorin knew and that was saying something. It made him worry about what the dwarfling had endured in his life.
But his adoptive father, whom Fíli refused to talk about, had obviously loved him well.
Had he known abuse in his home, he wouldn't be so adaptive to being back home.
And he was adaptive.
Fíli took on the weight of royalty with frightful ease.
Thorin pulled himself out of his musing as his Fíli joined him at the anvil. Thorin handed him his own hammer so his sister's son could make adjustments to the shoe before returning it and to the horse.
Thorin was used to lines at his stall but the line of men and some girls with their horses and ponies was remarkable, bending around a corner street in fact.
Fíli didn't have to say hardly anything as he treated the horses, shaving down overgrown bits and getting the shoes on as swiftly as he had ever seen.
The horses seemed to love him, and were completely at peace to let themselves be directed around. Many rested their noses on his back, snuffling his blonde hair which is not personally where Thorin would have wanted horse teeth but that they all stood there without restraint or aggestation. It was a sight.
It should have looked ridiculous, especially with the tallest horses, a dwarf with equestrians. But Fíli's height seemed to be a distinct advantage, he didn't have to stoop low or overly hunch his back to do his job.
The Roharrim truly were gifted in the way of horses.
oOo
It was nearing dusk when trouble found them.
Kíli had ventured off to the food stalls with Dwalin to get something for the others, when a ruckus started up from the east district of the village.
Two buildings were set to blazing, causing a panic as the fire could too easily spread.
"Fíli!" Kíli turning back to fight the tide of people to get back to his brother.
oOo
Thorin admitted he froze, climbing flames were not among his favourite things on this earth.
Men with pitiful excuses for weapons charged into the market, some wielding pitchforks and tortures, others rusted swords that likely couldn't chip a post.
He heard curses from the dwarves, who, with far too much practice, were cleaning up their goods with haste. They'd have to abandon their tarps that had been treated against rain, but that was not so great a loss.
Least of all because the materials that made them water-resistant fed the flames like pine-needles or birchbark.
"Kíli!" Fíli roared, startling Thorin from his observations.
Using the stall as a leg up, Fíli mounted the dune mare he had just finished shoeing with absurd grace.
Balin and Thorin watched in open mouth astonishment as their youngest prince, who hadn't even reached his majority, took off bareback on a horse twice his height. Fíli was able to get in front of the attackers, blade drawn.
Thorin would have imagined the torch wielders would have scared the horse. But the horse was as graceful as Fíli had been, side stepping the men he felled, their touches extished against the muddy ground.
The Rangers, who had been waiting at the end of Fíli's line, had joined and the rabble rouses were felled in a matter of minutes. The Rangers split off to find any stragglers and help take buckets to and fro.
Thorin and Dwalin jogged to his nephews and Balin.
Fíli was back on solid ground, the mare behind him like a dog waiting for treats, checking his brother over.
Kíli shook his head, "Calm down, Fíli, I wasn't in any danger, I was trying to get back to you."
"Aye laddie, we're alright," Dwalin assured with a gentle smile.
"I didn't come home just watch you die again!" Fíli snapped at his older brother.
That brought them all up short. Kíli pulled the younger dwarf into a hug, "I'm sorry, Fíli."
Fíli hugged him back, jaw tight with what appeared to be an effort not to cry.
They were too young for this.
Thorin exchanged a worried look with Dwalin and Balin, before stepping forward to rest a hand on Fíli's shoulder. "You're excellent warrior, my sister's son. Your father would have been so proud of you."
"Aye, the Rohirrem taught you well," Balin said. "I never thought I would see a dwarf capable of riding such a large mare."
Said mare snuffled first Fíli's then Kíli's hair.
Fíli pulled back shaking his head, "I've seen toddlers ride draft horses. As long as they can hold your weight, anyone can ride."
"You vaulted and rode bareback while using a weapon," Balin said. "Not everyone can do that and almost no one among our kind."
"It's very elvish of you," Kíli teased, though the rib was more directed at Thorin who couldn't stop his scowl.
Fíli tensed at the perceived insult.
But one of the Rangers came and swung a familiar arm over Fíli's shoulders ignoring the sudden tenseness that filled the other dwarves around him. "What has you so prickly, my friend?"
"Nothing," the youngest prince said but leaned into the touch.
"I see your skills have not diminished," the young Ranger greeted, pulling back his hood, to reveal his bright blue eyes.
Fíli sighed, "It's not been a year yet, Estel."
Estel smiled, "Guess it will take longer for them to teach you how to take a compliment. You're too humble by half to be a prince."
Fíli scoffed, "You're one to talk."
Estel looked to Thorin, "My sincere condolences to your–"
Fíli kicked the Ranger in the shin.
Thorin winced at the expression the boy wore as he hopped on one foot, lips pressed to keep from crying out.
Still glaring but with a light of mischief in his eyes, he opened his mouth to speek, only before he could a syllable out, Fíli introduced them.
"Kíli, Thorin, this is my idiot friend Estel, son of Elrond. Estel, this is my brother Prince Kíli and my uncle, King Thorin Oakenshield."
Dwalin and Balin had sunk back into the crowd and easily could have taken Estel from behind if, as Fíli had been wise enough not to do, draw attention to them.
Estel bowed to them, elegant as an elf as he greeted, "It's a pleasure to meet you both." He glared at Fíli, "Ward, not son."
"Sure," Fíli agreed with the tone of someone who disagreed wholeheartedly.
Thorin was pretty certain that Elrond was one of the great elf lords, but Estel, for all his baring when not hopping on one foot, was human. If an elf lord had stooped to raising one of the mortal races, Thorin wasn't going to pick at the act of decency.
"Why was the village attacked?" Fíli asked. "They had to know there would be dwarves here today."
Estel gave Thorin an apologetic look, "There has been rumours about the might of Ered Luin being dimensioned."
Thorin sighed.
Balin, who seemed to deem Estel not a threat, stepped forward to answer. "They have now learned differently."
Estel bowed, "I meant no offence, Master Dwarf, I meant only to share rumours that–" he gestured to the corpses of men who had attacked the market. "-That has spurred the foolish into action."
Thorin spoke, "None of our people travel alone these days, we know the risks. The better question is why didn't the Rangers of the North protect this village from wandering marauders?"
"We are diminished," Estel answered honestly. "Our numbers are barely enough to shelter the Kindly West, much less the numerous settlements from Hobbiton to the sea."
Thorin narrowed his gaze, "What business do Rangers have with halflings?"
He already knew of course, but because he owed Glorfindel a blood debt, he wanted as much information as he could get before he set out east.
"Some places are meant to be protected so that those who cherish peace can live uninterrupted. It is our honour to protect them," Estel answered, a light in his gaze telling Thorin he knew why the question had been asked and that perhaps the Rangers' presence here was no mistake.
"Not a profitable one though, I'd wager," Balin said, following Thorin's example in feigning ignorance.
"Then you would lose that wager, Master Dwarf. Or do you believe it is human hands that grew such fruits and vegetables from the stone crushed soil you stand on now?"
Thorin shrugged, "That's a long road to take for produce."
"Aye," Estel agreed. "But it's the first to sell out in the morning."
One of the other Rangers called out to him. And Estel grimaced, "I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Fíli is cherished by many and I am thankful he has found a home to return to."
Thorin inclined his head but it was Kíli who answered, "Thank you for bringing him back to us."
Estel bowed and turned to leave but paused to look back at Fíli, "You should write to your father."
"Keep your nose out of it, Estel. You have your own problems to be getting on with."
Estel sighed but with a final bow, he left taking the mare with him.
"Let's get home," Balin said.
They went back to their stall to grab their tarp and what little remained of their stock and did not speak until they were far enough from the village not to be overheard.
Kíli asked first, "Your father?"
Fíli didn't look at him, his jaw set. "My father is a good person but it was not his choice to send me back to the Blue Mountains."
Thorin's heart twisted and he swallowed back his rage, "He kept you from us."
"I'm not sure about his reasons and I don't care to learn them," Fíli said bruskly. Then he admitted, more softly, "Estel thinks it wasn't done maliciously."
"If they had sent a Ranger with your name we would have gone to Mordor to retrieve you if needs be," Thorin said.
Fíli sighed, "It was a dwarf who took me, my father was afraid to send my name if I had been targeted for some reason. But that doesn't excuse him not trying. Nor does it excuse my so called friends who knew that Kíli was a dwarven prince."
"You had my name?" Kíli asked.
Fíli nodded, "I may have forgotten our language, but I never forgot you were my brother. Nothing would have kept us apart if I thought you had survived."
Thorin nodded, his emotions tangled, anger and sorrow for the years lost, but still, the gratitude remained to whoever had rescued his nephew when they could not.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, chupacabras, feedback on the story? Pretty please?